Riding Solo

I was out in the traffic two times with friends before I attempted it on my own. Sunday pedaling with fewer buses and trucks. On the flat in good weather. My friend behind and slightly out to the right. It was relatively easy. My hands shook a bit the first time a lorry went past. And my foot hurt when I took off at junctions. Not helped by having clip in pedals which I couldn't clip into. Ironically the main hazards were dogs and small people on bikes (COME HERE MORGAN - BAD DOG BAD DOG, WATCH THE LADY ON THE BIKE...). And of course the fear of a puncture - I can cycle an awful lot further than I can walk.... But in general, I enjoyed it. Out in the fresh air. Free at last.

So today, with no friend available, I went on my own. Down the Promenade (illegally) and then onto the main road to Musselburgh. In the cycle lane (where numerous cars were frustratingly parked) and through a major junction. And although the traffic was relatively quiet, this was much harder than cycling with a friend. I was afraid. Heart pounding. Hands trembling on the bars. Not helped by the idiot who opened a car door as I came past - missing my by a whisker. I stopped, shouted and he apologised. He didn't know my circumstances of course. But its no excuse - particularly as the car in question was parked facing me. Are all of us on two wheels actually invisible?

Home safe I'd managed around 7 miles. In theory this means that I can manage the distance to my work. But the work route is end to end lorry. With horrible junctions. And a badly surfaced road. Which is not ideal for a 7 kilo road bike with a bag of nerves on top. And given that there's another operation coming up which will mean no more cycling for a while, it will be quite some time before I'm a safe and confident cycle commuter....

Operation No. 5 (preparation)

Well, it seems I was getting a bit ahead of myself. Advice from my Physio is to hang onto the stick for a bit longer. Not to overdo it. Go easy on the crossramp in the gym. Oh and by the way - "take the crutches to Operation Number 5 because you'll need them afterwards for a while..."

If I had thought about it long enough I might have come to this conclusion myself. When the tension wires are removed, they will leave tiny holes in the bone. And those holes will have to heal. And the healing will take around ten weeks. No physio for ten days after the operation. Which means a set back on the muscle strengthening. Which may mean that my knee starts playing up again. Which means problems on the bike (just when I had finally worked up the courage to cycle on the road - in the traffic). I even have to postpone my plastic surgery clinic - impractically scheduled five days after the operation (at a hospital 30 miles away). Etc Etc Etc My consultant never mentioned any of this. Said it was a simple process. Day surgery only. And I only planned to take a couple of days off work.

The pre-op clinic is next week. Quite why I have to attend this (and take yet another half day off work) is beyond me - I've been in that hospital so many times that I'm on first name terms with most of the Department. But heh - a girl has to cooperate...

In the meantime, my lawyer has served a summons on the lorry driver and his employer. I haven't had the heart, or the nerve, to read it yet. And with that documentation - a form explaining that my employment contract includes a clause which requires me to pay back my sick pay if I receive compensation. Its a funny old world.

Independent Traveller

On Friday I went to work by bus - on my own - and walked around a kilometre in total between work, bus stops and home. Sometimes I used my stick. And sometimes I did not. I think this makes me an independent traveller.... The end of taxi chits in nigh.

Almost stickless

A week on from the Scotmid adventure and I am becoming quite bold. A slow but sure circuit of the block (800m?). Stalking the corridors of power at work. All the way to the bus stop on the way to Physio. And each time the pain is a bit less, and my step a bit more confident. But I still feel woozy at times. A strange sort of sea sicknesses. Its been quite some time since I walked properly - without thinking carefully about each step.

My Physio dictates some new exercises. Trying to stop my foot collapsing inwards. Another small thing stuffed into my shoe. And I have to start jumping. Every second day. Twenty jumps. This, not surprisingly, hurts. Meanwhile on the wobble board I am starting to feel more balanced. Thirty seconds is the test. And I'm almost there. But I still attend the hospital twice a week. And that next operation is looming...

Back on my bike on the Prom my knee complains habitually but I feel ready to tackle the road. And the traffic. This may be a false confidence. Brought on by the sudden stickless freedom. And the relentless boredom of pedaling slowly up and down the same route day after day. And I'm weak as a weak thing. With a certain reluctance for emergency stops. And no way of returning in the event of an unfortunate break down. But I've set my heart on a ride to Musselburgh. Which is absolutely nothing to do with the safety of the route - and everything to do with ice cream.