The compulsory lay-off I was to have from football was a time of great frustration. I have since made several unsuccessful attempts at a comeback, but with each match came the painful realisation that my body was no longer conditioned to the physical contact aspect of the sport. On the other hand, it is impossible to adequately describe the thrill I have experienced at actually having the opportunity and the good health to try.

Back to those symptoms and the summer of 1975/ 76. There was still no real suggestion that my life was in danger.
A day at the Melbourne Cricket Ground, Test Cricket and a full day in the heat. I felt drowsy, and the excitement of the crowd when willow met ball was merely a background murmur. I had developed an insatiable thirst which could not be explained by the heat alone.
"Coke, please," "Make that two cans!"
It had become a familiar path to the drink stand. Nine cans of soft drink was an abnormal amount to consume, and still the thirst returned. When I arrived home, I sat lethargic and silent. Then following several glasses of water, I threw myself onto my bed, and readily sank into a deep sleep. Something was definitely amiss at this time.

Occasional runs of about five kilometres in distance kept me fit - fit enough I thought. Throughout January and February, these jogs became almost impossible.
My earliest memories of jogging are of wintry black mornings, with my father and older brother Gary. It seemed a ridiculously long six ¬kilometre run along a set course through Cheltenham and Mentone. Enthusiasm never came easily at pre-dawn times of the morning. Dad's coaxing was essential for me to even get out of bed, let alone complete the course.

Those warm nights in the earliest months of 1976 were an enigma to me. To my repeated disgust, each time I set out on a casual run, I was forced to stop abruptly. The cause was an incredible pounding in my temples.
"Won't be long," I remember saying to Mum, not realising how true this statement would be.
"Be careful," replied my mother.
The throbbing pain was upon me before I'd rounded the second street corner. It came in regular waves of increasing intensity forcing me into a hunch awaiting its end. I had aimed to make it to the beach.
My reaction was foolish, stemming from my basic ignorance of the cause. It is possible to overcome some aches and pains by battling on regardless. I tried to continue, hoping that the pain would not return.
Of course it always did.

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