Looking at the big picture


After not having worked for nearly 5 months due to my accident, it was with relief and trepidation that I would return to my old team and the project I was forced to leave.

Heading back in for my first day was something of a relief, but as the train neared my city station. The butterflies in my stomach began their war dance the nerves and jitters hit home.


Not that I should have had any concerns about what my role was and If I was still capable of processing all the information which would be dumped in my lap over the coming weeks. It was more if my mind would be able to cope with the social part of the job.

Friendship and caffeine got me through the day, only just. I was so exhausted on the trip home and struggled to stay awake, hoping I wouldn’t fall asleep and miss my station.

I have been back a few days now and it’s getting easier. And it will eventually be a normality for me in the coming weeks.

My life has become much busier now that I’m back at work. I still need to continue with all my rehabilitation exercises, get to hydrotherapy and see the physio a few times a week.


Busy weeks ahead, but at least I’m moving in the right direction. And that forward direction will continue. Going backwards is not an option. Not now. Not ever.

As my physio said. ‘You broke your back in a cycling accident less than 5 months ago. And you’re going back to work. Don’t be so hard on yourself.’

As much as his words made perfect sense, it’s still tough at times to see the big picture. And that’s something we all need to do.

Light at the end of the tunnel 


As the days, weeks and months all slowly slipped by, my rehabilitation continued to become more intense as did all my exercise sessions.

With each passing week, I found I was able to move a little easier and my days weren’t filled with pain and my body was recovering. Slowly, but nonetheless recovering.

So as I continued my journey to full recovery, I continued to look for the light at the end of the tunnel. But no matter how much I think I had progressed, the tiny pin prick of a light never seemed to get any bigger.


It was then I was told I should look back through the weeks and months and see how far I had really progressed.

So as I looked back over my shoulder, I could see a tiny light, way back in the distance. It was where my rehabilitation journey had begun. It was just as far as the light in front of me, where I was heading.

The hardest part of any journey is the middle part. You are far enough from your starting point, and just as far from your destination. Frustrating, but you know you are heading in the right direction.


It’s times like these where you need to be a ‘bit of a mongrel’ and attack the last part of the journey with guts and determination. It’s going to be the only way to make it through the tunnel and out to the other side.

I know the my own journey still has a long way to go, but I do know what awaits me when I eventually arrive at my destination.


We all need to set our sights on that pin prick of a light at the end of the tunnel. And we can do that with the help and support from the people around us, who want us to get out of the dark tunnel.

Leave The Light On For Me


When I was young and wild, at least I thought I was a wild child, I would be out every Friday and Saturday night, but unlike the youth of today, I would end up back at my parent’s house, and in my own bed, and well and truly before dawn.

There are a few reasons for my actions, one was that pubs and clubs stopped serving alcohol at 2 am and they shut up for the night. Unlike nowadays where patrons can continue drinking well past sunrise.

The other reason was that my Mother always threatened to rent out my bed if I wasn’t home by 3am. Nice threat, but would have never worked.

So when I did get home from a night out with friends, there would always be a light on. The porch light would be shining bright and never be turned off until I was safe and sound and back home.


It was a beacon in the darkness of the street. The street lights only just throwing light near the front of the house.


In many other ways, family and friends can also leave a light on. Not always physically such as a porch light, but they can show the way to a place where you belong. A place where you always want to return.

Make sure you keep a light on for others, as they may sometimes need that light to bring them home.

Chapters Of Our Lives

Sitting in the kitchen and enjoying my morning cup of coffee, I sat quietly, staring out the window and into vacant space.

The radio, tuned to my favourite station, one which played classic tracks from the 80s. The era in which I cut my teeth on in my musical taste. And the music I still listen to whenever I can. On the bike, exercising, or just chilling out.

So as Khe Sanh by Cold Chisel started playing, it very quickly took me back to some of the best years of my younger days. The days and nights were filled with mates, music, booze and friendships that would forever be remembered.

And that’s exactly what I have from those days. Memories. Great memories to be honest.

But as the song faded and came to an end, I felt a tiny string tugging at my heart, making me yearn for years gone by. Memories of love, laughter, success and failure. All good, and bad.

There is no way to get those years back, they are gone, but not forgotten. Never forgotten.

So as life continues to roll on, it’s natural for us to change, to see things differently than we did, not only when we were young and wild, but also the more current years that have slipped by. Some of those years we noticed, and others seemed to meld into one another. Blurred lines.

And with change in our lives, we begin to see things differently. Not in a bad light, just different. We also begin to question if we are where we want to be at that very point.

Our life starts as a blank book, every paragraph, a moment in our lives. Paragraphs become pages, and pages, eventually become chapters.

Each chapter of our lives defines us, and we need to ensure the next chapter is the one we truly want. If we aren’t true to ourselves, our book will never be the one we really wanted to write.

Become the writer of your true self, we all deserve a happy ending and a journry to be enjoyed.

