Rode to Recovery

My regular readers know all too well about the hole incident. The whole, hole incident.

To recap, I fell down one.

It was a daft accident, perhaps avoidable had I not been looking up rather than down, wearing stouter, grippier footwear or generally paying more attention to a unique set of surroundings in terms of terrain and surface finishes.

The upshot was that I was non-weight bearing on the injured leg for some 12 weeks and unable to get back to work for about 20 weeks.

There followed a round of regular physiotherapy and I was only signed off from my intensive programme in February this year, almost 12 months on from the inci/acci- dent.

During all of that missed year and more of impaired mobility I had one main incentive or target.

My sport for much of my adult years has been cycling. I had a few years in amateur competition but am no more happy than just being on a bike.

The unfortunate falling into that hole caused considerable injury to my right leg to the extent that the quad tendon snapped and had to be surgically re-attached. The quad is the main muscle that gives power and strength and so in its compromised state, even after a skilled re-attachment, it was certainly going to be a long rehabilitation to get it to function as it should.

To add insult to the injury the very day before the tumble I had taken delivery of a brand new road bike, a Bianchi in the classic green paintwork of that illustrious Italian brand.

I can report that in my 12 months lay-off the finance for its purchase has been paid off even though it has sat in the garage, pedal-less for that time.

So, that target?  well, it was to be able to ride out with my son to see some of the 2018 Tour de Yorkshire Stage Race which was from May 3rd. This years 4 stage race included two stages on our doorstep and so my recovery plan was put into place.

There is quite a lot of comedy value in a grown man trying to cock a leg over the crossbar of a bicycle whilst being assisted by another. That was just for starters to see if I could actually sit astride a stationary bike. It is an altogether more disturbing scene where the same actions are carried out from a wicker stool and onto an elevated static bike.

That was my main route to recovery- using my son's trainer bike to just try to spin the pedals around.

In the hospital physio gym I had not been able to do a full 360 degree revolution, rather a forward and back motion, without pain and discomfort to the leg. After a bit of adjustment to the static bike, in my garage, I managed to get the leg to turn fully.

I was now on my way.

Trouble is, the pedalling of a static trainer is just about the most boring activity ever. Yes, you can have a bit of motivational music, watch a film on a laptop balanced in an upturned Christmas Tree stand on top on a plush dralon pouffe and upholstered bedside chair, or just chat to anyone who has the time to spare for such things but there is no relief for the ultimate monotony and tediousness of just pedalling and not getting anywhere.

It is a matter of debate in the family whether I have, once or twice, just fallen asleep at the two wheels and nearly jeopardised my recovery to date by a potential wobble and fall.

My best effort at regaining motion and fitness in that mode has been, to date, about one hour continuous and that was greatly assisted by a viewing on the small screen of Monty Python's Holy Grail.

In readiness for my return to the road to see the Tour de Yorkshire I played a Google View film of Stage 1 from Beverley to Doncaster. This was my initial target for an actual ride out and I thought that seeing the route beforehand would help me to visualise what was to come. If I tell you that the film of the 185km route lasted only 33 minutes you can appreciate that my laboured pedalling was actually at the equivalent of 180 miles per hour average speed. The towns and villages en route fair flew by in rapid succession.

That gave me a false sense indeed of my velocity and strength.

The actual race day approached rapidly and I prepared for my first ride in over a year.

The plan was to park the car about a mile or so from the course and then ride in to meet up with my son on the roadside. My Bianchi road bike was still not rideable in my state of mobility and so I opted for my mountain bike, incidentally of the same Italian maker. It is more upright, with a low slung crossbar and can be pedalled in normal training shoes rather than cleated race wear.

That first push down on the pedal was quite emotional for me.

I was actually back on the bike after a seemingly endless absence.

About half a mile into the ride a motorist pulled out in front of me at a junction.

I gave the usual hand signal of disapproval and he more graphically returned the gesture.

Yes, I was again a cyclist. It was great.