There is something quite interesting that happens when you stop doing something that has occupied a huge part of your life.

Suddenly, you have time.

Lots of it.

On August 31, 1994, I arrived in Australia from Canada.

I was 33 years old, and although I had fallen in love with an Aussie, I don't think I could have imagined just how much that decision would change the course of my life.

This year marks 32 years in Australia

If someone had asked me years ago what a joyful life looked like, I probably would have described a life where everything was going according to plan.

There are moments in life when it feels as though the darkness will never lift.

When you're in the middle of a health battle, a setback, a loss, or a disappointment, it's hard to imagine that anything good could possibly come next. We begin to question ourselves, our abilities, and sometimes even our future.

I've had more than a few of those moments.

Success is a wonderful thing. It validates the hard work, the sacrifices, and the countless hours spent pursuing a goal. But success also carries a hidden danger. If we're not careful, it can convince us that we've arrived.

Gratitude is often thought of as saying thank you for the good things in life. The people who encourage us. The opportunities that come our way. The moments of success we celebrate.

But I believe gratitude runs much deeper than that.

None of us ask for adversity.

We don't wake up hoping for illness, loss, failure, disappointment, or unexpected change. When those moments arrive, our first instinct is often to wish them away and long for the life we had before.

I understand that feeling.

People often talk about resilience as though it's something you're born with.

"She's so resilient."

"I wish I had more resilience."

As if it's a personality trait that some people are lucky enough to possess while others simply miss out. I don't believe that's true.

Who has believed in you before you believed in yourself?

I think we all go through seasons where our own belief in ourselves is shaken. Sometimes it's after a setback. Sometimes it's because we're trying something completely new. And sometimes it's simply because we can't yet see what others can.

That is when the people around us become incredibly important.

A couple of weeks ago I had the privilege of delivering a keynote at the launch of a beautiful book celebrating The Strength of Women.

Rather than sharing my own story, I found myself reflecting on the women who shaped me—my grandmother, my mum and my mother-in-law.

None of them would have described themselves as extraordinary, yet their quiet courage, resilience and unwavering love have influenced generations.

It reminded me that strength isn't always found in the big moments. More often, it's found in the everyday acts that rarely receive applause but change lives all the same.

Some of the most defining moments in life and leadership don’t happen at the top of the mountain, but in the unexpected turns along the way. When plans change, when progress stalls, or when the goal suddenly shifts, the real test becomes how we respond.

In my latest blog, I share reflections from my own journey through sport, life, and reinvention — and how setbacks have often become the starting point for something entirely new. It’s a reminder that progress isn’t always linear, and sometimes the summit we thought we were aiming for isn’t the one that shapes us most.

Would love to hear how others have navigated their own “climbs” when the path changed.

In today’s world everything is fast paced.