Entrepreneurship, Stress and Why Success Means Nothing Without Your Health

 

There is a romanticised view of entrepreneurship that often dominates social media, business podcasts and networking events. We see the success stories, the growth, the new offices, the client wins and the financial rewards. We hear people talk about freedom, flexibility and being their own boss. Whilst all of those things can be true, they only tell part of the story.

The reality is that entrepreneurship can be one of the most rewarding journeys a person can undertake, but it can also be one of the most stressful.

When you own a business, there is no switch that turns off at the end of the day. The responsibility follows you everywhere. It sits with you when you wake up in the morning and often remains with you long after everyone else has gone to bed. The decisions you make affect not only your own future but also your staff, your clients, your suppliers and, in many cases, your family.

Over the years I have come to realise that entrepreneurship is not really about building a business. Building the business is the easy bit. The difficult part is managing yourself whilst doing it.

This year has reinforced that lesson more than any other period of my life.

Like many entrepreneurs, I have always believed that hard work solves most problems. If sales slow down, work harder. If a client needs support, work harder. If a project starts drifting off course, work harder. Throughout my career I have never been afraid of putting the hours in. Eighteen-hour days do not scare me. Early mornings and late nights have simply been part of the journey.

That mindset has undoubtedly helped me build businesses and overcome challenges. However, this year I was reminded that there are some things that hard work alone cannot fix.

Alongside running Black Raccoon Consulting, I found myself dealing with a cancer diagnosis and an ongoing battle with chronic fatigue. Neither of those things cared about my calendar, my business plans or my client commitments. They arrived regardless and forced me to confront something that I suspect many entrepreneurs quietly ignore.

We are not indestructible.

For years I had treated my own health as something that would fit around the business. Exercise would happen when I had time. Rest would happen when the work was done. Holidays would happen once things had calmed down.

The problem is that things never calm down.

There is always another project, another client, another opportunity, another challenge and another problem to solve. If you wait for the perfect moment to prioritise yourself, that moment never arrives.

What I learned this year is that your health cannot sit behind your business in the priority list.

It has to sit above it.

That may sound selfish to some people, but it is actually the opposite. The healthier you are physically and mentally, the more capable you are of supporting everyone around you. Your family benefits. Your team benefits. Your clients benefit. Your business benefits.

The mistake many entrepreneurs make is believing they are the business.

I know because I have done exactly the same thing.

When things become difficult, our instinct is often to take more responsibility. We work longer hours, involve ourselves in more decisions and carry more weight on our shoulders. It feels productive, but in reality it often creates a dangerous cycle where the business becomes increasingly dependent on one person.

If that person becomes ill, exhausted or overwhelmed, everything begins to suffer.

One of the reasons I decided to bring Russell into the business was not simply because I believed he could help us grow, although that is certainly true. It was also because I recognised the importance of sharing responsibility.

Entrepreneurs often talk about scaling their businesses, but very few talk about scaling the pressure.

For years, every challenge, every major decision and every responsibility sat with me. Whilst I was fortunate to have fantastic people around me, the reality was that the burden of ownership was largely mine to carry.

Bringing Russell into the business changed that.

Not because it removed challenges, but because it created somebody to share them with. Somebody who understands the industry, understands the business and understands the pressures that come with ownership. There is enormous value in having somebody who can challenge your thinking, offer perspective and, perhaps most importantly, help carry the load when things become difficult.

Entrepreneurship can be an incredibly lonely place. We often surround ourselves with people who see the successful version of us, whilst quietly dealing with concerns around cash flow, staffing, economic uncertainty and growth behind closed doors.

Having someone you trust to share that journey with is more valuable than most entrepreneurs realise.

One of the greatest sources of stress for business owners is the sheer number of things that sit outside our control. Economic downturns, interest rates, government policy, changing consumer behaviour and industry disruption all have the ability to influence our businesses. We spend countless hours worrying about these factors despite having little or no ability to change them.

As I have got older, I have become increasingly convinced that one of the keys to managing stress is learning the difference between what you can control and what you cannot.

You cannot control the economy.

You cannot control government decisions.

You cannot control what competitors do.

You cannot control whether a client decides to cancel.

What you can control is how you respond.

You can control your standards. You can control your effort. You can control the quality of your service. You can control your willingness to adapt. You can control the relationships you build and the culture you create.

