What a 9-Year-Old Taught Me About Presence

Take a look around any gym, running trail or walking path, and you’ll spot it immediately — earbuds in, podcasts on, music blaring, notifications still pinging.

It’s almost become second nature to treat exercise as yet another opportunity to multitask. We squeeze in that TED Talk during a walk, reply to messages between sets, or scroll through reels while stretching. Guilty as charged? That’s ok, no judgement here — I’ve done it too.

But what we may not realise when we do this, is what we're missing out on. Yes, we might get the physical benefits of movement, but we often miss out on the mental strength that comes from simply being.

Exercise isn’t just for the body
For me, running and martial arts have always been more than just physical activities. It’s where I clear my head, work through ideas and let thoughts rise to the surface that I didn’t know were waiting there. It’s the few hours in the week where I’m not trying to do anything — just be. That mind-body-spirit connection, when it’s left uninterrupted, is a powerful source of calm and clarity.

Which is why I found myself a little frustrated this past weekend when my nine-year-old daughter asked if she could come with me on my run. MY run!

I’d just spent the morning with the kids and was looking forward to that precious alone time. That window where I could tune everything out — no talking, no decision-making, no distractions. Just me, the step ahead and my thoughts.

But I took a breath and said yes. And off we went — running, talking, walking, pausing. It wasn’t the run I had planned, but it turned into something different. Something still valuable. 

It was connection.

Presence comes in different forms
That run taught me two things: one, that when we allow ourselves to shift our expectations or repurpose an activity, we can still find value in that activity (and reduce the anxiety of not achieving what we initially set out to do. Two, it gave me a different kind of clarity. A reminder that presence isn’t always solo, silent or still. Sometimes, it looks like sharing a moment with someone you love. Sometimes it’s in the conversation, the laughter, the pacing yourself for someone else.

It wasn’t “me time,” but it was meaningful time. And that matters too.

That said — the very next day, I made sure to head out again. This time, it was just me and my thoughts. No earbuds, no playlist, no podcast. Just the sound of my breath, the sea breeze in my face, the feel of the sand beneath my bare feet and the space to let my mind wander.

And that mattered too.

What are we really running from?
In a world where we’re constantly plugged in — even during rest and recovery — maybe what we’re really avoiding is stillness. Silence. Ourselves.

But what if that’s where the real strength-building happens? 

What if zoning out a little helps us tune in more deeply — to our ideas, our intuition, our relationships?

It struck me how similar this is to leadership. When we’re always plugged into the noise — meetings, emails, expectations — we leave little room for clarity, courage or creativity. But real leadership often begins in those quieter moments, when we give ourselves permission to be still, to reflect, to reconnect with what truly matters.

Both runs reminded me of something simple but powerful: presence is a choice. And whether it's made in solitude or shared with someone, it's a gift we often overlook.

A quiet invitation
Next time you’re out walking, lifting, running or stretching — try leaving the devices behind. Let your mind wander. Let silence settle.

If it's too much to go for half an hour or an hour without being plugged in, start small. Try 10 or 15 minutes as a start then add in an additional minute of being unplugged every session until you're completely alone with yourself.

You might be surprised at what shows up when you create space for it.

At Next Step Leadership, we help leaders and teams reconnect with what really matters — through coaching, facilitation and leadership development that prioritises clarity, connection and courage.

If that’s something you (or your team) could use more of, I’d love to hear from you.