Last week just as the evening was drawing in I went for a run in my local park, South London. It had been a sunny and warm September day and I knew that I had to make the most of it. I view my cystic fibrosis (CF) as a reason to exercise, not as an excuse not to.
If I can’t make an effort and bust a gut on a pleasant night like that then it’s a missed opportunity and I’d feel that CF was beating me. I’m too determined to let that happen…
It was a real struggle – like running through treacle. My lungs were beseeching me to stop. This brought a new meaning to ‘screaming at the top of my lungs’. After about 30 minutes of interval running I arrived back home, sat on a bench, Forrest Gump style, in my back garden and reflected on the importance of exercise to someone battling CF.
As I strongly reference in my published CF memoir ‘How have I cheated death?’ playing sport has been one of the key differentiators in reaching 43 years old with my own lungs. Without a shadow of a doubt, a large part of my longevity in the battle to defy CF can be credited to the amount of sport I have played throughout my life; mainly field hockey, basketball, tennis, rugby, football and cricket. I have always preferred to get my exercise while running around after a ball!
Exercise is not actually straight forward for most CF sufferers as the build-up of mucous in the lungs means that less oxygen is available which causes problems for breathing and general fitness. It is also an extremely exhausting condition – just think how tiring it is to cough for five minutes non-stop. I find it quite literally knocks the wind out of my sails.
In my experience, I have found that regular exercise has become a necessity to keep my lungs ‘tuned’ and it impacts me both physically and mentally. I strongly believe that any activity that exercises the lungs of someone with CF is hugely beneficial.
Junior International
My primary source of exercise over the years has been playing hockey for countless teams and at many levels. As well as playing for club, county and for my region, I was also selected for an England Juniors team and toured Germany back in the 1980’s. I was playing first team hockey till I was 32 and I now play a reasonably competitive level for the London Edwardians third team; though this is ad hoc depending on my health and parental duties for my seven year old son, Felix.
Over the years I have matured in my approach to exercise and finessed my appreciation of how my body and lungs feel and the appropriate times to exercise. To supplement my hockey, I joined a local gym which I’ve found useful when the weather is cold and wet. With my hockey, the good news is thatI’ve not lost my pace as I never had any in the first place. I’ve learnt to pass the ball better and let the ball do the work.
When I’m struggling on the pitch, the chaps (who know about my CF) ask me if I’m OK, but the opposition jokingly check if I had a night on the town or have a bad cold. It’s especially tough in England with the inclement weather. I often jog early in the evening or in a secluded park so when I need to cough, I can be more discreet. This has been magnified with my diagnosis as a type 1 diabetic. Now just getting on the pitch or treadmill, let alone actually playing, takes more and more effort.
I won’t be taking part in an Iron Man competition any time soon, as any exercise is relative to your fitness levels. But my hockey, gym and jogging keep me going; feeling like I’m conducting a relatively normal life. It all helps me to defy the ravages of my illness.
For me, still playing sport, running and competing is the best barometer for how my health is. It also serves as an indication for others to know that if I’m still able to play, that CF can’t be winning the battle. I play on for my own health but also for the positive lift it gives to others.
Everest Moment
I now feel a tremendous sense of elation on completing any sport as it feels like ‘my Everest’ moment. It’s hard and I do have to get pretty psyched up these days before most exercise. It’s still important for me to compete against relatively healthy and fit people as it serves as my health benchmark.
My lungs do definitely benefit from exercise, even small jogs and I feel more vibrant and alive afterwards. I wouldn’t say the exercise is always enjoyable, but the rewards and positive sensation drive me on. It’s only after I’ve pushed myself during a hockey or gym session that I feel really ‘alive’. Fighting CF gives me the encouragement that few can harness.
It’s more than feeling that I have to do exercise, it’s lighting my own internal touch paper to force myself to ‘want’ to do it, which creates my own intrinsic motivation. I focus on both the mental and physical aspects of this desire. Physically, I think what’s more of a benefit to me – running (and enduring a short-term discomfort) or not running (and letting the effects of CF build up). Mentally, exercise is my two finger salute to CF, defiantly declaring “I won’t be beaten. I can do this. I will do this. Just watch me!”
When the going gets tough and my lungs are screaming at me to stop, the power comes from within to see my race to its end. I have to draw on my own motivation to keep running with breaks to stop and cough. There’s no winning for me anymore. It’s all about the actual doing as I know the importance of exercise to my on-going health and survival.
Utter Commitment
I’ve realised that staying healthy and fit doesn’t just rely on a compliance to taking my medication, it needs something more – an absolute commitment to keeping well. Actually ‘wanting to’ rather than ‘having to’ be healthy is very empowering. After a lifetime battling a relentless illness, I’ve learnt to fight it by being just as relentless back. I achieve this through a mixture of exercise and being diligent with my medical regimen.
I 100% respect my illness, know my many limitations and look to avoid the ‘CF banana skin’ of trying to dismiss it and not take it seriously enough.
However tough it is for me to bear, exercise is my version of treading water in the ocean. Once I stop, I’ll drown and that will be it. I’ve literally got no other choice but to keep on going with it. By forcing myself to breathe hard while exercising, I in turn breathe life into my lungs. While there’s still breath left in me, I will continue to run for my very life.
It’s a simple equation for me to keep playing sport. If I exercise and keep as fit as possible, it’s likely that I will stay one step ahead of the grim reaper. In fact, I would go as far as stating that it’s a matter of my life or death.
I might not be able to fully make a difference to the outcome of the game anymore as I could in my younger playing days. Plus my coughing at times can bepretty shocking for those on the pitch. But while there’s breath in this body of mine, I’ll keep playing on for I know it makes a difference to the outcome of my health and my sustained battle with CF. I’m desperate to still be playing sport at 50 and beyond.
I used to live to play sport… now I play sport to live!
Born in 1971, Tim Wotton lives in South London and is married to Katie with a seven year old son Felix. He is a full-time employee engagement manager. He has played sport, particularly field hockey, all his life and regularly goes to the gym. Indeed, he was a junior hockey English international. His eyes and heart have been opened by his cystic fibrosis health struggle which has been a huge factor in his life, but not one that overshadows and defines it.
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