Bernard O'Shea: 5 things I learned about showing up — even when I didn’t want to

Bernard O'Shea. Photo: Ray Ryan
Growing up, I had two options: show up or don’t. There was no middle ground. No half-measures.
If you missed the bus, you were stuck. If you stayed in bed, you were out of luck. And if you decided you “didn’t feel like it” well, good luck explaining that to your parents.
My mam always had something to say. The one I remember most is: “Just go in, you’ll be grand once you’re there.” That was it. No lecture, no deals, no sympathy.
She just believed the hardest bit was getting through the door. And, as much as I hate to admit it, she was right.
Back then, we didn’t call it resilience or character or anything like that. It was just getting from A to B. There were no spare cars. Lifts were rare. You got yourself there or you didn’t go.
Nobody cared about your excuses because everyone else was just as soaked or tired or fed up.
Now, as a parent, I find myself recycling that same line with my own kids.
When one of them doesn’t want to go training because it’s lashing rain, or another says they’re too tired for school, or one of them pulls the classic “I think I’m sick” voice — my rule is simple: “We’re getting ready and showing up. If you still don’t feel right after 10 minutes, we’ll come home.”
It might sound harsh, but here’s the thing: nearly every time, after 10 minutes, they’re grand. They stay. They get on with it. The moaning stops and they’re off running around or just getting into the swing of things.
If you can just show up you’re already halfway there.
“Just go in, you’ll be grand once you’re there.” My mother knew that motivation rarely shows up before the bus.
It usually shows up after. And science backs her up — psychologists call this “activation energy.”
The energy required to initiate something is significantly greater than the energy needed to maintain it. Once you’ve begun, momentum carries you.
The mistake is waiting to feel motivated. We scroll, we stall, we make deals with ourselves. But motivation is unreliable. Habits are better.
The simplest habit is just: boots on, bag packed, out the door. So yeah, the hardest bit is tying the laces. That’s what counts.
This is what I tell my kids, and myself: give it ten minutes. Don’t want to go to training? Grand.
But put the boots on, and if you still want to leave after 10 minutes, we’ll go home.
Okay. But get dressed, pack the bag, walk through the door. If you feel terrible after 10 minutes, call me.
Don’t want to exercise? (That’s me most days.) Fair enough. But get on the bike, jog to the corner, or pick up the kettlebell for 10 minutes.
Most of the time, you’ll keep going.
One of the biggest things we’re told is that life is about being brilliant. Winning, getting top marks, and landing the best job.
However, the truth is that brilliance is rare. What matters is just being there.
The friend who turns up at the funeral. The colleague who’s always there for the meeting. Philosophers knew this, too.
Don’t talk about it, don’t plan it, don’t wait for the mood to strike. Just turn up.
Don’t get me wrong, most days I just want to scroll, drink tea, and nap. I’m lazy.
Most of the time, I’d rather avoid everything. I can’t handle big mantras or reasons for existence.
When I do show up, I’m rarely in a great mood, but you’re there, so you might as well get on with it or find a coffee that helps.
This is the Aristotle bit again. We’re just what we do, over and over.
If you keep showing up — to school, training, work — you turn into the sort of person who just shows up.
It’s who you are. You don’t have to argue with yourself every time. You just go.
Psychology says this matters for kids. If they learn early that we show up, they’ll keep that as adults.
They don’t need to be the best, just steady. I was that kid. I was never the best at anything.
There were months when I died on stage doing stand-up, but in my head was that voice: “Just go in, you’ll be grand once you’re there.”
Here’s the thing: sometimes you do go home. Sometimes you show up, give it 10 minutes, and you’re actually sick or just wrecked. That’s fine.
The win isn’t in staying. The win is just turning up.
Think of Camus and Sisyphus. He had to push the boulder up the hill forever. He never gets to the top. The win is just in showing up to push, every time.
So yes, I’ve quoted Aristotle, Marcus Aurelius, and James Clear. But I didn’t need to. My mam was saying the same thing: “Go in, you’ll be grand once you’re there.”
And remember, the bus leaves at 8.05, whether you’re on it or not.