Learning
To See
Again.

From the moment we're born, we're given one of life's greatest gifts.

The ability to see.

To feel.

To move.

To experience the world around us.

Yet most of us take it for granted.

Every morning when I look in the mirror, I'm reminded of that.

I see the scars of my past. I see the eye that no longer works. But more than anything, I'm grateful that I can still see at all, even if it's only with one.

The Accident

At 22 years old, my life changed in an instant.

I found myself drifting in and out of consciousness in the back of an ambulance after a cycling accident. I remember screaming, "I can't see," as everything turned black.

When I arrived at the hospital, the doctors took one look at me and knew they couldn't treat me there. I was transferred to another hospital for emergency surgery.

The damage was catastrophic.

I had detached my retina, shattered my lens, lost my iris and fractured my eye socket. One of the surgeons later described the injury as if someone had taken a hammer and smashed a tomato.

Over the next two years, I underwent 13 operations, hoping each one would somehow restore my sight.

It never did.

Eventually I was declared permanently blind in my right eye.

Losing More Than Sight

For a while, cycling disappeared from my life.

It wasn't just because of the physical recovery. The confidence was gone. The bike became a reminder of everything that had happened, and stepping back onto it felt harder than I ever imagined.

For years afterwards, I carried more than just the physical injury. I carried frustration, self-doubt and the quiet question that so many of us ask when life doesn't go the way we planned.

Why me?

Years later, after living with constant headaches and ongoing complications, I made the decision to have my eye removed and receive a prosthetic eye.

Oddly enough, that wasn't the end of the story.

It was the beginning of another one.

Everyone Carries Something

For a long time, I avoided talking about it. Not because I was embarrassed, but because I hadn't yet made peace with it.

As I've grown older, I've realised something.

Every one of us will face trauma in our lifetime. Some experiences are visible. Others remain hidden.

Some people lose an eye.

Some lose a relationship.

Some lose their health.

Some lose a dream they spent years chasing.

Everyone carries something.

Our struggles shape us, but they don't have to define us.

"Our struggles shape us,
but they don't define us."

A Different Way Of Seeing

These days, when I look in the mirror, I still see the ghosts of my past.

But I also see something else.

Perspective.

The accident took my sight in one eye, but it gave me a different way of seeing the world.

It taught me gratitude.

Gratitude for being able to watch my children grow.

For riding my bike.

For running through the bush.

For sitting around the dinner table with family.

For simply being here.

Our minds naturally focus on what's missing.

They search for what's wrong.

It's an easy habit to fall into.

But maybe peace comes from looking in a different direction.

Maybe instead of focusing on what we don't have, we should spend more time appreciating what we do.

I'm still learning that lesson.

Every single day.

Perhaps that's what learning to see again really means.

Not seeing with your eyes.

But seeing life differently.

Why I Became A Coach

The accident took me away from the sport for a while.

But, in many ways, it also brought me back.

It changed the way I train.

It changed the way I measure success.

Most importantly, it changed the way I see people.

Every athlete has a story.

Some are chasing a personal best.

Some are rebuilding after injury.

Some are trying to find confidence again.

Others simply need someone who understands that life doesn't always go to plan.

That's why I became a coach.

Not just to help people become stronger athletes, but to help them keep moving forward through whatever mountain they're climbing.

Every athlete has a mountain.

Find your path.

Why I'm Sharing This

For years, I rarely spoke about losing my eye.

Today, I share this story because I've learned that everyone is carrying something.

Some struggles are visible.

Others are hidden.

If this story reminds even one person that their setbacks don't define them, then it was worth telling.

And if you're climbing a mountain of your own, I'd be honoured to help you keep moving forward.