Misery

I've got some sort of a chest infection at the moment which means as well as coughing like a 60 a day smoker, my childhood athsma comes wheezing out of the cupboard to haunt me. I've now had this for over a week, I can't run, I can't ride and I'm miserable.

Some friends ran their first race this weekend (Herts 10K) which I'd been training like a bastard for and had to pullout of due to the aformentioned non functioning lungs and it was great to see them complete it and quickly start talking about what they're going to do next (Willow Foundation 10K in November) but god it sucks standing on the sidelines (wheezing) watching other people running when I can't.

This is an elaborate cold, how do people who used to be sporty and now have got something seriously wrong with them that stops them doing stuff, get up every morning? I like to think if the unthinkable were ever to happen I'd rise to the challenge and make a life for myself doing what I can.

But going on what a miserable pillock I am now after just one week I wouldn't hold out a lot of hope.

Lots to do

I've got loads I want to do, plenty I should do and none of it seems to be getting done.

I've got a half day at a circus school learning lassooing, whip cracking and knife throwing. It's all paid for I've just got to get off my arse and set a date.

Its my 40th birthday in November and I can't be arsed to arrange anything.

I haven't had a holiday, I'm kind of tempted to do a week long ride (coast to coast or something similar) but it needs so much organising.

I'm meant to be ploughing my way through books for an MCSE.

Then theres all the work that needs doing on the house.

Now people are talking to me about booking stuff for next summer. My brain can't cope with thinking that far ahead.

Ow! Am back home after a brief stay in Watford hospital. One minute I'm going to bed and everythings normal, then I'm in hospital being prodded and poked by a steady stream of strangers, the next I'm at home shambling round like a geretratric.
Apparently my appendix (an organ I used less often than a Daily Mail reader uses their brain) was unhappy with it's living quarters and demanded to be rehomed. The whole process has a slightly surreal feel about it (and thats before the introduction of various high end narcotics). On the one hand here I am home less than a week since the first symptoms presented themselves and on the other it already seems an age ago and I'm bored senseless and am desperately craving a run or a ride.
The one thing I do know is I love every single one of the members of staff in the Acute Admissions Unit in Watford hospital. The ward had only been open a few days and was being staffed by nurses from Watford and Hemel Hempstead none of who knew where anything was or who did what. But day or night, there they were, always helpful and always smiling. I've always respected them but I now feel even less able to moan about my job.

I'm Back

Hello world (or whoever is bored enough to be reading this drivel) I'm not sure what excuses such an extended gap between postings:
1. A death in the family
2. Unemployment
3. Alien abduction

Thankfully I've experienced none of the above (although my butt does hurt) so it must be down to sheer laziness. I'll make more of an effort in future.