IT'S HARD to believe that Tuesday morning will mark the one-year anniversary since I was in the shape of my life. Oh how things have changed.
One year ago I was preparing for what was the biggest race of my life at the London Paralympics. The SM4 150 individual medley was, in my mind, going to be my time to really make a mark as the jack of all trades but master of none.
In the eight months prior to the Paralympics, of which I survived three aerobic camps, I shed eight kilograms, five of which came in the first few months. At the time I was the slimmest I had been since breaking my femur as a 10-year-old. Unfortunately I have let myself go slightly and have put five kilos back on to be at a more "natural" bodyweight.
One year on, the chaotic Monday-to-Wednesday trainings, where nine sessions were smashed out to leave my 22-year-old body in need of some rest, seem a distant memory. In some ways, those were the days. Recently graduated, unemployed, and with nothing else to do but train hard.
I always thought the full-time athlete life would be terribly boring and repetitive, but I was wrong. There was something refreshing about training hard, for the biggest event available to a disabled sportsperson, knowing that if you were tired you could just have a nap. Unfortunately, when you start working in the "real world" that is not possible.