Injury has kept me off the bike for the better part of three months now: my thighs have all but disappeared and my buns have gone from taut to barge-arse. It's been somewhat dispiriting but I've been good (well, OK maybe I could have been doing at bit more stretching) and recovery was slowly happening.
Tentative steps
About three weeks ago I took a couple of gentle weekend rides, with only a few slight clicks and creaks coming from the recovering knee. SuperGran said that I'd probably be very aware of anything odd going on down there for a while and that it was probably nothing to worry about. She's a wise lady is SuperGran.
I might have struck out for work that week, but I wanted to test it one or two more times. A few busy weekends passed without the chance to get out for another spin. Then for some reason I was extra grumpy yesterday morning, so MLSP just about threw me out of the house telling me to get on the bike and not come back until I could be cheerful.
So off I went, along my usual commute route. Barely the fainest pang or crick was felt in the left knee. Everything was going OK, so I continued along to tackle my nemesis: the little roller coaster dip under MacRobertsons Bridge. This is where it all fell apart last time.
I cruised through with considerably more glee than would be normal and healthy in someone reaching the top of such a pathetically small incline. But when you're in recovery mode, you take 'em where you can get 'em. I was pleased to find that I did it much easier than the kid and his dad who were following along behind me—it looked like it nearly killed them.
That was enough, so I turned around and headed for home—cheerful would be an understatement.
Caution to the wind
No more excuses then—this meant I was fit enough to have another go at getting in to work.
Having missed most of winter, I did feel like a bit of a slacker as I blundered around the house this morning trying to find stray gloves and the other bits and pieces I needed to tackle the chilly conditions. When I'm in my commuting routine, I find that Monday mornings tend to involve retrieving bike gear from wherever the hell it's become disperesed over the weekend. Today that was multiplied by three months of dispersal. Not unexpectedly, I complete failed to make an early start.
Eventually I was away. Every little hill was a test, as I anxiously waited for something to go "twang" and pain to return.
It didn't.
I made it.
And my goodness, it's a beautiful day, isn't it? (If you were on the Gardiners Creek or Yarra Trails this morning and some grinning idiot burbled "Hello" at you, that was probably me.)
It was a slow ride and I was spectacularly late to the salt mine, but I didn't care: the "Theme from Rocky" was playing in my head as I walked in the door.
Now, I just need to decide whether I should ride home tonight, or should I follow MLSP's advice to take it easy and catch the train…
Thanks Tom. I feel like a little kid again!
Nice one.. I'll look out for a grinning idiot on the commute... :P
OK HG—I'll give you a wave.
Well done you! Good to hear you're back in the saddle again!
Thanks Dave—and I'd like to think that the saddle is glad to have me in it again…
Comments
congratulations !! good to hear your knee held up ! cheers, tom