The way Chris Hoy is facing up to his death is a lesson in how to live

It is a strange thing to feel yourself welling up when reading about the illness of someone you don’t know. But I found myself in that situation reading about Chris Hoy’s terminal cancer diagnosis, which he revealed in an interview with the Sunday Times.

Partly, I suppose, it was the bringing home of that horrible fact that cancer can happen to anyone – even a fit-as-a-fiddle Olympic titan who is still only 48. But the thing that struck me most was Hoy’s realism, and his bravery in the face of it.

“As unnatural as it feels,” he said, “this is nature. We were all born and we all die, and this is just part of the process.”

Even though he has had 12 months to come to terms with his prognosis of just two to four more years, that is still a remarkable approach to a disease that causes such fear and despair to so many people. It’s an outlook that feels almost old-fashioned – looking death in the face is something we’ll all have to do eventually, but the modern way is to imagine we can largely ignore the prospect, and probably be cured when we do get ill. I’m not at all sure it’s a healthy way to live.

If he is an example to us all in his attitude to death, there can be no doubt either that Hoy’s life has been inspirational, too. His sporting achievements are staggering – six Olympic golds across three Games – and he has proved adept as a commentator since his retirement a decade ago. He has encouraged other sportspeople in their endeavours, has written books for children, and had a family to boot. And he has done it all with determination and a smile.

In short, Hoy is a man who seized the day. Perhaps that knowledge informs his state of mind now. It should certainly be a reminder to the rest of us that memories are best made in the present, rather than put off for an imagined future that might not work out as we hope.

Not that it can always be easy, especially when we all have basic needs that for many people can only be met by the dull grind of an unloved nine to five. What’s more, we don’t all place value on the same things. One person may value their career above everything else; their neighbour might think there is nothing more important than seeing the world. The key is to try to figure out what it is you’ll not regret having done or failed to do. Getting to that point can take an outside intervention.

When my second child was born prematurely and died within 24 hours, back in 2012, my outlook on life certainly changed. Worries that had once seemed very significant paled by comparison: I stopped sweating the small stuff.

But it wasn’t till years later that I realised I was placing so much emphasis on my work that I was missing out on time with my living children.

On a day off, my daughter – then 10 – remarked how it would be nice if I was around more often. It was probably a throwaway comment, but it brought me up short. In the five years since, I’ve heeded her call. Whatever happens in our lives, I know I won’t regret the changes I made to achieve that.

Chris Hoy’s openness about his illness is important for so many reasons. Nearly 400,000 people are diagnosed with cancer each year in the UK, and close to one in two of us will get it during our lifetime. For many, cancer will come sooner than expected: being alert to the possibility is critical, so the more we discuss it, the better.

Similarly, while we would all want to have the best chance of not dying from any disease we might have the misfortune to develop, that does not mean we should avoid thinking about death.

And if we should try to face up to the fact of dying one day, so should we take a moment to consider how we would wish best to live, for as long as we are lucky to be alive. Hoy says he remains “pretty positive most of the time” and has “genuine happiness”.

And how about this from one of Britain’s greatest ever sportsmen on his diagnosis: “This is bigger than the Olympics. It’s bigger than anything. This is about appreciating life and finding joy.”

What a champion. What an attitude. And what a lesson to the rest of us.