When you focus your energy on those areas, stress becomes far easier to manage because your efforts are directed towards things that can actually create change.

Another lesson I have learned is that success has a habit of moving the goalposts.

Many entrepreneurs convince themselves that they will slow down once they reach a particular milestone. It might be a revenue target, a new site, a certain number of clients or a specific lifestyle goal.

The problem is that when we reach those milestones, we often replace them with new ones.

The target moves.

The pressure remains.

The hours stay long.

The balance never arrives.

That is why I no longer believe balance is something you achieve once the business becomes successful. I think it is something you deliberately create throughout the journey.

Making time for exercise is not a reward for success.

Spending time with your family is not something that should happen once the work is finished.

Taking holidays is not a luxury.

Protecting your mental health is not optional.

These things are essential parts of building a sustainable life and a sustainable business.

The irony is that many entrepreneurs work incredibly hard to create a better future for themselves and their families whilst simultaneously sacrificing the very things that future is supposed to provide.

We miss family moments.

We neglect friendships.

We ignore our health.

We delay happiness until some future date that may never arrive.

Cancer and chronic fatigue have a way of changing your perspective on that.

They force you to ask questions that perhaps you should have asked years earlier.

What is success actually for?

What are we building?

What matters most?

What would happen if everything stopped tomorrow?

For me, the answer has become increasingly clear.

Success is not simply about revenue, growth or profitability. Those things are important, but they are not the whole picture.

Success is being healthy enough to enjoy what you have built.

Success is having the energy to spend time with the people who matter most.

Success is building a business that supports your life rather than consumes it.

Success is recognising that whilst your business is important, it is not more important than you.

If there is one lesson I would share with fellow entrepreneurs, it is this.

Look after yourself first.

Not because the business does not matter, but because it does.

Your business needs you at your best.

Your team needs you at your best.

Your family needs you at your best.

And you cannot give your best to anyone if you are running on empty.

The business can survive a difficult month. It can survive a difficult year. It can survive setbacks, mistakes and challenges.

Sometimes, however, recovering yourself is much harder.

That is a lesson I wish I had understood earlier, but one I will carry with me for the rest of my entrepreneurial journey.

 

Is It Really Our Responsibility to Improve the Nation's Health?

There is, and always has been, a great deal of discussion within the fitness industry about the role we should play in improving the nation's health. It's one of those debates that resurfaces every few months, often triggered by a new government initiative, an industry report, concerns about NHS pressures, or yet another statistic highlighting rising obesity levels.

Over the years, I've had countless conversations about this topic. Some have been thoughtful and constructive, others more heated, but they almost always start from the same assumption: that the fitness industry has a responsibility to improve public health.

Until recently, I largely accepted that argument without questioning it too deeply. After all, we're in the fitness industry. Helping people become healthier is what we do, isn't it?

Then something struck me the other day that made me pause and reconsider the entire premise.

Is it actually our responsibility to improve the nation's health?

Or is our responsibility simply to run successful businesses that provide products and services people want to buy?

At first glance, that might sound like a cynical question. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realised that the answer isn't nearly as straightforward as many of us would like to believe.

The story that came to mind was that of Michelin. Today, Michelin is synonymous with restaurant ratings and fine dining. A Michelin Star can transform a restaurant's fortunes overnight and has become one of the most respected accolades in the hospitality industry. What many people don't realise, however, is that Michelin never set out to improve restaurants.

Michelin wanted to sell tyres.

In the early days of motoring, there simply weren't enough people driving. The company recognised that if it could encourage people to travel further and more often, they would wear out their tyres more quickly and need replacements. The Michelin Guide was born as a way of encouraging travel, promoting destinations and helping motorists find places to eat and stay.

The outcome was extraordinary. Restaurants benefited, standards improved and an entire industry evolved around the guide. Yet none of that was the primary objective. The objective was to sell more tyres.

That got me wondering whether our industry has fallen into a similar trap.

Because if we're honest, we are businesses first and foremost. We employ people, pay rent, manage cash flow, market our services and compete for customers. Like every other commercial sector, we need revenue, profit and sustainability if we're going to survive.

The fact that the service we provide happens to improve people's health is undoubtedly a wonderful thing. In fact, it's one of the reasons I have remained passionate about this industry for almost three decades. There aren't many sectors that can genuinely claim to improve both quality of life and longevity. We can.

