Flashes of Panic

For someone who identifies as a runner, being betrayed by breathing is particularly bitter. Respiration is half of the “lungs on legs” formulation of the ideal runner. Training is designed to work on both ends of the energy equation, convincing our legs to do the most work with the least fuel on one hand, and convincing our lungs to absorb the most fuel from each breath on the other.

So the idea that a breath any deeper than “shallow” will trigger a convulsion of raspy coughs feels like rank treachery. (Treachery, thy name is trachea? Something like that.) I expected to be sick over the winter, but it usually doesn’t start this soon. (Some might suggest karma, after I wore my purple hat through Saturday’s activities.)

For some reason (probably the inherent humidity), I can still work hard in the pool without hacking and wheezing.

Now Playing: Hey Jealousy from New Miserable Experience by Gin Blossoms

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