It is one of life’s cruellest ironies that in the face of death, many people begin to understand the full value of life. When everything is stripped away, what remains are the moments we share, the purpose we seek, and the relationships that give us meaning.
Chris Hoy, like so many who have received a terminal diagnosis, has been forced to wrestle with questions most of us avoid, what does it mean to truly live when time is running out?
Chris and his wife Sarra have spoken about the importance of staying positive, not in denial of reality, but in acceptance of it. “This is nature,” Chris said. “We were all born, and we all die. This is just part of the process.” It’s a hard truth, but one that is essential to coming to terms with the inevitable.
I remember watching Chris back when he won silver in Sydney. I suppose I had a special interest because his fellow track cyclist and pal Craig MacLean was from the Highlands.
It was post London 2012 before we met, though, when we both stayed at the Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh as guests for the Royal Assembly. We had a dinner and a small breakfast, and it was very cool experience.
But since then Chris has been a great support to me through all of my surgeries over the years, and over the last year that has only deepened due to the turn his path has taken.
Chris Hoy inspired thousands on the track however, in sharing his recent cancer diagnoses he will not just inspire, but his voice will save thousands of lives.
A terminal diagnosis changes everything.
It’s the moment when time seems to stop, and the future that once felt boundless suddenly narrows to a point.
Sir Chris Hoy, a six-time Olympic gold medallist and one of Britain’s most celebrated athletes, now faces this reality. Yet, with remarkable courage and openness, Chris is transforming his journey into a message of hope and one that could save countless lives.
For Chris, it all started with pain in his shoulder. Easily dismissed as the lingering effects of his athletic career, these symptoms were later revealed to be advanced prostate cancer that had spread to his bones. Reflecting on the moment of his diagnosis, Chris writes in his memoir, All That Matters: My Toughest Race Yet, “And just like that, I learn how I will die.” It’s a stark reality that hits hard, and as I heard him say this, I could feel myself holding back the tears.
One in two people will now hear the words, “You have cancer,” at some point in their lives. For those who do, the emotional weight is universal. It’s not just fear of the illness itself, it’s the way those words force you to confront your mortality. The certainty of death, once an abstract idea, becomes immediate and real. It’s a moment that divides life into two distinct parts, before and after. As Chris explains, the hardest part wasn’t the physical symptoms, it was the mental battle. “Most of the fight has been in my head,” he admits. “I stopped thinking about the weeks or months ahead and started focusing on just the next minute.”
This focus on the present, on living one minute at a time, became Chris’s lifeline through treatment. “When I narrowed my view to the immediate moment, I found peace,” he shared. It’s a profound lesson that extends far beyond illness, life becomes manageable, even joyful, when we allow ourselves to be fully present in it.
Chris’s diagnosis came with another layer of complexity, while he was navigating his own illness, his wife, Sarra, received a diagnosis of aggressive multiple sclerosis (MS). Sarra is one of the strongest and kindest people I know. Their mutual strength and unwavering love exemplify the power of shared resilience. Together, they remind us that even in the face of immense hardship, connection and compassion can create something unbreakable.
Chris’s openness about his journey has already inspired thousands as was seen in spikes of traffic to prostate cancer websites. Prostate cancer often progresses silently, making early detection critical. Chris’s advocacy is breaking down barriers of silence and stigma, urging men to prioritise regular check-ups and screenings.
Chris’s journey has resonated deeply with me, not only as a close friend but as someone who understands the complex emotions that come with facing mortality. Watching him confront this battle with his characteristic strength and grace has made me reflect on how we, as humans, face the reality of our own mortality.
Chris has spoken openly about how this diagnosis has changed his perspective on life, reminding him to appreciate every moment. As he said in a recent interview, “This is bigger than the Olympics. It’s bigger than anything. This is about appreciating life and finding joy.” His words capture a profound truth that many who face terminal illness come to realise, life’s value is not measured by its length but by the depth of experience we choose to embrace.
With that in mind In a few weeks Chris, Jason Queally, and I will embark on a 255km cycling challenge through Cambodia to raise funds for ISF Cambodia and help them in creating a better future for the children of Cambodia. This ride is more than a test of endurance, it’s a celebration of life, of purpose, and of connection. As we cycle through Cambodia’s landscapes, surrounded by the beauty of the land, but also, its history, we’ll be reminded that life’s true purpose lies in what we do for others. The children we are cycling for represent hope, and this ride is about creating opportunities for them while finding meaning in our own journeys.
Chris’s message is one of profound courage, that even in the face of a terminal diagnosis, it is possible to live fully, to find joy, even in the simplest of moments, like that morning coffee, which ironically, we both joked about how bad it tasted during treatment.
His ability to confront all of this while continuing to advocate for others demonstrates the strength of the human he is. Through his honesty and his book, Chris is teaching us not only how to endure but how to thrive. His words, his actions, and his story will save many lives, and for those facing a terminal diagnosis, his words can bring a level of comfort in the hardest of days.
In the end, cancer doesn’t just take, it reveals. It shows us what truly matters is the relationships we nurture, the love we give, and the purpose we pursue. As Chris and Sarra demonstrate, life’s true beauty lies in its impermanence. Their story is a reminder to live with intention, to connect deeply, and to leave the world a better place than we found it. For all of us, their journey is a call to action, a testament to the power of courage, friendships, and love.
Cancer, particularly a terminal diagnosis, forces people to live with intention. It strips away the noise, leaving only what truly matters in life, relationships, purpose, and the impact we leave behind. Watching my friend navigate this has been a reminder that facing death doesn’t mean giving up on life; rather, it means choosing to live fully, to be present, and to find joy in the time we have left.
The journey ahead for Chris, as for anyone facing terminal cancer, is fraught with challenges, both physical and emotional. But it’s also a journey that can be filled with moments of profound clarity. It’s a reminder that life is not measured by the number of days we have but by the way we choose to live them, and in that I look forward to many more coffees with you, my friend.
