Last night over cocktails somewhere, sandwiched between the conversation about creeping menopause and questions about how my flat is coming along there was the cycling conversation. The group as a whole are split, two of my friends, both doctors are really interested in how I’m getting along and if it’s actual physical improvement or my stubborn streak forcing me to get through the pain I feel. If ten is being hit by a car and getting smashed in, then some days it really is a stabbing seven.

A few weeks ago at the start of the no ride period because of my ankle I went out for a cheeky spin, half way up Sawyer’s Hill I flip up the gears and go to get out of the saddle and my back pops, I rather gracelessly fall off my bike onto the grass still clipped in because the pain is so great I couldn’t move for a second.

A few people stopped to see if things were ok which resulted in the woman calling the ambulance that would eventually get me to Kingston Hospital. Of the two chaps that stopped one offered to remove my shoe and I had the shocking thought that I might have a hole in the heal of my sock, I suggested that he pop the Boa and if he could turn off my Garmin.

Getting home to some diazepam and amitriptyline which I have laying around because they’re part of the pain relief bundle that I’ve been prescribed but I don’t use unless I’m truly desperate  because those things are quite addictive and I’d rather smoke weed to manage it as an when but sometimes only the monster pills will do.

I’m pretty sure in my ignorance that this is just a matter of physical conditioning and realistically I shouldn’t be riding because of my ankle and physical therapy and even having the sneaky ride both my legs and lower back have improved overall it’s just a bit painful right now while I adjust.

I’m really thankful for the people that stopped to help.


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