MY intention in writing this column and sharing my story has always been to try to help others learn from what I have gone through. So it’s always nice to hear from people who I have struck a chord with.

A few weeks ago I received an email from a gentleman who lost his daughter from a brain tumour at the age of 18. It shook me reading it as on that day I was taking life for granted a bit.

I was probably a bit frustrated with the back problem which has been preventing me doing all the training I would have liked but the message made me stop and remind myself how lucky I am to be alive. I replied to say thank you and on the next email the gentleman wrote down his daughter’s name.

This moved me more than anything. I could feel a tear running down my face, as this made her real. To read her name like that made it more than just an email. This was a person, a young girl with her life ahead of her.

Kiran passed away on May 15 in 2008. She had just started at Cardonald College in Glasgow to study art and was a black belt in Taekwondo.

I won’t lie, as I sit here writing I am struggling to think what words to use to describe how this has moved me. I have cried and I have been inspired by Kiran and I never even met her.

I guess you could say even though she is not here anymore, she is still having a huge impact on people’s lives.

As the world has been spiralling into coronavirus chaos my inner world has had its own battles again. My nervous system has been struggling lots over the last month and those who follow each week will know how much this has taken out of me.

At the moment I feel like I am on the tumour roller-coaster of life. One day I am up, the next I am literally pulling myself off the floor.

I bet not many of you spent time reading papers on the British psychological society website last week. Well, I did. I was reading a paper from a student at Loughborough University who was writing about the two types of passion she finds in athletes - harmonious and obsessive - and how the latter can be a negative.

I found it very interesting as I know lots of successful athletes who I would say fall into the obsessive section. It also got me thinking about which category I fall into. I know I need my sport to keep me mentally calm - if I can’t train, I simply start going into a dark place. I also know this is not a healthy relationship.

Reading the paper made me pause. So I read it a few more times and took notes. I found that on this scale I am 100 per cent on the obsessed side.

Now you could argue that is what has kept me alive but I also know in the long run this is not good for my health or anyone’s health. So as of today I am going to do some inner work around moving to a more harmonious passion about my sport. Maybe this will even improve my drive and motivation.

The part I struggle with most is all of the what-ifs. I spoke about it a few weeks ago - how we build the "what if" bridges and most of the time never cross them.

My what-if is what if I train really hard to just be diagnosed again.

And I guess this is to do with my obsession around competing again. While I should have lots of gratitude to be alive and just ride my bike, my God I still have this deep drive that I want to win on the bike.

I want to race and compete and train everyday like I used to. Can you sense the obsession coming through there?

Thankfully each week there is always a reminder that life is more than just sport. Last week’s came when I read about a 26-year-old Argentinian javelin thrower called Braian Toledo as I sat in the gym after a three hour session working mostly on trying to walk. He had died after being involved in a motorcycle accident as he prepared for his third Olympics in Tokyo.

Co-incidentally, I got a message right there and then from Pete Reed on how he is doing in rehabilitation. It was like someone was sending me a sign to say “hey David listen to your own advice”.

It’s common in life to think that we are not enough. I saw it in the papers a few weeks ago when two rowers spoke about suffering depression after leaving the sport and watching the men’s eight win in Rio, a boat which Pete was in.

These two athletes won Olympic bronze medals in London and I couldn’t help but think it’s such a shame to feel you’re not enough with an Olympic bronze medal. Why do our athletes feel this way? I remember when just making an Olympic team would have been a dream come true. Are we all guilty of taking it all for granted?

I always say to people that I never want someone to say "oh poor you" or give me sympathy. I just ask them to go live life to the full, so today for Kiran and every young person or old person who is facing this journey of cancer, we owe it to them to go out and live our lives to the full with compassion and purpose.