Having moved my website to something better to present the photos, the one thing I missed was the chance to put some words along side them, but now I have the chance again so thought I would revisit the archive, even if not many people read it, I enjoy writing it.
Given my current physical condition yet again trying to recover from an injury I thought I would revisit one particularly pertinent post.
Everyone has their hobbies, the activities they fill their free time with, however much or little of it they have. Its those things that make them happy just by doing them or by doing them it transports them to a place that makes them happy.
Previously i have written about one of my happy places that luckily for me combines the two, a beautiful place, Valkenburg, in the Limburg region of the Netherlands just outside Maastricht but also fun roads to ride. The area is steeped in cycling history thanks to the route of the Amstel Gold race the name is often in the shadow of the Cauberg which provides the uphill finale. For me the name sunk in as the host of the 2012 world championships which established the legacy of the finishing circuit that I have ridden many times since. Leaving the bustling streets of Maastricht behind it provides a quiet loop with some beautiful ups and some fast downs through some country side with the tarmac giving a greater priority to bike and not the car.
Getting there required two things that i couldn’t do at the time, driving and cycling, ignoring the fact I also couldn’t walk without crutches or even put weight on both legs either.
Being able to go abroad is a privilege and although there are plenty of local roads that have more than enough appeal the attitude towards bikes is worlds apart, despite more than a few miles clocked up I still get confused at roundabouts where the bikes have the priority over cars and drivers respect it.
If i was constrained to the UK, the one place that springs instantly to mind is the Mendips, despite the distinct lack of flat roads there was something magical about Cheddar Gorge, the ride up, the ride down, soaking in the history those rocks have seen. It reminded me of a favourite Terry Pratchett book that was set in a valley that I imagined was much like Cheddar. Mostly though, it was probably the sheep and goats that kept me doing loops round it. The comedy value of those animal not giving two shits about anything going on around them and watching with amusement as cars halted and navigated around them
Cheddar Gorge
Exercise addiction, to some degree, is not the worst thing to suffer from because in general it should keep you fit, healthy and active which can't be a bad thing. Although when injury or sickness strikes, whether it be a sniffle or something more serious like my shattered pelvis, the urge to exercise is hard to temper. Through many years and many miles I have pushed on occasionally or tried to get back to it as quickly as possible. Never have I come close to the heroics of some professional cyclists. Tyler Hamilton grinding his teeth down while riding a Tour De France stage with a fractured collar bone. Probably more appropriately is Geraint Thomas jumping back on his bike after a crash only for a post stage X-ray to show a small pelvic fracture (he continued and finished that tour almost 2 weeks of riding later).
There was definitely a few mins post crash where I thought I was going to shake it off, jump back on the bike and ride home. Thinking back I really don’t remember any pain but I do remember an almost disembodied feeling of the leg not working which dispelled that thought and it wasn’t long before acceptance set in.
The first 8 days post crash didn’t exactly sail by, the distractions of blood transfusions and friends visiting helped but recovering sufficiently to be let home was the only goal. This focused the mind, rather than think about the next 12 weeks and what that might entail.
When you’re injured or ill to the point you can’t ride just getting back on a bike would be enough, not too far, not too fast just that simple pleasure of being outside and pedalling your way to peace and quiet, feeling sun on your face and the fresh air in your lungs.
Recovering from that accident was tough, 7 weeks not even touching a bike, and those first few one legged rides barely more than a few minutes and 5 months before I finally felt safe enough outside, and using the bike as a literal crutch.
So with that experience filed away in the “shit I survived” drawer I thought the next time it came around it would be ok but as it turns out I wasn’t quite ready for it.
Once I had finally gotten the operation out the way, which was mostly sitting down watching TV I thought I would be getting back at it pretty quickly, that turned out not to be the case.
Several months and quite a few set backs later I’m still slightly out in front, but honestly only just, ask me on the wrong day and I might try and sell you some bike gear.
Its at those points I realise how much of my life is filled with cycling, drawers of clothing, photos on the wall...bikes in the house, not relegated to a shed or garage, it means a constant reminder of something you can’t do. Its amazing how immersive it can be, people often talk about how social media is an echo chamber, it means that feed is a constant barrage of cycling.
I’m hoping at this point I get to feel immense gratitude for managing to get back to fitness and enjoying racing my bike again, but on some days it feels like a coin toss one side is gratitude, the other side there is no gratitude at all.
.. but as they say hope for the best and prepare for the worst