I recall a conversation at the British Rowing Team’s headquarters in Caversham where one of the coaches was talking about the importance of becoming a student of your sport AND your body.

I bought into this philosophy and in many ways I’ve lived and breathed it in sport my whole life. 

Sport gave me a great insight into my body and through my studies and my work with professor Steve Peters, I have begun to understand my mind.

I’ve spoken a lot over the years about how environment is key - not just for world-class performance but also for our mental health.

This became even more apparent to me after returning from Jamaica and finding myself in London. 

With only a handful of hospital appointments, I found myself struggling mentally. There were days I couldn’t leave my bed. And on the days that I could get out of bed, I didn’t want people to see me.

I didn’t want to receive pity or ‘be an inspiration’ so I just locked myself in my flat.

It’s hard to go outside and hide when you’re paralysed from the neck down on one side and can walk. 

I often find when I’m out with my friends in wheelchairs people don’t tend to ask what happened so they can avoid the whole trauma of going over and over their injury.

However, most days when I leave my house in London people ask what happened to me and I find myself in a situation with of “you’re an inspiration” or “I’m so sorry for you”. 

Which is okay - I understand people only mean well, but there are days when I get so exhausted from this and I live the traumatic experience that paralysed me over and over again, so it’s easier to just lock myself in my house.

This is more a reflection on me and how well I am coping.

If I am doing well in life I can manage these conversations and am humbled when I can inspire someone. 

I guess what I’m saying is that there are days when I crave to just walk into a cafe without people staring and saying “oh my god what happened to you”.

What I’ve started to notice is that I can manage these discussions anywhere in the world apart from London.

In London, I am falling apart and if I’m honest with myself I feel like I am close to giving up.

I never thought those words would leave my mouth but I am so exhausted and feel that I no longer want to be trapped inside this body.

As I sit drinking my morning coffee looking out the window at another building I fall onto my knees in tears. I feel broken.

It makes me think of the movie ‘Full Circle’ again and how the young kid chased adrenaline.

I’m starting to wonder was his reason of pursuing such extreme sports to escape his wheelchair and the reality of everyday life by throwing himself down and mountains. 

Has he become addicted to adrenaline, and adrenaline the escape of his reality?

After I stopped crying I sat looking in the mirror asking myself if am I chasing that same adrenaline to avoid my reality. 

This would make sense - it could be why I struggle so much in the London environment and crave mountains and nature, as there I can ski, mountain bike and push myself. 

Maybe I have become addicted to this feeling not for the love of sport but to hide from my reality. 

The daily reality of manually having to assist bowel movements, oncology appointments and the horrible spasms and numbness that attacks my body. 

I started to overthink and became even more frustrated, screaming "please get me out of this body”.

I know that is impossible so the next best thing is to escape my environment.

Without pausing on Thursday morning I woke up and got in my car and started driving towards the Alps.

Twelve hours later I was at the top of the Alp D’Huez climb and I felt my body instantly shift into a state of calm. 

For the first time in six months I felt this release around my whole chest it was as if a belt had been tied around tightly and was compressing my lungs.

I stepped out my car and breathed the fresh mountain air again.

And when I woke up on Friday morning and sat having my morning coffee, what a difference from a few days ago.

Rather than sitting looking at a building here I was, sat looking at snow-covered peaks, I was also happy and content in my body.

Of course, the discomfort of the numbers was still there but I could breathe and enjoyed the silence.

I also knew that this weekend I will get that rush of endorphins from skiing, I will escape my reality and for the first time in several weeks I will feel alive.

It’s been a setback but I feel I have learned.

As humans it’s important for us to have a sense of belonging, a connection to nature and to move our bodies.