Spring 2009. Brad was a few weeks out from an Ironman — eyeing a World Championship spot in Hawaii — when a car hit him from behind on a training ride. No warning, no time to react.

"I got this feeling that something was not right — and the next thing I knew, I was hit by a car from behind. The next thing I know I am on the ground, under the wheel, and my bike is twenty feet away."

Brad

An ambulance brought him to hospital in and out of consciousness. Two hours later he was released. No broken bones, no broken neck — and in 2009, little awareness of what an invisible brain injury could mean long-term. His first concern when he arrived at the hospital? His bike.

"I do not think it was taken all that seriously," Brad reflects. "You hit your head — does not matter if you slipped in the shower or banged it on concrete. It was just: you seem fine, we can't find anything."

The neck and pelvis injuries were immediately obvious and Brad focused his early rehab on regaining mobility. But the head injury crept up on him over months. He kept working, determined it would not affect him. Six months later, he could no longer function at work. His GP supported him stepping back.

"There was just no literature or research out there — so I was out here on my own trying to figure out what is going on and trying to read and educate myself."

Brad

Neurologists and specialists offered diagnoses but few practical answers. Brad eventually found neurofeedback — a non-invasive, brain-retraining process that uses auditory or visual feedback to help reconnect disrupted neural pathways. Combined with consistent exercise, these two approaches formed the foundation of a recovery that spanned more than a decade.

"People think you have to be knocked out for it to be a concussion. You do not. I have heard of people slipping in the bathtub and being worse than I have been."

Brad

Brad admits he still questions his own diagnosis — the absence of dramatic imagery, the lack of a coma or neck brace, makes it easy to downplay. But that instinct to minimise is itself part of the problem. "My brain wants to downplay it," he says, "and that is where I see the issue."

He reflects that if he'd had a sensor showing the force of the impact, he may have understood the seriousness of his injury far sooner. Multiple CT scans showed nothing — brain injuries are, in the vast majority of cases, invisible on imaging.

"You must be honest with yourself and how you are feeling. Brain injuries are serious and they require a lot of patience. You cannot compare yourself to the person or athlete you were before the injury — because that is not where you are at."

Brad

Brad describes the noise sensitivity that stopped him going to restaurants or shopping centres, the vertigo that led him to self-impose a driving ban no doctor suggested, and the grief of losing his competitive benchmark after years of top-5 finishes in his region.

His advice is clear: assess honestly where you are, resist the urge to rush back, and accept that recovery is not a straight line. "Sometimes you are dealt what you are dealt to teach you stuff."

HIT thanks Brad for sharing his story so openly. His experience is a reminder that TBIs do not discriminate — they strike during training rides, at the BMX track, and in everyday life — and that better tools for recognition and data can change the outcome for athletes at every level.