January: Allergies, Anarchy, and the Art of Losing One’s Patience

I went into January wildly optimistic. After last year’s turbulence (and that’s putting it politely), I genuinely believed this year would stride in confidently, waving a cup of hope and good intentions.

Instead, January kicked the door down and slapped me with an allergy.

New Year’s Eve set the tone. I ate something, what, I still don’t know, and promptly ballooned into a cross between the Elephant Man and a boiled lobster. Eyes swollen shut, lips like inflatable pool toys, full-body itching, hives… an absolute aesthetic triumph to start the year.

This charming situation dragged on for days. We eliminated foods, products, anything remotely suspicious. Nothing worked. Eventually, the penny dropped: medication. Because of course it was.

A Digestive System Powered by Chaos

I’ve lived my whole life with a bowel that simply refuses to cooperate. This isn’t new. The first memorable incident was when I was ten, due to be a bridesmaid for my cousin, someone I adored. I’d had weeks of abdominal pain, and my parents (very much “you’ll survive” people) eventually took me to a pharmacy, where the pharmacist calmly announced that I was spectacularly constipated. Turns out, going once a week as a child is not the gold standard.

Fast-forward several decades and now my bowel will not function at all without medication, and not just any medication. Oh no. It has to be very specific medication, in very specific forms, because my body likes to collect allergies like Pokémon.

There are three types I use:

One that causes agony and tries to destroy my insides (avoid where possible).
Lactulose, which works but requires extreme hydration, a nightmare when you’re doing endurance sport.
Moviprep (yes, the colonoscopy prep), which I take in heroic micro-doses and which thankfully works for days at a time.

This time, it became clear that lactulose was the culprit. Or at least this brand of it. Because with CRPS, it’s never straightforward. I can tolerate one brand, one formulation, one colour of capsule, change a filler ingredient and suddenly I’m auditioning for a horror film.

Pain Management: Now With Extra Allergies

As if that wasn’t enough, we also discovered I’m reacting to Oramorph, which is mildly catastrophic when you have three chronic pain conditions, including CRPS and neuromas. The neuromas respond to medication. The CRPS laughs at it.

If the neuromas could be fixed, I could ditch most of the medication. But after multiple surgeries and zero success, I’m stuck in a cycle of needing opioids while becoming allergic to them. I’m now apparently allergic to two types, and hoping there’s a third out there somewhere that doesn’t cause my face to swell shut.

So yes, January’s been… spicy.

Training, But Make It Impossible

While all this was unfolding, the weather decided to become a personal enemy. Endless rain meant no training for over a week, first because I was swollen like a pufferfish, then because training in freezing rain is a fast track to hypothermia.

When I finally returned, everything else fell apart.

I’m currently training in a wheelchair that:

Is wishing for retirement
Has already caused a second prolapsed disc
Is being slowly destroyed by rain, mud, and sand

The new chair is theoretically coming. The deposit’s paid. The NHS appointment needed for the voucher? I was told 18 months. Apparently, being unable to function without a wheelchair is not considered urgent.

The Track: A Masterclass in Mismanagement

The track I rely on, especially in winter, has become an obstacle course of incompetence.

It’s open four hours on weekends (because why not).
Football is now played across it, with muddy boots and balls flying into lanes.
The surface is permanently muddy.
Staff regularly use the disabled toilet as their personal throne room.
Doors are locked because of travellers in the car park, which also means I get locked in. Fire hazard? Entrapment? Minor details.

On one glorious dry day, the only one all week, I arrived, excitedly, ready to finally do a marathon. Doors locked. Track rebooked overnight. My booking overridden without warning. Again. This was after the frost incident. Apparently now we cant use the track if there is a touch of frost on the floor! Its more dangerous wheeling on mud than it is on frost!!

I pay more monthly than most gym memberships and yet can barely access the facility. Come summer, it gets worse, restricted hours, endless bookings, and zero flexibility. Other tracks manage it. This one just… doesn’t.

Humanity: A Disappointing Subplot

Whether it’s walkers stubbornly occupying cycle paths in Exmouth, runners stepping directly in front of a wheelchair on a ten-lane track, or people stopping dead in front of me despite seeing me circle for hours, the lack of basic awareness is staggering.

Final Verdict

Training itself? I’m giving everything I have.

Everything else? Absolute chaos.

My body’s rebelling. My medication’s betraying me. My equipment’s falling apart. The facilities I depend on are actively working against me. And January has managed to cram all of this into two weeks.

So yes, January 2026 gets one out of ten on my happiness scale.

Would not recommend. On the plus side, thinhs can only get better from here and I definitely have lots to look forward to, including an amazing speaking engagement and possibly some incredible collaborations with some epic companies! So maybe the 2nd half of January will be a 10?