It’s now 5 weeks post-accident and things are getting back to normal. I got out on the dirt on Saturday for the first time, albeit only on the fireroads. It’s pretty difficult riding past a trail-head when you know single track heaven is RIGHT THERE! My body will thank me later though I hope. I’ve timed my transition from the windtrainer to the road almost to perfection with only brief showers instead of torrential downpours now.
The psychological wounds are being unpicked with my first ride past ‘the corner’ where it all went wrong. I rode up to it, slowly, willing myself to get past it without collapsing in a heap and rocking back and forwards in the garden. Just as I approached it a group of about 30 cyclists came around the corner from the opposite direction, spread out across the path inviting another accident. KEEP LEFT PEOPLE! It’s bad enough the motorists try and pick us off without us preying on our own kind.
The official recovery was made this morning when I headed out for some Mt Cootha reps. Did someone make it steeper while I’ve been laid up? It was good to be on the familiar stretch of road that is the staple of any Brisbane cyclist. They were doing roadworks so I got stopped by a lollipop-man on the way up. I protested that I was “in the middle of an effort” to a guy that clearly had no idea what I was on about. Yep, I’m back.
It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.
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