That is something we should be incredibly proud of.

However, I increasingly question whether we should be positioning ourselves as the primary solution to the nation's health problems.

The obesity crisis is often cited as evidence that we should be doing more. Yet when we look objectively at the factors driving obesity, inactivity is only part of the story. Modern diets, highly processed foods, sugar consumption, sedentary lifestyles, urban planning, education and social behaviours all play significant roles.

The food industry, in particular, has had an enormous influence on public health outcomes. Entire product categories are engineered to maximise taste, convenience and repeat purchases. Consumers are surrounded by highly processed options that are often cheaper, more accessible and more heavily marketed than healthier alternatives.

Yet despite this, we rarely see the same expectation placed upon food manufacturers to solve the nation's health problems.

Instead, the responsibility often seems to find its way back to fitness operators.

We're expected to reduce obesity.

We're expected to relieve pressure on the NHS.

We're expected to improve national wellbeing.

We're expected to become a key pillar of public health policy.

It's a tremendous burden to place upon an industry that still struggles to engage the majority of the population.

Perhaps that is why I've started to wonder whether we are approaching the challenge from the wrong direction.

What if our focus shouldn't be on convincing people that exercise is good for them?

After all, most people already know that.

I've never met anyone who genuinely believes that sitting on the sofa all day is healthier than exercising. Most people understand the benefits of movement. They know exercise can help them lose weight, improve fitness, reduce stress and enhance their quality of life.

Knowledge is not the problem.

Engagement is.

The real challenge facing our industry isn't educating people about exercise. It's creating experiences that make them want to participate.

When consumers join our facilities, they are rarely buying health. They're buying confidence. They're buying enjoyment. They're buying community. They're buying friendship, motivation, entertainment, achievement and belonging. they they may come in with a fat loss aim or similar, but lets be honest with ourselves, if they dont enjoy it, feel part of something or feel motivated the fat loass aim wont keep them coming, so with that in mind is it really why they attend?

They want somewhere they feel comfortable.

They want somewhere they enjoy visiting.

They want an experience that makes them feel good about themselves.

In many ways, we're closer to hospitality than healthcare.

Nobody visits a restaurant because they're excited about the nutritional composition of the menu. They go because they want an enjoyable experience. The food is important, but the experience is what drives repeat visits.

The same principle applies to fitness.

People don't return because we've reminded them about obesity statistics. They return because they enjoyed themselves. They felt welcomed. They achieved something. They connected with others. They felt part of something bigger than themselves.

This is where I believe our industry sometimes takes itself too seriously.

We spend enormous amounts of time discussing our role in public health, yet perhaps we'd achieve more by focusing on creating experiences people genuinely love.

Because if we can make exercise enjoyable, people will do more of it.

If more people do it, they'll become healthier.

If they become healthier, society benefits.

The difference is that health becomes the outcome rather than the pitch.

One of the most fascinating examples of this in recent years has been Hyrox. Whether you personally love it or hate it is irrelevant. What Hyrox has achieved is remarkable because it understood something fundamental about human behaviour.

It didn't sell exercise.

It sold challenge.

It sold achievement.

It sold identity.

It sold community.

People train for Hyrox because it gives them a purpose beyond simply being fitter. The fitness is almost a by-product of the experience.

That raises an important question for the rest of us.

How do we create similar levels of engagement for the average person?

Not the athlete.

Not the fitness enthusiast.

Not the person already obsessed with training.

The average person who simply wants to feel better, look better and enjoy life.

How do we make movement something people genuinely look forward to?

How do we create environments that are welcoming rather than intimidating?

How do we build products that feel exciting rather than obligatory?

Because if we can answer those questions, I suspect we'll do far more for the nation's health than any awareness campaign ever could.

After nearly thirty years in this industry, I remain incredibly optimistic about what fitness can achieve. I just think we've become slightly distracted by trying to position ourselves as the solution to every public health challenge.

The reality is that we won't solve obesity on our own. We won't transform the NHS. We won't single-handedly make the nation healthier.

What we can do is create businesses that people love. We can provide experiences that inspire movement. We can build communities that support positive habits. We can help people feel stronger, happier and more confident.

