The pious views you have about “what makes a champion” are bollocks, I’m afraid. Champions are not superhuman. Yes, they work hard, but the reason they are on top of podiums isn’t because they tried that bit harder than everyone else, nor that they “wanted it more”. I especially hate that one. We all want this, OK? We all really, really want this.

No, what put them on that podium is that they discovered what their genes make them physiologically suited to (they didn’t try to make it as a pole-vaulter when they should have been a jockey). It’s that they have been involved in sport from a young age, training (intentionally or not) for a goal they didn’t yet know existed. It’s that they met the right people to inspire them, motivate them, open doors for them, educate them. There are so many Sliding Doors moments in an athlete’s life that none of us can stand up and take sole credit for our results: there’s always a long list of thank yous.

Quite often God is on that list and, even as an atheist, I totally get it. A big thank you to those perfect moments that got you where you are, whether they be failures that pushed you to new levels or successes that led to greater opportunities. Basically, it’s hard to give yourself a pat on the back and say your hard work alone got you where you are.

I started thinking about all this after speaking in assembly at my old school and being described as a champ- ion myself. I freaked out, because I realised I never thought I’d be a world record holder or be in with a shot at an Olympic Games, because I’m not a champion.

I have not “wanted this since as long as I can remember” like many of the athletes you’ll hear say in interviews and I didn’t “always want to be great”. I just fancied the race, whatever that race was. When I was nine it was the local swim meet and now I’m 22 it’s more likely to be an international bike race: I just walked through the doors that opened when I knocked.

So I have prepared a new slogan for our inspirational posters. Tear down the ones that say “Champions believe in themselves even when no one else does!” (bunch of psychopaths) and replace them with “Just give it a go!”. Because I think that’s the secret. You don’t have to believe you will be the best, a true champion isn’t very championy at all, they just keep giving it a go. We can get a second poster made up that says “Give it lots of goes!”.

At least that’s my theory. I spoke in that assembly to 600 teenagers for 10 minutes about who I was in order to give them all the life lessons I have learned. Educated readers will realise this means I can fit all I’ve learned about the world into 10 minutes. Cue another bout of freaking out.

I have a tattoo on my back and it’s a little girl looking through binoculars. It’s meant to be a physical representation of this Scroobius Pip lyric: “it’s said that observation, not old age, brings wisdom / and I observe every single life lesson I’m given.” It’s from Waiting For The Beat To Kick In and you should listen to it.

As you can imagine with something I’ve had permanently etched into my skin, I hold the sentiment in quite high regard. You can’t float through every day assuming that a greater understanding of, well, life will build up on your mind like mildew as time passes. You have to stack things on the compost of your brain; you have to open your eyes to make it fertile, listen to people and their ideas so things grow. I’m taking the metaphor too far now but, heck, you have to question things so weeds don’t take hold!

Which all sounds fantastic, apart from the fact a lot of the time my mind is just tumbleweed. I don’t have the gall to own an opinion that roots itself: all of my ideas float around as just possibilities. I have deleted and restarted this column six times because I’m pretty sure my theory on champions (them just being bakers who got the right recipe of talent, privilege and opportunity to mix with their hard work) is maybe offensive. Is it? I honestly can’t decide.

But I’m trying to collect some convictions, to break my current 10-minute wisdom limit, to stop hiding my beliefs in the phrase “Well I’ve read that some people think…”.

So you can expect black and white things from here on out, this was just the warm up. From now on I’m opening my eyes and seeing answers instead of just more bloody questions.

At least, maybe. I mean, I’ve read that some people think it’s good to have convictions, but at the end of the day who really knows.