Avoiding The Burden Curve: A Gift from Your Younger Self

“Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking.” — William Butler Yeats (Reference)

As the holiday season approaches, many of us struggle to choose a meaningful gift for our loved ones. But what if one of the most valuable gifts we could offer is to our future self? This is the essence of what I call avoiding the “Burden Curve”.

In a recent quarterly catch up, my mentor shared a perspective on retirement that resonated with me. He described the satisfaction of receiving a monthly pension cheque as “a gift from his younger self.” To me, it was a profound reminder of the groundwork we lay today — investments, habits, and choices — that become a source of comfort, enjoyment and security tomorrow.

This conversation sparked a broader reflection on life’s many transitions and the necessity to invest in oneself ahead of need. For those in professional sports, for instance, the shift from the structured rhythm of athletic life to the unstructured reality of retirement can be jarring. My mentor told the story of a famous footballer who had admitted how he became a burden on his wife after retirement. Frustrated, aimless, and angry, he had failed to reinvent himself before it became necessary.

This theme surfaced again during a conversation I had with Dr. Daniel Amen on The Innovation Show. We were discussing the concussions I had received during my rugby career, and he stopped me dead in my tracks with a single question:

“Do you want to be a burden on your children?”

He went on to explain the responsibility I now carried to look after my health: minimizing alcohol, caffeine, and any substance use; sleeping well; exercising to oxygenate my brain; staying hydrated; and taking every step to maintain my physical and mental well-being. The message was clear — by neglecting your health now, you risk becoming a burden on those you love later.

And this idea of Burden Curves extends far beyond health. If we neglect investing in our future — whether financially, through building new skills before they’re needed, by expanding our networks, or by preparing ourselves physically — we are, in essence, shifting our burdens onto others. It’s on us to do the work now so that we’re not a weight on our families, our teams, or even our future selves.

The thoughts that find their way into this weekly reflection are a confluence of insights drawn from life experiences, books, interviews, insights and observations. And in the days after that conversation, life gifted me another layer of meaning. I learned of the passing of a mentor of sorts, a man who had shaped my thinking long before I ever met him: the late, great Irish philosopher Charles Handy.

It was one of the greatest moments of a decade of The Innovation Show to interview Charles at his home by a crackling open fire. As I remastered that conversation, I was reminded of one of his most poignant stories — the story of Davy’s Bar.

Davy’s Bar (A Metaphorical Bar)

As Charles told it, “I have often told my story of the road to Davy’s Bar, and its imagery, along with its implications, still haunts me. I was driving through the Wicklow Mountains, the bare but beautiful hills outside Dublin, when I lost my way. I saw a man walking his dog, so I stopped beside him and asked if he could point me on the way to Avoca, where I was heading.

‘Surely,’ he said, ‘and it’s dead easy. You go straight ahead up this hill, then down again for a mile or so until you get to a stream with a bridge over it; on the other side, you’ll see Davy’s Bar — you can’t miss it, it is very bright red. Have you got that now?’

‘I think so,’ I said. ‘Straight up, then down, until I come to Davy’s Bar.’

‘Great; well, half a mile before you get there, turn right up the hill and that will take you to Avoca.’

I had thanked him and driven off before I realised the strange Irish logic of his directions. But its message stuck with me until I started talking about the challenge of the Second Curve, that turn to the right up the hill which you will often have passed without knowing it was where you should have gone.

I have met too many organisations (and, indeed, individuals) parked in the equivalent of Davy’s Bar, having realised, too late, that they have missed the turn to the future and can only look back regretfully and drown their sadness with a mournful drink or two, while they reminisce about the good times and what might have been.

Unwittingly, in my career, I was riding a sequence of roads up the hill, having turned each time before I got to the equivalent of Davy’s Bar. When I drew the curves out, my up-and-down trajectory began to make sense.”

The lesson from Davy’s Bar is clear: timing matters. And that brings us to a concept that underpins so much of life, business, and institutions — the Sigmoid Curve, or S-curve.

S-Curves

At its core, the Sigmoid Curve is a mathematical concept, but as a metaphor, it offers profound insights into the rhythms of growth and decline that define all things human. It describes the trajectory of individuals, businesses, governments, and even entire economies.

The curve begins with a dip, where input — whether effort, learning, or resources — exceeds output. Progress feels slow. But as results take shape, the line begins to rise, marking a period of growth and success. For a time, all seems well. Yet inevitably, the curve peaks. What follows is decline — sometimes gradual, sometimes rapid — but always inevitable, unless a Second Curve begins.

The undeniable truth of the Second Curve is this: it must start before the first curve peaks. While the initial curve is still rising, when success blinds us to the need for reinvention, that is precisely when the seeds of the next curve must be sown.

One of the (latent) gifts of being a professional athlete is that you know you are on the road to Davy’s Bar. Counterintuitively, I count myself lucky that an injury towards the end of my career gave me the rare opportunity to pause, reflect, and prepare for the curve jump that lay ahead. Since then, I have moved from career to career, and even industry to industry, carrying forward what is useful and discarding what no longer serves me. These transitions are not unique to athletes — they are moments we all encounter at different stages of life.

As the former Intel CEO and Chairman, Andy Grove said, “There is at least one point in the history of any company when you have to change dramatically to rise to the next performance level. Miss the moment and you start to decline.” Helping people and organisations avoid this decline is the red thread throughout all my work and it includes several critical curve jumps worth recognising and preparing for:

Early Career Investment: Especially for athletes, laying the groundwork early ensures a smoother transition into life after sports. For others, it means building the skills and networks that will carry you forward. So few people build networks and when they need the network most they are usually at their most vulnerable and unable to activate one.
Career Reinvention: Throughout our professional lives, we must continuously adapt and evolve to stay relevant and fulfilled. Reinvention isn’t failure; it’s growth.
Pension Planning: Wise financial decisions made early can transform into a steady stream of support later in life. A pension, as my mentor put it, is a gift from your younger self.
Physical Health: Just as important as financial planning is investing in our physical well-being. A healthy, active retirement doesn’t happen by chance — it’s built day by day.

By recognising these curves and preparing ahead, we can transform potential burdens into gifts that keep on giving.

This Christmas, as we unwrap presents under the tree, remember to honour the most enduring gift of all: the one we give ourselves through thoughtful planning and reinvention. The road to Davy’s Bar doesn’t have to be the end. The turn up the hill — towards the Second Curve — is always there for those willing to look, prepare, and act.

This week, I will leave the final word with the legendary Charles Handy…

“New thinking is not the prerogative of those in authority. They are often too wedded to their accustomed ways, to that first curve, to conceive that another way might be possible. The thinking could and should start with ourselves. I am sure that each one of us can make a difference — to our own lives, to the lives of those around us, especially our families, to the institutions to which we may belong, to the communities in which we live and even to the countries of which we are citizens. One of our faults is that we are too modest, too willing to believe that those in power know best. I used to think that — until I taught some of them, then I knew that most of them were as ordinary as us. If we want to see a better society it has to start with us and in our own lives. The Second Curve is our chance to make up for any shortcomings on the first curve, to redeem ourselves and to show that we have learnt from the past in order to create a better future.” — Charles Handy 1932–2024 R.I.P.

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