And perhaps, in doing so, we'll improve the nation's health anyway.

Not because we set out to save it, but because we became exceptionally good at giving people something they genuinely wanted.

 

The Most Difficult Moment of My Consultancy Career

People often assume that the most difficult part of consultancy is solving business problems.

It isn't.

Most business problems are ultimately solvable. Sales can improve, retention can increase, systems can be fixed, teams can be developed and marketing can be refined. Whilst these challenges can be frustrating, they are rarely the moments that stay with you.

The hardest moments are rarely commercial.

They are human.

Over the years I have worked with hundreds of businesses and encountered all manner of challenges. I've seen businesses thrive, businesses struggle and businesses fail. I've seen owners achieve things they never thought possible and others face some incredibly difficult circumstances.

However, there is one moment that stands out above all others.

Even now, years later, I still think about it.

I won't name the company involved, and those who know the story will understand why. The purpose of telling it isn't to point fingers or reopen old wounds. The purpose is to share a lesson that fundamentally changed the way I think about business and the people within it.

At the time, I had been working with a franchise organisation. By this point I had already stopped working with them and had moved on professionally. However, one thing I have always believed is that relationships don't end simply because a contract does.

If I have worked with somebody, helped them or built a relationship with them, I generally stay in touch. That is just who I am.

One day I received a phone call from one of the franchisees.

Their business was failing.

Despite their efforts, despite the sacrifices they had made and despite trying everything they could think of, the numbers simply weren't stacking up. The business was heading towards closure and they couldn't see a way out.

As we spoke, the conversation became increasingly concerning.

Eventually they told me that the only thing they had left was their life insurance policy. They genuinely believed that their family would be financially better off without them than with them.

Even writing those words now feels uncomfortable.

For context, their business sat next to both a canal and a major train station.

You can probably understand why alarm bells immediately started ringing in my head.

This was no longer a business conversation.

This was a person in crisis.

A husband.

A parent.

A human being who had reached the point where they could no longer see a way forward.

I immediately raised my concerns with the franchise organisation. To their credit, I was assured that the situation would be addressed and that support would be provided.

I left that conversation believing action would be taken.

A couple of weeks later my phone rang again.

It was the franchisee.

Nothing had changed.

No meaningful support had been provided. No intervention had taken place. No apparent urgency had been shown.

At that point I realised this wasn't something I could simply assume somebody else would handle.

This time I formally documented my concerns and put them directly in writing to the CEO. I wanted there to be absolutely no ambiguity about the seriousness of the situation and the potential consequences of failing to act.

That finally forced movement.

But unbelievably, that wasn't the end of the story.

A few weeks later the business closed its doors.

The franchisee had run out of options.

The club was finished.

What happened next probably shocked me more than anything that came before it.

Whilst the owner was dealing with the emotional devastation of losing their business, there seemed to be more concern from the franchisor about removing signs and protecting the brand than supporting the people involved.

Staff still needed answers.

Employees still needed guidance.

Redundancies needed explaining.

People's livelihoods were being affected.

Yet support appeared remarkably absent.

I remember sitting there thinking that regardless of what had happened commercially, these were still human beings.

These were people who had invested their lives, their money, their hopes and their energy into a business.

They deserved better.

So I arranged childcare for my children, got in the car and travelled to the club.

Not because I was being paid.

Not because it was my responsibility.

Not because there was any commercial benefit whatsoever.

I went because it felt like the right thing to do.

Together with the owner, we sat down with staff, explained the situation and talked them through the redundancy process. We answered questions, provided reassurance where we could and simply tried to be there during an incredibly difficult moment.

I often reflect on that day.

Not because of the business failure.

Businesses fail. It happens.

Not because of the commercial loss.

Money can be rebuilt.

What stays with me is how close somebody came to believing they had no other option.

That is what I remember.

For me, that experience was the moment consultancy stopped being primarily about business and became much more about people.

The experience reinforced something I had always believed but perhaps had never fully appreciated. Who you choose to work with matters. Values matter. Character matters.

Expertise is important and commercial success is important, but neither tells you very much about how somebody will behave when things become difficult. It is easy to be supportive when businesses are growing, profits are increasing and everyone is winning. The true measure of a person, a leader or an organisation is how they behave when things go wrong.

