Work. Gym. Toddler. Sleep. Repeat. (Pub Not Included)
Most dads my age are fighting the dad-bod.
I’m fighting 22 athletes every weekend while praying the kid doesn’t wake up at 5am!
Midlife crisis? Or an international referee?
Part-Time Athlete
Full-Time Employee, Dad and Husband
Forget mates and going to the pub
As the refs, we’re not far behind the players on the field, averaging 6-7kms per game, and we have to train for it.
Last week I literally had to choose between the pub with the lads, or fitness testing in the rain.
No beers, no blowouts. How refereeing killed my social calendar, but built a life.
The ball’s launched 50 meters into the sky.
22 elite athletes explode into a full-pitch counter.
And there’s me – 35, dad-bod, whistle in mouth – Sprinting like my life depends on it to be EXACTLY where the chaos lands.
Because I’m half a step late:
The decision is wrong
The game’s ruined
The crowd suddenly agrees I need glasses.
This is my reality every weekend, out there with the best covering 6-7km, chasing kids ten years younger… as a part-time pro referee who has a mortgage, a toddler, and a 9-5.
Spoiler: Nobody cheers for the bloke with the whistle.
But damn it feels good to be out there with the best.
So, here’s to the invisible athletes – the part-time lunatics like me who killed their social lives to keep up with the pros.
Grab a coffee (no beer allowed) and let me show you how deep this madness goes.
6-7k Per Game | Roughly the Same as the Players
The FIH’s 2013 article “Going the Extra Distance” outlined international field hockey players averaging 8-9km per match.
In comparison, our averages as umpires are right up there:
Midfielders 9km
Attackers 8km
Defenders 7km
Umpires 6km
Just like the players, we’re making critical decisions under pressure and fatigue. Running roughly the same miles, just without the spotlight:
Attacker -> 8km -> Fans chant
Umpire -> 6km -> Asked if need glasses
The Social Life Funeral | Fitness Testing
I buried my social life next to the pub dartboard.
RIP weekends. Cause of death: Yoyo Fitness Testing.
Yoyo fitness test result: 17.8? That’s elite territory - Top 1-3% of blokes my age can hack it.
2025 requirements see us tested 3x per year making 17.8 in the Yoyo Intermittent Recovery Test, and 40m Sprint Testing.
To put this in perspective, 1-3% of general population males at my age could reach this measure, and only 10-20% for healthy/active/recreational male adults.
What this means is, it’s bloody hard!
You have to train. Train seriously, and consistently all year round without serious injury or sickness.
Skip the pub, or else!
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Work-Gym-Kid-Sleep-Repeat | Training as a Couple
My wife’s an international ump too - double the fitness drama!
We’ve titled it Tag Team Training:
I cook
She lifts
She cleans
I wrangle the toddler
Romance level: Active wear and toddler tantrums.
Two working parents juggling to fit their training into the day, and making sure we help enable the other to train as well.
For me this means training early doors before work, and in the evening juggling the cooking and keeping our boy occupied while mum hits the gym.
We’ve really had to work on striking a balance so that both of us get the opportunity to train, we’re both ready for the fitness tests, and our house and 2-year-old boy are cared for.
Spoiler: It’s all sexy activewear and cheeky butt grabs until the toddler needs changing.
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Choosing Between the Pub and the Gym
Social invites? One beer spirals into Uber regrets, wrecked Garmin stats, and a punishing Monday gym session.
The Garmin watch purchase has been a huge insightful journey. Tracking body battery, sleep, heart rate variability, training status, stress and more every day.
But you know the story - Things are going great. We’re in a routine, building toward a tournament. Then the invite comes in for pub night, weekend BBQ, or a birthday party.
The story goes something like this:
“Not drinking” turns into “just one”
“Just one” turns into “who’s driving home”
“Who’s driving home” turns to “shall we get an uber”
Before you know it, you’re staring at your watch stats on Sunday morning which are screaming red alert, and painfully dragging yourself to the gym full of regret on Monday morning.
Please speak to me if you feel this pain!
Right now:
This is the life we choose, and
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
But I am curious:
Are we completely mad, and are we sacrificing too much?