Well - its been a bit of a year - what with splitting up with my partner and being run over by a truck - but more positively - the two week cycle through Spain with Julian and the solo month in Cuba pedaling and studying Spanish were trips that many people could only dream of. And what better way to see it out than an hour at the Royal Infirmary Physio dept - with yet more exercises added in - and a further three physio sessions at home - just for 'fun'.
Today I couldn't resist - and pushed the physiotherapist for answers - which of course she couldn't provide. How long might it be, I asked, before I could get back into my flat. She had seen my notes she said - the injury is serious - and we don't know how long its going to take. She talked about 'furniture walking', the use of one stick, semi weight bearing. Strangely she mentioned cycling - that could help get you round (in the future) she said, instead of walking - less stress on the leg. I was lucky she said - being a cyclist. Hadn't occurred to me of course - particularly as every time I see a cyclist on the road now I feel their vulnerability - wonder how they have the courage to be out on the road on a winter evening - wince as we overtake them - no matter how safe they actually are.
And then we got onto the subject of Chris Hoy - and his knighthood - and his three gold medals - and what he represents - for Scotland - for sport - for common decency - and of course for every single one of us that cycles just for the sheer pleasure of being out in the elements, wind in the hair, hurtling down hills, sweating up them, self propelled, independent, just a little bit righteous, and more than a little anarchic.
But all that seems a long way off - because now my days are filled with discomfort and frustration - and keeping chipper is difficult, despite the enormous support I get from professionals and pals. How do other people do it, summon up the mental energy to get out of bed every day, doing exercises where the gain can be measured only in millimetres? What stops them just lying down and giving up? I puzzle over this often, having far too much time to think about it. Why do I get up in the morning? Is it simply biological - an inate need to do everything possible to heal? Perhaps that explains part of it - but I think its more complex - also to: please my family, demonstrate to my physio that I'm worth her effort, show my consultants that their work wasn't in vain, live up to the expectations of my friends who keep telling me I'm determined enough and strong enough to do this - and for myself - not to fail, especially not to fail.
My horribly wrecked bike, a precious little blue moulton recognised by half the cycling community of Edinburgh, is in the shed outside. We are waiting for the insurance assessors to come and inspect it. I havent had the courage to look at it yet. I guess my new year's resolution has to be to crack on with this sodding physio - replace that bike - and somehow get back on the pedals to bounce over Edinburgh's cobbles with the wind in my hair, and a victorious wave for the throngs of people both within and outside the NHS who made it possible....
Today I couldn't resist - and pushed the physiotherapist for answers - which of course she couldn't provide. How long might it be, I asked, before I could get back into my flat. She had seen my notes she said - the injury is serious - and we don't know how long its going to take. She talked about 'furniture walking', the use of one stick, semi weight bearing. Strangely she mentioned cycling - that could help get you round (in the future) she said, instead of walking - less stress on the leg. I was lucky she said - being a cyclist. Hadn't occurred to me of course - particularly as every time I see a cyclist on the road now I feel their vulnerability - wonder how they have the courage to be out on the road on a winter evening - wince as we overtake them - no matter how safe they actually are.
And then we got onto the subject of Chris Hoy - and his knighthood - and his three gold medals - and what he represents - for Scotland - for sport - for common decency - and of course for every single one of us that cycles just for the sheer pleasure of being out in the elements, wind in the hair, hurtling down hills, sweating up them, self propelled, independent, just a little bit righteous, and more than a little anarchic.
But all that seems a long way off - because now my days are filled with discomfort and frustration - and keeping chipper is difficult, despite the enormous support I get from professionals and pals. How do other people do it, summon up the mental energy to get out of bed every day, doing exercises where the gain can be measured only in millimetres? What stops them just lying down and giving up? I puzzle over this often, having far too much time to think about it. Why do I get up in the morning? Is it simply biological - an inate need to do everything possible to heal? Perhaps that explains part of it - but I think its more complex - also to: please my family, demonstrate to my physio that I'm worth her effort, show my consultants that their work wasn't in vain, live up to the expectations of my friends who keep telling me I'm determined enough and strong enough to do this - and for myself - not to fail, especially not to fail.
My horribly wrecked bike, a precious little blue moulton recognised by half the cycling community of Edinburgh, is in the shed outside. We are waiting for the insurance assessors to come and inspect it. I havent had the courage to look at it yet. I guess my new year's resolution has to be to crack on with this sodding physio - replace that bike - and somehow get back on the pedals to bounce over Edinburgh's cobbles with the wind in my hair, and a victorious wave for the throngs of people both within and outside the NHS who made it possible....
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