One of the reasons I am incredibly selective about the businesses and individuals I work with today is because of experiences like this. I have no interest in working with people who see business purely as a commercial transaction. Of course businesses need to be profitable and commercially successful, but that should never come at the expense of basic human decency.

What struck me most throughout the entire experience was how quickly people can become numbers. Membership numbers. Revenue numbers. Profit numbers. Franchise numbers. Yet behind every one of those figures is a person. A family. A story. A set of pressures and worries that most people never see.

The business owner at the centre of this story was not a number on a spreadsheet. They were somebody who had invested their savings, their hopes and a huge part of their life into creating something meaningful. When that dream began to fall apart, what they needed most was not another business strategy, another spreadsheet or another report. They needed support. They needed reassurance. They needed somebody willing to stand beside them and help them navigate one of the most difficult periods of their life.

That experience taught me one of the most important lessons of my career. Not everything we do should be driven by money. Not every decision should be based on commercial return. Sometimes the right thing to do is simply the right thing to do.

Looking back, it remains the most difficult moment of my consultancy career, not because it involved a failing business, but because it involved a person who genuinely believed there was no way forward. The thought that somebody could reach that point whilst feeling unsupported by the people around them is something that has stayed with me ever since.

Thankfully, that story did not end in tragedy. However, it easily could have done, and that is why I continue to tell it.

In an industry that spends so much time talking about growth, profitability and success, it is worth remembering that business is ultimately about people. The numbers matter, but the people behind the numbers matter far more.

My hope is that none of us ever become so focused on success, growth or protecting a brand that we forget our responsibility to the human beings around us. Because long after the revenue figures have been forgotten and the businesses have changed hands, what people tend to remember is how they were treated when they needed help the most.

For me, that will always be the true measure of success.

The most overlooked problem in franchising isn't recruitment

 

The most overlooked problem in franchising isn't recruitment

One of the themes that seems to come up time and time again in my conversations lately is franchise support.

Over the last few months I’ve spoken to franchisees from established brands, franchisees from emerging brands, people who have recently left franchise systems and others who are still operating within them but are becoming increasingly frustrated.

What’s interesting is that many of the conversations end up in exactly the same place.

Not marketing.

Not lead generation.

Not competition.

Support.

Or more specifically, the lack of it.

The reality is that most franchise brands put a huge amount of time, effort and money into recruiting franchisees. They build recruitment websites, attend exhibitions, run discovery days, create franchise brochures and spend significant sums attracting people into the network.

Yet once that franchisee signs the agreement and opens the doors, the intensity of support often starts to fade.

Not always.

There are some brilliant franchisors out there who genuinely care about the success of their franchisees and remain heavily invested in helping them grow.

But equally, I’ve seen franchise systems where support becomes reactive rather than proactive. Franchisees are left to work things out for themselves, they lose direction, performance drops and frustration begins to build.

The irony is that many of these franchisees didn’t join because they wanted complete independence.

If they wanted that, they would have started their own business.

They joined because they wanted systems, structure, accountability, support and access to experience that would help them avoid mistakes and accelerate growth.

That’s what they’ve bought into.

As a franchisor, there is a responsibility that comes with bringing somebody into your network. They have invested their capital, committed their time and put their trust in your brand. The sale should never be viewed as the end of the process. In many ways, it’s the point where the real work begins.

The strongest franchise systems I’ve seen aren’t necessarily the ones with the best recruitment marketing.

They’re the ones that remain consistently engaged with their franchisees years after they joined.

They provide direction.

They challenge performance.

They share best practice.

They create accountability.

They help franchisees navigate difficult periods as well as celebrate the good ones.

At the same time, if you’re a franchisee reading this and feel like you’ve lost some of that support, don’t assume you have to struggle through it alone.

A fresh pair of eyes can often make a huge difference.

Myself and Ryan Charlesworth at Black Raccoon Consulting regularly support franchisees and franchisors across areas including:

📈 Sales performance

🎯 Lead generation and conversion

🔄 Retention and member experience

📊 Reporting and KPIs

👥 Team development

🚀 Multi-site growth

🏢 Franchise development

💡 Operational performance

🤝 Strategic partnerships

Ultimately, successful franchising isn’t just about recruiting great franchisees.

It’s about helping them become successful once they’re in the system.

I’d be interested to hear other people’s thoughts.