On the subject of looking for positives, I’m loving my swimming again. I used to swim competitively, but by the time I hung up the Speedo’s I was heartily sick of it. I’m very glad fate forced me back in the pool. Not least since I’m pretty useless at most things so it’s nice do something really well.
Roll back to October 1999. I live in Newcastle, I have a bit of hair, our biggest client is Northern Rock (!), I wear a suit a lot.
Finally it’s the morning of The Great North Run. I’ve been training for weeks and I feel pretty good, probably fit enough to do well under two hours.
At the start I feel great, and the first two miles melt away. But then something goes wrong. Groin strain.
By the end I’m part jogging, part stumbling, while an invisible rusty bread knife gouges into my hip. Somehow I’ve finished, and I manage the metro train home to Jesmond. I get straight in the bath, only to find half an hour later I can’t get out. It’s a bit awkward when my female flatmates have to get me out.
That was the first time my hip let me down, but it wasn’t the last. The doctors diagnosed a hernia first time around, and it was duly operated on. But still the pain persisted. Gradually I couldn’t run flat out for more than an hour, then it was half an hour, now it’s around twenty minutes. It starts to ache, then it starts to hurt, then I have to stop.
And now I know the cartilage has worn out – which is untreatable. I can play five a side for an hour, I can run a bit in the gymn but not much more than that. But it’s all good.
Not being able to run forced me to think about doing something else,and after fifteen years of not wanting to see a swimming pool, I got back in to see if I could be any good again.
And now I love it. I won’t bang on about the sheer pleasure of doing something well again, but I swim all the time again now. It probably wouldn’t have happened unless my useless body forced me into it.
NORTHERN PLANNER 
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