In this part of the world, it's finally gotten very cold. There is a hidden lesson in the ice and snow...

I was obsessed with scoring points when I played basketball for the Irish team. I always wanted to score the most. I always wanted to win. This got me far: I was the first Irish person to score the most points at an international competition. But, it left me with a problem.

There I was, walking along the beach, wearing shorts in the depths of winter. The wind was howling and I felt alive and invigorated. To be honest, I wasn't even aware that I was wearing anything unusual.

I'm sure you've heard the cold described as righteous and merciless. I'm sure you've heard it described as god. I'm sure you've heard it described as fecking cold. It can be all of those things.

Everything was white. The snow was thick and the wind was picking up. I was concentrating on each step, hiking up Poland’s highest mountain in freezing temperatures. A few feet ahead of me was Wim Hof. We had been chatting on the way up, but now he was leaping ahead, singing as he went.