I'd been plotting it for a while. Waiting til my knee stopped twinging. Testing my nerves on the train trip. Finding a place with no trucks. Borrowing a bike from a colleague. Hobbling down to the office car park at lunch time. A sea of cars. Bright sun. A mountain bike with slick tyres, SPD pedals and several inches too small. Wrong shoes. Rolled up right trouser leg. Skin graft exposed. Put down the sticks. Climb onto the bike. And I'm off. Shaking hands. Looking for trucks. Leg and ankle fine. No pain. No trucks. Racing heart. Do a few circuits. My colleague as a witness. Smiling. Still the racing heart. Dare not change gear for fear of falling. And cruise to gentle stop. Safe.
Back in the office my momentous moment goes largely unnoticed. Sit back down at the computer. And carry on. Friday afternoon. Too much to do. And too many days to count - but its nearly eight months. Only 100 metres pedalled. But every pedal counts. Today the car park. Next week the Prom. After that, a new bike of my own. Meanwhile my foot hurt so badly that I passed up the physio. An uncomfortable reminder that there's still rather a long way to go.
Back in the office my momentous moment goes largely unnoticed. Sit back down at the computer. And carry on. Friday afternoon. Too much to do. And too many days to count - but its nearly eight months. Only 100 metres pedalled. But every pedal counts. Today the car park. Next week the Prom. After that, a new bike of my own. Meanwhile my foot hurt so badly that I passed up the physio. An uncomfortable reminder that there's still rather a long way to go.
No comments:
Post a Comment