However, I heard his usual 5:30am alarm and thought ‘I’m awake now, just get it done.’ So out I went on my second run of the year, training for the Great North Run.

Although I had done this race before and vowed ‘never again’, I had decided to help raise funds for an autism charity that had recently supported a friend and their family.

It was 6am in February. The streets were lit with street lights and it was freezing. I had completed just over 4km of my 5km run when I crossed the road on to the pavement, near a roundabout.

I suddenly heard the loudest sound I’d ever heard. I turned round and saw a car had crashed into the roundabout and was coming towards me.

The next thing I knew I was laying on the floor, but facing the opposite way to the direction I had been running in. I had been hit by the car.

A witness said they saw me ‘flying through the air’ as the car mounted the pavement. I was laid on the path in shock. I was disorientated but conscious.

My legs were in an awkward position, slightly raised off the floor. I was aching and couldn’t move them. Then the realisation of what had happened hit me, and I was in the worst pain that I had ever experienced.

I was at the roadside for around an hour and a half before the ambulance arrived to take me to hospital. I was given pain relief, including ketamine. As promised, it helped with the pain but I felt horrific. I actually thought I had died due to the effects of it. It was unbelievably frightening, an out of body experience.

I was treated at the Major Trauma Centre at The James Cook University Hospital in Middlesbrough and they have been my heroes throughout. I could never repay them for all they have done for me.

I had multiple open fractures to my left leg and ankle and was told on various occasions, there was a high risk of losing my leg.

I had nine limb-saving surgeries over the course of the next seven months.

During the first few weeks in hospital, I was bed bound. Muscle and tissue from my right leg was used to rebuild the open fractures in my left leg. I had to have an 11-hour operation. Twice, due to complications after the first one. My legs look like a patchwork quilt due to the skin grafts. I had an external fixator, which is like a cage around your leg, for six months and I had set back after set back.

I returned home for a few months as I learned to slowly walk again, but ended up back in hospital for further surgery due to issues with the external fixator.

Hospitals are massively anxiety provoking for me. The whole time I was an inpatient, I was literally crying out for someone to talk to, but because I wasn’t on a ‘trauma’ ward as such, nobody had mentioned Day One existed.

When I came out of hospital, a colleague told me about Day One. I went on to their website and found out about peer support. I couldn’t believe it. This was exactly what I needed.

I had a good network of family and friends around me, but everyone was emotionally attached to me. If I had a day where I was feeling particularly upset or annoyed with the world, I needed someone who didn’t know me to listen. Someone who wouldn’t try to make everything better, because ultimately nobody could. I wanted to speak to someone who had had a similar experience.

That’s exactly what I got when I was paired with Rob. From our first call, we got on great. I felt comfortable with him and could say anything to him. He shared a bit about his story so I understood that he too, had also had long hospital stays.

Until you’ve experienced major trauma yourself, you could never begin to understand every part of it. I have learnt so much this year. I feel I would have benefitted from having someone earlier, to hold my hand and give me hope, and tell me that things would start to feel somewhat ‘normal’ again one day.

I have gained so much from connecting with the Day One team. I spoke to the team over the phone and their James Cook caseworker spent valuable time at my bedside when I returned to hospital for the last operation.

I feel like my trauma has been a similar journey to grief or bereavement – you have lots of people around you at the start, but that disappears as time passes. It’s the quiet moments that are difficult and trying to function in a world that isn’t fully set up for people with disabilities. I was frightened to go to the supermarket for example, because of the noise and number of people.

Through Day One, I took part in workshops with a psychologist. These helped me realise that there are many other people who understand my frustrations and they reassured me that I am not alone.

I’m not fully recovered yet and to be honest, I’m not sure I ever will be. What does ‘recovered’ even mean?

Physically, I’m back at the gym and consistently overcoming challenges. I feel that I lived a life in one body for 36 years and now I’ve been transported into a new one, and that’s a lot to take. Mentally, well, I won’t ever be the same person.

My aim is to be part of the peer support team in the future, but on the support side this time. I feel my experience and journey will give people hope. I know I am fortunate. I have a fantastic employer who has supported me financially and emotionally. I have the best family, some amazing friends and the kindest, most patient partner who has seen every dark moment. Lots of people don’t have this support and that is why I am so keen to promote the valuable work of Day One and let others know that this amazing service exists.

Before my accident I was fit and healthy. I would go to the gym four or five times a week. I could run 10k off the cuff. I loved walking and lived a very independent life, with a fantastic career.

My injuries removed most of my independence for a long time. It meant I had to recalibrate and set new goals. Achieving these goals have got me through my recovery. At first it was small things such as making my bed, or washing up: things I couldn’t do when I first came home from hospital. Then it built up to walking up and down the stairs each day, then walking outside, then driving.

Now I am getting back to walking, I have set myself the challenge to walk one mile on the anniversary of my crash, whilst raising funds for Day One. This is something in my ‘old life’ that I could have done without a second thought. As well as the exercise, I am doing this to stimulate my brain and give me a sense of achievement.

A mile will be hard work, but I want to raise as much money for Day One as they have done so much for me, and for others.

I will end my walk at the place where I was knocked over. At the moment, every time I pass there, I think that’s where I was hit. I want that to change, and for it to become the place I associate with completing this challenge and doing something positive.

My legs will never look the same. My shoes, my clothes, they have changed and with it, so has my identity. So much was taken away from me on that life-changing day, but one thing that will never be taken away from me is the power of my mind and I will continue to use that power to help myself and others.