If pleasing people means creating spaces where everyone feels supported and able to be their best, that does not feel like a flaw
I have spent most of my life trying to keep the peace. Not in a heroic United Nations way, more in an “everyone in the room must be smiling or I malfunction” kind of way.
I never set out to be a people pleaser, and I am still not totally sure where it comes from, but I have always felt this instinctive pull to make my environment a happy one.
That shows up in small, constant ways. I will change plans to suit others, smooth over awkward moments with humour, take responsibility for tension that is not mine, or stay quiet rather than rock the boat. If someone looks uncomfortable, I feel compelled to fix it. Peace feels productive to me.
When the energy in a room is good, I am good. When the people around me are relaxed and laughing, suddenly I am firing on all cylinders. As an athlete, a dad, a husband, or just a bloke trying to get through the day, I work best when the space around me feels positive.
A lot of that comes from the house I grew up in. My parents moved to the UK from Ghana in the mid-80s, armed with determination, stubborn optimism, and an iron work ethic that honestly deserves its own little trophy. They had to relearn parts of their education, retrain, and eventually became psychiatric nurses, doing shifts that made their lives look like a relay race. Most days they were literally passing each other on the way in or out of the house.
But somehow our home never felt stressed. It was warm, noisy, and always smelling of food. My parents treated hospitality like a sport, and anyone who visited left fed and happy. Even with their long hours and financial struggles, they carried themselves with joy. They worked incredibly hard, harder than I understood at the time, but they smiled through everything.
Food was our centrepiece. No matter how busy or exhausted they were, something was always on the stove, someone was always dropping by, and there was always a reason to gather. And built into that everyday celebration was a message: work hard. Strive for greatness. And whatever you are doing, do it as a team.
My family was academically strong. My older sisters became a midwife and a teacher. My younger sister is nine years behind me and works as a geography catastrophe analyst. I was the wildcard who in theory became self-employed at fourteen by running in straight lines very fast. At 14 I was the fastest youth in Europe. I had run 10.83 for the 100 metres and felt like I had found the thing that made sense to me. By 16 I had won the World Youth Championships and ended up on BBC Sports Personality of the Year.
My parents were proud, but they also had that specific African parent energy of “this is nice, but have you finished revising?” I remember one moment when I returned from competing for the GB team, expecting applause, but instead I was told off for not doing the dishes. At the time it felt harsh, but now I am grateful. It grounded me and reminded me that no achievement exempts you from being part of the team effort.
I think that is at the root of the people pleasing. I grew up in a home where harmony was the goal. Not perfection, not image, but togetherness. When everyone was good, the whole house was good. And when the house was good, everyone could be their best. As an adult I try to recreate that environment wherever I go. I love being around people, making them feel energised, and watching the atmosphere lift.
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People pleasing often gets a bad reputation. It is seen as weakness, a lack of boundaries, or a fear of conflict. And to be fair, taken too far, it can be all of those things. If you are constantly shrinking yourself to keep others comfortable, that is not healthy. But I think intention matters. For me, it is not about approval. It is about responsibility. I do not avoid tension because I am afraid of it; I just know how powerful a good environment can be. Creating positive spaces is not about being a pushover. It is leadership through energy, empathy, and awareness.
It is funny seeing it in my daughter, too. If we are playing and another child is nearby, she will pull them in like it is a team sport. She has that same instinct for inclusion that my parents gave me.
We did not grow up with much. We lived on a council estate. Money was tight, and my parents were exhausted. But we were happy. I learned that happiness does not come from things. It comes from the energy in the room. When I am in a positive environment, I am productive, focused, and hungry for greatness. And when I pour that energy into others, it always comes back doubled.
So yes, maybe I am a people pleaser. Maybe I always will be. But if pleasing people means creating spaces where everyone feels supported and able to be their best, that does not feel like a flaw. That feels like something my parents would be proud of, even if they would still remind me to do the dishes.
This week I have been…
Reading… This week I have been reading The Chimp Paradox by Professor Steve Peters, which feels fitting given how much of my life is spent managing different versions of myself. The book breaks the mind into parts, and the “chimp” is the emotional one. The impulsive one. The one that panics, overreacts, and sometimes wants to flip the table for no good reason.
I like how practical it is. It does not shame you for having emotions, it just teaches you how to work with them rather than letting them run the show. As an athlete, and as a human, that feels useful. You start to realise how often your reactions are not facts, just feelings passing through. Understanding that gives you a bit more control, and a lot more compassion for yourself when things feel messy.
Walking… I have also been walking. Proper walking. Which might not sound like much, but for someone whose job is essentially to sprint at 27 miles per hour, it has quietly become one of the best parts of my day. After my injury, walking was the first thing I could do. No speed, no power, no targets. Just movement. It reminded me that progress does not always arrive at full pace.
Now I walk to think, to reset, and to feel connected to my body again without asking it for anything spectacular. There is something grounding about slowing all the way down when you are used to living in fast-forward. Walking taught me patience, and weirdly, gratitude for the basics.
Listening… Podcast-wise, I have been deep into The Fall of Civilisations. Slightly unexpected, maybe, but I love history because I like understanding how things came to be. Episode after episode, different empires, different eras, same patterns. Ambition, innovation, growth… and then greed. Every time.
It is oddly reassuring in a dark way. Humans have always been human. Listening to it makes modern chaos feel less personal and more cyclical. We are not uniquely broken, just repeating old mistakes with better technology. There is comfort in learning from the past, even if the main lesson seems to be: unchecked power never ends well.
Harry stars as Nitro in Gladiators, which returns to BBC One and BBC iPlayer on Saturdays this January