Seven weeks in, and I’d slipped.
Not just physically although the broken ribs and wasted legs made that obvious - but mentally too.
I was dragging myself through the days. On a stick just to move around the house.
Stuck indoors. Stuck in my head.
I couldn’t train, couldn’t rehab, couldn’t play golf. My body is in full retreat.
The same legs that had been leg pressing 260kg in Jamaica, striding the fairways daily under the sun, were now barely holding me up in my living room.
Even watching sport - usually my sanctuary - had started to punish me.
I love it. But when you’re grounded and can’t move, watching others fly begins to sting. Not because you begrudge them, but because you’re reminded, minute by minute, of how far you’ve fallen.
It was my partner who finally bundled me into the car and drove me to where I thrive: the mountains.
This time, it was the Scottish Highlands. Cold air, open space, peaks rolling forever. That environment doesn’t fix you, but it does something else, it reminds you of who you are.
Or at least who you’ve been. And maybe that was the point.
I heard Oleksandr Usyk speak after his incredible win in the boxing ring after his last fight. He didn’t talk about motivation. He talked about discipline. And it hit me hard like a clean punch to the jaw.
I’ve been motivated. I’ve been inspired. I’ve read the books, listened to the podcasts, done the breathing. But I’ve been struggling to even begin rehab again.
Is that a lack of discipline? Or am I just exhausted from constantly trying to move through life with a half-paralysed body?
It’s why those golf interviews I shared last week meant so much to me. Some people missed the point, and that’s okay.
I wasn’t talking about golf swings or scores. I was talking about falling in love with the process.
About showing up daily. About finding meaning in the work, not the win. That’s what keeps you sane when your body betrays you.
And this week, I saw that process in action on two wheels, hurtling across France.
Oscar Onley is just 22 years old. He’s a Scottish cyclist, raised in Kelso, and this week he’s moved even closer to third place on the general classification at the Tour de France.
On Saturday, depending on how things unfold in the Alps, we could be witnessing the first Scottish rider ever on the podium in Paris.
The 22-year-old Brit kept up with Tadej Pogačar and Jonas Vingegaard on the Col de la Loze, one of the Tour’s most brutal climbs.
When I watched him ride powering up those alpine walls, holding his own among the very best in the world, it was breathtaking.
But what really struck me was the backstory. Oscar didn’t appear out of nowhere. He didn’t land at the Tour by accident. His is a story of relentless daily commitment:
A rider who is happy to attack and enjoys the suffering, it reminded me of my days in sport, the hard sessions that nobody ever saw.
It was those days where you had to drag your body off the floor that I miss, now if I am on the floor it’s a result of a fall.
That’s the discipline Usyk was talking about, Real-life, boring, uncomfortable, lonely, necessary discipline that creates champions.
And maybe that’s what I’m rediscovering now. Not through some heroic Rocky-style comeback, but through quiet consistency.
I’m still in pain. Still weak. But I’m trying to show up. It started with a gentle walk around the river Spey to just some very light weights in my garage.
Sport teaches us when we really listen. It’s not about the final time, or the medal, or the standing ovation.
It’s about the process. It’s about becoming the human you want to be, one disciplined day at a time.
Oscar may make the podium. Or he may not. But either way, he’s already shown the courage that matters most, the discipline to turn up, every day, for years. To trust the work and stay in the moment.
That’s what I’m trying to do again in Aviemore after that horrid fall.
I’m trying to find my discipline again so I can get back onto the golf course and bike so that I can live fully aligned with my values again before my next scan results.
