During my time in the corporate world, I found out what burning the candle at both ends does. (It’s not pretty.) I became 35kg's overweight, with poor posture and restricted movement. I had no energy and I felt depressed. Every day was miserable. Therapy and antidepressants weren't working either.

 So, I decided to embark on a multi-year re-discovery journey to see if I could reverse the toll corporate life, and partying-hard took on my body and soul. The first thing I wanted to do was create a meaningful goal. What I came up with was this: 'I want to be happy.' It was a bit vague, but I started to ask myself when was I the happiest in life - and what was I doing.

 After peeling back multiple layers and memories about being at school sports days, swimming, playing rugby, softball, basketball, tennis, and all sorts of other things. I arrived at swimming butterfly. That was the memory I loved the most. And that was me at my happiest.

 That’s when it hit me, the happiest I could remember being was when I represented Wellington at the New Zealand Swimming Nationals in 1982. I was 12 years old and the youngest member in the team. I actually placed 7th in the country for both the 100m Butterfly and 100m Freestyle events. I think it's worth mentioning that up until this point in time, I'd completely discarded that whole swimming memory. It was a big surprise when that memory, or my goal, presented itself.

 My goal was to swim butterfly. Swimming butterfly isn't the easiest thing in the world to be doing, especially considering I was 51 years young. And I hadn't swam in years. But I decided to commit myself 100%. That was when I made a snap decision to create a singular focus that meant working out every single day. I was determined to do whatever it took to swim well enough to tap into those memories of my 12-year-old self.

 At first, I focused on getting my technique and breathing right. Then, when I was happy with the way I was swimming, I created pre-determined workout plans to measure and track my results. It didn't take long to start noticing subtle differences in my life. Like having more of a 'can do' attitude, and looking at myself in the mirror again.

 As time went along my training progressed to a point where I could feel that little 12 year old me. The first time I felt his presence was when I took a dive off the starting blocks and belly flopped into the pool. I hadn't dived into a pool in over 40 years, but what I found out was how high today's diving blocks are compared to what they were when I was swimming in 1982. I can tell you now the 12-year-old me thought that was awesome. It's such a simple thing, but it was quite profound at the same time.

 As my training kept progressing a lot more of these scenarios happened. For me, each time these things happened it was an opportunity for me to connect with my inner child. And bring those good feelings and happy memories forward into who I am today. The next thing 12 year old me wanted to do was race. He loved to compete.

 To start with I would make little races with myself - I would setup training sessions filled with variety and different levels of energy. Sometimes cardio, then technique, then strength. For every session I would record meaningful metrics.

I put a lot of effort into my metrics because they were the concrete proof of what I was doing and how far I'd come. My metrics became my competition. It was measuring metrics that gave competing with myself a sense of reality.

 As I continued to train and compete against myself I set more challenging goals (metrics). Which meant sometimes I wasn't able to achieve what I wanted, and that messed with my confidence. Until I learnt to see these failures as minor setbacks and opportunities to learn something about myself - or the sport of swimming. If I achieved my goals I was progressing as planned. If I didn't achieve my goals I learned a lesson and improved myself.

To say my confidence grew is an understatement. But as my confidence grew I found myself wondering if I could bring back the old buzz of competing against others. So I did exactly that. In my first race at the Masters National Championships, I placed inside the top 10 for my age group. Not bad considering it was my first race in 40 years. But where I finished wasn't really the point.

 Racing again brought back a lot of the same happy emotions and memories that kept me buzzing away all those years ago. Without even trying to drag up old happy memories. Far from it – the more I swam, the happier I became. Setting a purely physical goal wasn’t just about getting fitter. I also wanted to approach my mental health journey from a physical perspective. Plus, I lost 35kg in the process of my transformation.