Sir Chris Hoy is a wise, gentle warrior so beloved that his personal tragedy feels like our own, writes HEATHER DEWAR

There are times when we hear something so shocking that it literally takes our breath away; a sucker punch that immediately turns into a sense of shock and foreboding.

Many of us will have experienced it in our personal lives; deep, intense, brutal and a rude awakening to the fact that things will never be the same again.

Of course, when we hear about tragedies that happen to others, there is a distance – a barrier almost – that separates the sad from the truly catastrophic.

However, Sir Chris Hoy’s revelation that he has only a few years left to live is one of those moments where the two – in a way – merge into one. It’s almost impossible to calculate. He may not be part of our immediate family, but we too feel the immediate blow.

How could one of our greatest athletes ever be crushed like this? How could he have been dealt such a terrible hand?

We’re collectively reeling from the awful news, as Sir Chris inexplicably feels ‘ours’.

Sir Chris Hoy’s stunning Olympic career included three gold medals at the 2008 Beijing Games

A dedicated Scot, who rose to greatness on the track – and who showed a fearlessness most of us could only dream of. A man from a normal household, who became one of the most recognizable figures in our country.

From an early age it was all about the bike. From his home in Edinburgh he became a master of BMX, rising up the world rankings and competing around the world with the cream of the crop at junior level.

However, it was on the track that Hoy really began to blossom. His silver in the team sprint at the 1999 UCI Track Cycling World Championships was just the beginning. It didn’t prepare us for what he would accomplish in the years to come.

First came silver in the sprint at the Sydney Olympics in 2000, followed by gold in the kilometer time trial at the Athens Games in 2004.

In 2008 in Beijing he sealed his name in history, becoming the first British male Olympian in 100 years to win three golds in a single Games.

We all swelled with pride when he was knighted for his achievements.

But perhaps it was his performances at the London 2012 Games for which Hoy will always be remembered.

How we cheered when he was the flag bearer for Team GB at the opening ceremony with a big smile on his face. Here was a man we could all rely on to bring greater success to the nation.

When he crossed the line with Jason Kenny and Philip Hindes to take Team Sprint gold, the roar of the crowd said it all. Hoy had secured his status as Great Britain’s co-holder of Olympic gold medals – his total of five equaling the record previously set by Sir Steve Redgrave in rowing.

Hoy wouldn’t stop there, though. His gold in the Keirin catapulted him to new heights.

With six gold medals and one silver medal overall, he remains the third most decorated British Olympian of all time.

Hoy shared all his successes with his wife Sarra, who has been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis

Add that to his eleven world titles and 34 World Cup titles and it was an astonishing career.

It seemed for all the world like he would be our golden boy on the court forever. His retirement in 2013 was a moment for him to take stock and think about his future.

Of course we all wanted him to compete in the 2014 Commonwealth Games in Glasgow, but Hoy was realistic. He knew he didn’t want to be there just to “make up the numbers.”

It seemed that cycling had given him everything – and now it was time for the next generation to shine. To encourage others and embrace new beginnings.

To his great credit, Hoy has continued to do so to this day.

And now comes this heartbreaking confession that he has two to four years to live. As always, Hoy has vowed to fight on, and he is doing so with his usual selflessness and integrity.

In a forthcoming memoir, he explains his future in the bluntest terms: “Just like that, I learn how I will die.”

It’s almost impossible to consider all this without welling up. We are thinking of his children, Chloe and Callum. We think of his wife Sarra, who has her own battle to fight after being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. It all feels so incredibly unfair.

Hoy became a master of BMX and raced his way up the world rankings before graduating to the track

But in the darkest of times, it reminds us all of the fragility of life – and the value that good people can add to the world when the going gets really tough.

I last spoke to Sir Chris last August, shortly before his first cancer diagnosis. We sat on a dusty wooden bench in Cumbernauld and filmed the wind blowing over the UCI Road World Championships.

Hoy was grinning from ear to ear as we watched youngsters zoom up and down like crazy on a man-made BMX track.

He regaled me with stories about his time as a youth; about his £5 bike he bought at a flea market, about watching ET at the cinema, and realizing, for the first time, that bicycles can actually help you ‘fly’. It was, he said, a feeling of pure, unadulterated freedom.

On that sunny day in Cumbernauld, Hoy told me, “You have learned so many life lessons. It doesn’t matter how good you are at this sport as a child; you don’t always win.

“You get bad luck, sometimes more than in other sports, so you have to learn how to lose, and you have to learn how to get yourself back up if you fall off. I learned a lot from it and it ultimately helped me on my way to cycling and to the Olympic Games.’

In the most tragic way, it’s a good analogy for what awaits him. You learn to lose, you learn to get back up, no matter how you fall off.

Hoy is – and always will be – an enormous source of inspiration. A true gentleman of a man, always smiling, consistently kind, a fierce, yet gentle warrior.

How he tackles the coming years will define him more than any medal, any victory, any achievement in life. And in doing so, he will teach us all to ‘fly’. For that alone we should show immense gratitude.

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