![]() I was tired - overwhelmingly, crushingly tired, as if I'd been up for days, when in fact I'd slept all night - and I couldn't think straight. Until 19 March, when I woke up and everything was different. I’d been under the weather for a couple of weeks - nothing major, just a persistent cough, but for some reason I couldn't seem to shift it. The change struck like a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky. Then, in March 2021, two months before I was due to get my coronavirus vaccine, all that came to an end. I ambled through life secure in the knowledge that I was basically well, knowing that, if I was tired, sleep would restore me. I was able to finish one job, then start immediately on another, even if it was just changing a nappy then taking the bins out. I concentrated intensely, sometimes for hours on end. I did more than one thing at once, often at high speed. I constantly performed astonishing physical and mental feats without even noticing. It wasn't just that I could get up in the middle of the night to cuddle a crying child, then do live TV the next day - not well, but not so badly that too many people commented. I never felt I had enough time and I would occasionally complain about being tired, but in retrospect I had energy to burn. Eighteen months ago, I wasn't running ultra-marathons, but I had a partner, a two-year-old son and a busy full-time job, and to be honest that was quite enough.
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