The end of 2017. Bollocks.

Before Herning I went to the Docs as I’d been struggling with breathing during training. Coughing like a maniac, wheezing all over the place and basically couldn’t get the air in, particularly during higher intensities. Oxygen eh, who knew it was so crucial.

Anyway, the symptoms deteriorated pretty rapidly and I’ve now been off training since mid-July. Oh how it feels like I’ve fallen off a cliff into no-hopers-ville. Even a walk up a steep hill leaves me coughing and feeling like this guy. Somebody call a wambulance.

tired

So, that’s the season cut short.

Again.

2016 was lost to a slipped disc and subsequent micro-discectomy. Now 2017 has been binned because of a fucking cough.

Now that I’ve by and large finished wallowing in self pity (and am thus able to write something), I’ve realised all I can do is chill out, get on top of whatever this chuffing thing is and look towards 2018.

I’m gutted not to fully represent Team Sponge this summer, because I’m immensely lucky to have some of the sweetest kit on the market, but it’ll have to wait.


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