Mike Reilly has just published his second book, Finding Your Finish Line, and he changed one word from the first. The first book was about him, and he never agreed with the title because it had "my" in it. This one is about you, and not only at a race or event, but in life.

I recorded it with him in Oceanside, Southern California, in a restaurant with a dish named after him on the menu. He only found out when he saw it.

"The biggest finish lines are the ones we try to find in life."

Starting is the hard bit

Mike told me he has never talked to anyone who took the first step and wasn't happy with themselves, because most people want to finish what they start. Starting is often harder than finishing: the hard conversation with a loved one, trying to repair a relationship with a brother or sister. And if you're standing still, you're moving backwards.

I see the other side of that all the time. People wait until after Christmas to start running, or until next year to write the book, because the conditions are never quite right. If you get started, you can always change direction. If you wait for perfect, you never do it.

Mike also hates the word retirement. Friends of his retire and just stop. His view: "You can relax on the weekend. On Monday, you got to start something new."

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Listen to the full podcast here: Finding Your Finish Line​

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A pause isn't standing still

I asked whether there's a difference between standing still and taking a deliberate pause. Mike says there is. After a project or a race it's worth stopping to ask what you sacrificed to do it and what you could do differently, including how you could bring your family in more. But "that finish line is the foundation for your next one". Standing still is when you have nothing in front of you.

Do it at 51

I've been coaching for well over 30 years, and I think more than 1,000 athletes have crossed a long-distance finish line with my help. Every so often I get someone running a business, with three children and one sitting important exams, who has decided to do an Ironman before they're 50. My job is to help them avoid the car crash, so I ask whether it's the right time, who's taking the kids to football on Sunday, and whether they've asked their other half.

I recognise it in myself. When I was chasing Kona, I was building a business, and I had a couple of broken relationships. Looking back, my focus was probably too much.

Mike's version is simpler. When someone tells him they're 49 and will sign up for next year, he asks why they don't do it at 51. A longer lead time makes the world around you a better place, and eight months of hell for the family isn't worth it for the same age group. He told me that's one reason he wrote the book: you can cross the line a winner and still be on the losing side in the rest of your life.

Finish lines outside racing

Mike told me about a high school friend going through a divorce in his 40s who didn't know what to do next. Mike asked what he had to do that day. Just that day. He built small wins: dinner out, then a couple of miles around the block. Mike's point was that very few people do triathlon, and most people are just trying to get through the day.

He also told me about the radio host Scott Kaplan, who raced Kona in 2010, then went through a divorce, four kids and losing his job. Kaplan told him he kept setting goals and finding finish lines the way he had for an Ironman, and that it got him through the last 10 years.

The other side of a rough patch

Mike recalled Paula Newby-Fraser telling a room of athletes: "You're going to have a bad day tomorrow." There'll be a rough patch, maybe several, and the job is to get to the other side of it and not quit in the middle. In almost half a million finishes, Mike told me, he has never seen anyone come through the line sad or feeling sorry for themselves.

Calling people home

I asked about the emotional finishes. I told him about calling an Outlaw athlete, Sam Perkins, who developed MND and came back in a powered wheelchair. Thirty seconds after calling him in, I had to go and take myself away for five minutes.

Mike has a method. He has a one-to-one conversation with each athlete, and tells himself: "Let everybody else cry a little bit. I'll do mine later." He saves it for the flight home.

Then there's the late finisher. A woman wobbled along the barrier in the closing minutes and got stuck, and Mike ran down and put an arm under her. "I saw a human. I saw a person in struggle. The race kind of left my head." He hadn't thought about it for a long time, and it still gets him emotional.

That's what Battle Ready looks like.

Mike's message is to start, to fit your goals around the people in your life, and to take it one day at a time. The SWAT Inner Circle is built around exactly that. It's coaching and community for endurance athletes over 50 who want to keep performing without burning out. New members join at £65 a month with no minimum commitment. Find out more at simonward.co.uk/swat-inner-circle.

Simon Ward​ Performance coach for endurance athletes over 50 Helping you train smarter, race stronger, and stay in the sport for the long haul.