You don’t know what you’ve got till its gone 

Take a look around. Look at what you have at home, the car you drive, the friends you have, and the freedom that surrounds you. And now, for a few moments, close your eyes and imagine that it’s all taken away, or even just some of. How would you feel? Disappointed, heartbroken, or lost?

This is something that happened to me over the past few months. I haven’t lost anything from my home, nor has my car been towed away, never to be seen again. But my bike is no longer rideable.
I still have my friends and family, and they are a huge part of my life, in so many ways. But what has been taken away from me, is my freedom.

The freedom to get on my road bike and ride to either a preselected destination, or to hit the road and follow a path less traveled. I miss the wind in my face, the speed beneath my wheels, and I miss the comradery with the cyclists who I shared the roads with.

I also miss the simple thing in life, being able to pick up a cup of coffee with my right hand and not feeling a sharp pain in my shoulder. But I still get my coffee, so there is a positive.

Having to ask family to drive me to any place I need to go, or when they are not around, I need to catch a taxi. And I have already had my rant about my love for taxi drivers.

We take so many things for granted, and we only realise how much they really mean to us once they are gone. Hang on tight to what’s close to your heart, because it can be gone forever in the blink of an eye, and there is no way to get it back.

Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got til its gone

Joni Mitchell – Big Yellow Taxi

No Promises

There are some promises that are easy to keep, such as, I promise to mow the lawns this weekend, or I promise to fix blocked gutters before it rains again.

Then there are other promises that are more difficult to keep, no matter how hard you try.

One of my promises to my wife was that I would ride safe and be careful every time I went out on the road bike. Rain, blowing winds and sunny days, I would tell her the same thing as she lay in bed and I ventured off for my morning rides.


This was one promise I broke sometime in mid March 2017. My intentions were good and my years on the bike made no difference at all on this bright and sunny Saturday morning along the Melbourne peninsula. My lights were flashing and I was wearing my multicoloured cycling outfit. But still, a broken promise.

Having been on the road for close to an hour, I knew my halfway point for my outing. There was a slight headwind as I headed towards Point Nepean, and I was pushing myself harder than normal. It must have been the fantastic conditions, and I was out on my own and nothing but 80s music streaming through my headphones and a clear mind.

In a split second, my entire life was about to take a tumble for the worse. But it could have been far more serious. So I consider myself extremely lucky. And I was given a lifeline. 

A car coming in the opposite direction performed an illegal turn in front of me. Obviously not having seen me. And I’m not what one would consider a small unit.

With less than a split second to do something. I did the obvious. I hit his front side guard at over 30 kilometres per hour.

The first and only thing that went through my mind was, it’s over. Goodbye!

I flipped over his hood, landing on my arse and then ploughed into his windscreen, shattering it into thousands of pieces with my shoulder. And my journey continued I somersaulted over his car, as I watched my glasses and iPhone fly well ahead of me.

Landing on the ground more than 12 feet away from his car, I later discovered I broke my back. My L4 to be exact. And in thst split second, my life had changed. Forever!


Pain filled every fibre of my body, but for some unknown reason, I was still able to move my arms and legs. A positive sign I thought as I screamed in pain as I was surrounded by some very helpful and concerned bystanders.

The ambulance trip to the Frankston hospital was one without all that much pain, but I would have to say the morphine in my system had a lot to do with that fact.

The next few hours with my wife beside me at the Frankston hospital and then at the Alfred hospital trauma centre were good, bad, anxious, concerning, and the scariest hours of my life.

I was eventually told I had a broken back, but signs were positive because I was able to move my arms and legs. No internal or neauralogical damage, so another positive sign.

After leaving the hospital five days later, and in a very uncomfortable back brace I was to wear for the following 12 weeks. In some desperate hope my back would heal on its own and no surgery would be required.

With all the damage I had suffered, I was extremely lucky not to have injured any of my spinal nerves and no other nerves impacted. I only have God to thank for that. And not having died on the side of the road was something I still look back at and wonder why?

The following 12 weeks were filled with some of the lowest points in my life. Not just the pain, but the not knowing how and if I would fully recover. And at the lowest point, if I really wanted to continue. I knew deep down I had to abandon all fear if I was to make it through.

With the help and support of family and friends, I struggled through and continued to make progress. First getting out of bed without assistance, and eventually able to walk to my letterbox.

I have to admit ut did get a little easier the more I moved. I ended up going on 5 kilometre walks as the weeks dragged by. My only outings were visits to surgeons and physiotherapists.

The long road of rehabilitation lays ahead of me, 6-12 months I’ve been told before I’m back to the condition I was in before the accident.

In the end, what got me through was love and friendship. And lots of pain medication.

My Scott carbon fibre bike was written off, but I still have my Avanti, which is patiently waiting for me to decide on my path forward.


As for the path after rehabilitation, do I go back to the one sport I loved with a passion, or do I take up stamp collecting, as suggested by my brother.


Whatever I decide, I have honestly found that love and friendship conquers all, physical and mental pain.

No Promises – Icehouse