Ever since I almost died on the Matterhorn two years ago, my approach to physical risk has changed.

As a young man, I had an entirely different risk appetite to what I do now. High risk adventure sports – like mountaineering, climbing, racing mountain bikes down hills, skydiving and riding motorbikes were a regular part of my life before a big fall that also finished me.

Now, my appetite to take the same risks has been sated, but for how long – I don’t know for certain. I still dream of big mountains and that feeling of elation when you’re stood on a summit after months of planning and the hours spent plodding uphill.

I’m lucky for many reasons: Not just because I’m surrounded by people who put their own lives on hold to limit the impact of my near-fatal fall, but also how things turned out for me since my life almost came to an abrupt end some 12 months ago.

One of the hardest things I experienced during my recovery from a mountaineering injury, was to be physically and spiritually supported by my partner, family and friends.

I was in a wheelchair when I first left hospital. My partner had to push me around when I wasn’t strong enough to go more than a few metres on the crutches. Whilst I had completed ultramarathons like the Marathon des Sables the previous year; my fitness had utterly deteriorated from the 3 months in a hospital bed – so I had to rely on her to help in almost all daily activities.

When I write this article, it doesn’t bring back terrible memories – they were wiped clean in the accident. But the pain comes from hearing your loved ones recounting when they were told that you’ll either die or spend the rest of your life with life-changing injuries or big personality changes; hit me harder than anything else I’ve dealt with in my entire life.