I gathered a crowd at Praed St way back when. I was blowing into the huge old iron framed puffy thing with the circular disc of paper and a pen. I got the nib very near the edge. Time and again they bid me blow as hard as I could. Always, it just missed tilting over the edge. It became obvious they were trying to witness the first person to ever blow the nib off the scale. They seemed quite disappointed when I couldn't.
The point is, I had terrible childhood asthma. My poor old mum used to stagger into my room, give me ephedrine, and hold my hand until I was zonked out cold. I recall the strange feeling in the mornings after the event.
Always the attacks were timed to about half an hour or so. Then they'd just go. Darn nuisance. Running for a bus could leave me heaving for air for much of the journey. More correctly, heaving to expel the air.
I was a nerd. Excused most sports and allowed to hang around in the science room. Then everything changed. I just grew out of it.
Rowing for hours in strong tidal backwaters (because I was too dim to check tides), climbing trees, judo, which I practised for many years. I took up smoking cigars and pipe. Ugggggg! Can't believe it now. But nare a wheeze.
I wouldn't recommend smoking, but I would recommend feeling positive about saying goodbye to the spasms. Train the mind to think smoke, or cold air, or any fumes you can't avoid, are good. Lovely exhaust smoke! Let the mind know how harmless it is. Deep breathing during running/walking - and I mean deep, squishing every gram of air out to allow clean air into the deepest reaches. Bugs don't like fresh air. But it's the mind that rules.