As the Olympics started to focus around the track and field - and the fastest man in the world - I felt like I needed things to slow down.

As the sprinters searched for more speed, I felt I wanted time to stop.

Those of you who have followed my column over the years you will know my fascination with time.

As an athlete I wanted to go faster and as a patient I want things to go slower.

Since that spurt of motivation a few weeks ago I have again unfortunately fallen into a downward spiral. 

It’s a trajectory that started after I experienced what I can describe as a vulnerable moment that could’ve changed the lives of the person who was about to attack me and myself.

Ever since I was paralysed I HAVE become more vulnerable.

This restricts the way I live, it is a constant tug-of-war in my mind and my time in London is spent usually debating whether to go out or not.

As I turned the corner I was faced with a choice, a choice to protect myself with my walking stick shield in my body or to let this person run straight into me.

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I knew the runner had not seen me.

He was sprinting full speed through a busy street heading straight for me.

And as he brushed my shoulder I felt myself wobble.

My instinct was correct and thankfully my walking stick protected me.

However, before I knew it the runner was prepared to punch me and in this moment I knew what he didn’t know.

My neck is held together with metal pins and screws if he hits me the outcome it’s not going to be good for either of us.

I quickly get my walking stick up in front of my face saying ‘you’re about to punch a disabled person, please think of your next action’. 

By this time the street is stopped observing what was about to happen and thankfully the young lad decided to turn around and continue his run after he had shouted abuse at me.

As the Olympics heated up and the world witnessed Noah Lyles pip the Jamaican Kishane Thompson to the title of the worlds fastest man in Olympic I woke up the next morning craving time to stop. 

My nervous system was on overdrive and I ultimately wanted to get to Scotland. 

Unfortunately my body is still recovering from radiation and I don’t have the energy to travel that far. 

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So as I searched for a short trip into the country side to escape I found myself close to Reading and where I was based when I was on the GB Rowing team. 

Nestled away in a forest I felt the instant feeling of calm, the feeling of safety and a place I could rest and recover.

The issue is that this is only temporary fix.

My therapist describes these short fixes as putting a plaster on the wound, then I rip it off each time I come back to London. 

Which means the wound is not healing. 

London is trauma to me, both in regards to hospital and to the times of attacks or near attacks. 

As I reflected on what she had said I went to my Pilates class, again a trigger. 

A trigger that I need to be doing this movement daily, both for my mental health but also to keep my spine strong enough to deal with another surgery if needed. 

I thought about the plaster metaphor again, the quick fix. At this point my athlete mindset kicked in. 

The Olympic 100meters was won by 0.05 of a second. 

My life is in a similar equation. If I am going to win in life I have to start thinking like an Olympic 100meter race. 

Am I doing everything possible to win? 

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If I am honest with both you and myself, the answer is no. 

So I am holding myself accountable here and that there is certain areas of my life that I am going to have hard decisions to make to give me the best chance at living longer and flourishing within that time. 

Sometimes in life we have to ask difficult questions in regards to our environment and the life we are living, sometimes we have to make hard choices and I feel I am at a cross roads in my life. 

This was reinforced even more when I did what is known as a sauna healing session. Bear with me here and keep an open mind.

I have always approached things with an open mind and sometimes I feel they work and other times they don’t but I like to give things a chance. 

A sauna healing session is a mixture of hot and cold therapy with essential oils and a body scrub I guess you could say it is the ultimate of self-care and as my nervous system was so ramped up I knew I had to slow everything down and this seemed like the perfect way.

As the session came to the end something happened and I’m not sure what to make of it. 

As I sat with my eyes closed focused on my breathing, the therapist left the sauna, but before leaving she put on Hans Zimmer’s “Now we are free” 

I have never shared this before, but this is the song I listen to before each surgery, it is the song I want played at my funeral and it was the last thing I listened to before winning in London. 

To say this song has meaning in my life is a understatement, as the song played I felt my whole body shift, as I opened my eyes I saw an ice cube in the palm of my hand. 

It had falling from a towel that the therapist had held and somehow landed in my hand. 

As I watched it melt I felt it was a representation of my life. 

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The impermanence of life, what had started as water, became ice and was now returning to water as Zimmer’s ‘Now we are free’ echoed through every cell of my body I felt free.

Was this a message? Was it just coincidence?

I guess it is how you choose to see it. However after 14 years of fighting to stay alive this was a very poignant moment. 

A brief read of the comments on YouTube will show the meaning of this song to many listeners. 

I sat watching the ice cube turn to water until the last drop, and I am proud to say I cried during the full experience. 

It has been 14 years of facing my death and in this moment I felt at peace for the first time. 

As I drove back into London just in time to witness what was so close to history with Matthew Hudso-Smith just losing out on a Gold medal in the 400meters to become the first British athlete since Eric Liddell who won from lane six exactly 100 years ago in Paris. 

What struck me was Smith was also in lane 6, but it wasn’t to be. However I believe he ran his perfect race and won a silver medal that he should be incredibly proud of.

I thought that would be the end of signals this week, as I settled in to enjoy the rest of the Olympics and to see if Lyles could do the double by winning in the 200 meters, and then another sign. 

Letsile Tebogo of Botswana ran the most incredible race, but this was more than a race. 

Something bigger, and this was evident in his celebration, as Tebogo held his spikes up with a date on the side of them to show the world his story would become well known. 

Tebogo was running in the memory of his Late mother, Seratiwa, who passed away in May after a brief illness. 

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With his his mother's initials written on the side of his spikes and her date of birth he later says that he felt she was sitting in the stadium watching him run, and when he crossed the line as Olympic champion she left. 

Tebogo set an African record of 19.46sec in the Stade de France and left me with a powerful reminder of The impermanence of life. 

Tebogo’s mother died on his birthday and he spoke of how it doesn't even feel like his birthday anymore.

As he ran this week it reminded me also of how Eric Liddell ran, there was a greater purpose to Liddell running much like Tebogo. 

They both ran for something greater than the medal and both men live and lived by clear values that humanity can and should take strength from.

Although his mum was not there to see her boy crowned Olympic champion, like him I believe she was there in spirit. 

In what has been a fairly emotional week I feel I am getting closer to finding myself and to a happy place where I can see out my days in peace.