Smiling at my driver, I headed for the front seat of the taxi.
‘Not today, Pat,’ my driver interrupted. ‘I’m transporting medical equipment in the front, so you’ll have to hop in the back.’
‘No worries,’ I smiled.
I usually preferred sitting up front and having a chat with the taxi driver.
As we rolled onto the Autobahn heading towards Frankfurt Airport, I leant back in my seat intent on enjoying an hour of peace, before all the chaos of passport control.
It was 2018 and I was a nutritionist, and often flew back and forth to Germany to work with different health clinics and cancer patients.
Between my work and other career as a powerlifter, I felt like I was always jetting off to different countries.
I loved my work, but powerlifting was
