THE plane touches down on the Kingston tarmac. The image of Usain Bolt leads the way through to passport control and baggage reclaim, although let’s just say the whole process takes rather longer than 9.58 seconds. The best part of two hours since I got off the plane, I get that same sense of relief that every cyclist feels when they discover that their bike has made it off safely too.

The airport doors open and I notice already that the pain has gone. I can feel the benefit of the heat on my body already.

Having said all that, you still have to risk life and limb in the Kingston traffic. Navigating the roads here is always interesting and right on cue the taxi in front of me decides to side ram another car.

No sooner had I made sense of that incident when I see two donkeys pulling a cart along the highway. It is the kind of thing you only see on TV but here it is in real life.

After a few hours fighting jet lag, it was time to pass out. The next morning I wake at 6am on Christmas Eve and temperatures are already in the high 20s.

It’s such a nice feeling to be pain free. Since the training camp in Switzerland, I feel like life in London has taken so much out of my health. The place is a paradox - in one breath it’s saving my life at UCLH yet in the other it’s breaking me mentally.

After two weeks off with flu I knew today was going to be a rough day in the gym, starting back after any break is always tough. And this certainly was - 90 min of suffering finished by sled pulls on the roof of the gym in basking sun was enough to finish me off for the day.

It’s unreal how weak my legs got from the flu, flu with a spinal cord injury equals big problems and it’s something I need to be more aware of.

Christmas Day in Jamaica is strange. Obviously, there is no snow here. It’s fun getting the energy off the Jamaican people as they love to party but it doesn’t feel the same as Christmas in Scotland.

The best gift for me is to be alive and moving, I remember lying in bed last Christmas unable to walk and in excruciating pain. So this year I feel very grateful to be sat building my bike in the sun.

I see photos of my mates online of their Christmas rides back home in the cold and I can’t help but think that looks brutal. But it’s time for me to get out for a few km to get my body moving again and used to riding, I haven’t ridden outside since Switzerland.

This is something I find very frustrating. I get these amazing blocks of training followed by blocks of hospital, which means I am unable to actually train consistently. I feel like a prisoner to my tumour.

So I thought I will ride up the blue mountains, which sit behind Kingston. Now this would normally not cause to much issues, but today it was a fight with the mountain and as hard as it is to say, the mountain won.

As I set off, my heart rate was at 178 within seconds and my legs felt so weak. I remember thinking ‘this is not going to go very well’. It felt like starting all over again from zero, and as each switch back got steeper I saw my speed drop and heart rate go up.

It wasn’t long till I started having that inner conversation again - ‘I can’t do this this, but I have to do this, there is no way I am getting beat’. Thinking back to riding 740km across the alps in 7 days, now I can’t even cycle up one climb.

After 30 minutes of climbing, my mind and body both agreed. The bike came to a complete stop and my head dropped to the bars.

While this was partly frustration there were some other emotions mixed up in there too. Okay, on the one hand the road had beat me today but just getting on the bike is a win. I remember an American sports psychologist saying always finish a sentence with yet rather than can’t.

So as I sat on the floor looking at my bike fighting for a breath under the scorching sun I just said to myself I haven’t achieved this goal of riding up this road yet rather than telling myself I can’t do it. I will be back.

I am under no illusion that the athlete I see in my mind is not the athlete I see in the mirror right now and in all honesty no matter how much psychology I do I am not sure I will ever fully make peace with this situation.

Maybe there are days I accept it as I don’t have much choice but the underlying frustration of not been able to do what I used to is heart breaking.

If you have followed my journey you will notice it’s like a rollercoaster of emotions, on the one hand I am so lucky to be alive and have the life I have and that makes me feel even more guilty when I have a bad day feeling frustrated by the spinal cord injury.

Why should I feel bad when I can still walk and others can’t? When I start thinking this way I acknowledge this is a downward spiral of emotions and one I try to check into place quickly when I feel it. But on days like today it wins.

After a few minutes of sitting on the road running all these emotions through my mind, I have decided that I actually won today after all.

Thirty minutes of climbing was something last Christmas I would have given anything to do so I am very grateful for today and tomorrow I will get back on my bike and keep pushing.

I have to accept that winning medals now is maybe something I won’t do again but that getting on the bike is actually more important for me and that’s my medal.

This will always be a very hard battle as athletes are driven to compete and win. I need to keep playing Dr Steve Peters’ voice in my mind. “Do your best David, that’s all any of us can do”.