Friday, 25 November 2016

I shudder to breathe...


After coughing miserably for most of the last ten days, I was diagnosed yesterday with bronchitis. The doctor also helpfully told me a story about how, when he was at University, he tried to exercise with bronchitis and ended up on his hands and knees on the gym floor coughing up a ball of phlegm the size of a cricket ball.   Hmm.  Cool story, Hansel.

It’s viral, so there’s not much anyone can do about it, but at least we know, eh? (my wife tells me that I’ve even been coughing in my sleep. Sorry about that). What I also know is that my last run was a steady parkrun with C last Saturday and nothing since. I even stopped cycling to work earlier this week when my short ride home reduced me to a wheezing, spluttering wreck.

I’m sure the enforced break is a chance for my body to rest from the 1000-odd mile pounding that I’ve subjected it to so far this year… but at the same time, it’s intensely frustrating. I’m going to parkrun tomorrow to walk around at the back and to hope that a bit of fresh air will do me more good than harm. I’m also – in theory – signed up to do a Turkey Trot half marathon in a couple of weeks. If I’m remotely recovered by then, I’ll probably give it a go with no idea of a time in my head…

Running is the thing that I do that makes me feel better about myself. It can be hard and I’ve been frustrated of late that I haven’t been able to go as fast as I’d like… but I’ve been reminded this week that going slowly is a whole lot better than not going at all.

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