Is resilience something you’re born with – or something you have to learn?Colin: I believe you bring a certain core stability with you. But that alone isn’t enough. You’re tested – again and again. Only then do you find out if you’re truly resilient: if you get back up after defeat, keep going after injury, still believe in yourself when others don’t. Sport isn’t fair. Neither is life. Resilience isn’t a superpower – it’s a mindset.

Jonathan: Resilience has become a buzzword. Back then, people just said: “Get on with it.” But behind that lies a value system: don’t give up, get back up, help others, keep going – even when it hurts. And it’s not something you build alone. It grows through connection, through community. Looking back, I’d say: I wasn’t born resilient. I became resilient.

When you look back today – do you remember the highlights or the hard work more?Colin: The hard work was the foundation – but looking back, it’s the moments when everything clicked that stay with me. When your body responds, your mind is calm, your rhythm’s right. Just fractions of a second – but unforgettable. The path was brutal. Sometimes I’d run alone through the snow in Cardiff. But you do it for that one moment. And when it comes – the pain disappears.

Jonathan: I remember both – but differently. The highlights are like beacons: my world record, the gold medal. But the work behind it is the ground you stand on. And sometimes I miss that. The clarity. The simplicity of being an athlete – no chaos, no overload. Life’s more complex now. Back then, it was all about focus, filtering, staying the course.

What was the toughest phase of your career – physically or mentally? And what helped you push through?Colin: The mind was the bigger opponent. There were times I was physically at my peak – but emotionally drained. You train like crazy, perform great in practice – and then the big race comes, and you can’t deliver. What kept me going was my routine.

Jonathan: I often got very nervous before competitions. That inner voice saying: You’re not good enough. You’ll fail. I never thought: I’m going to win this. But over time, I learned: these thoughts are part of me – not my enemy. And I knew: once I’m at the end of the runway – I’ll deliver. The moment itself was usually very clear.

Was your retirement from competitive sport a clean break – or more of a gradual transition? And how hard was it to let go?Colin: To the outside world, it looked like a clean break. I was still competing in summer 2002 – then suddenly standing trackside with a mic, while Jonathan was still jumping. I remember that moment clearly: suit, microphone – but inside, it was a process. The identity you’ve built over decades doesn’t vanish overnight. Some days, I just wished I could train again. No mic, no media, no doubts.

Jonathan: I can completely relate. I was 37, had achieved everything – and had an injury that told me: this is it. I’d actually planned to continue until 2004. What helped was perspective: the BBC showed interest, I could stay in the game – just in a different role. Then came London’s Olympic bid – that was huge. I didn’t fall into a hole, and I’m grateful for that. But yes – suddenly, there was silence. I had to get used to life with less adrenaline.