Recovery

I write this as I rest from the week long ride to Cornwall and back. 

I gained a lot from it: 

Proof of my recovery.

A good indication of where my physical limits may be.

And possibly most important to me; that I have more control over myself and how I react to life.

I am stronger mentally than I had thought.

The week before this adventure I had a telephone mental health counseling session. Beforehand I filled in a survey that would form the basis of the conversation.

It was questions I had used before previous therapies. This time I found myself surprised by my answers. I seemed to be choosing more positive responses. I wanted to be honest so ticked boxes with my first reactions.

When the therapists called it was the first thing about which she remarked. I had gone from a score indicating a very depressed person to one who had little indication of a problem.

We talked about what had happened to possibly cause such a change. I suspected it was my broken hip; let me explain. 

Looking back at the immediate aftermath I hadn't really broken down and regressed mentally as I might have expected. I was disappointed with the result of the x-rays and scans. With a bit of a big dip when told by the consultant that there could be lasting implications. 

But those feelings didn't last. I think this was partly because the day after the surgery I had a visit from a physio. He said I could get out of bed if I wanted, and using a frame move around the ward. I had some exercises to reduce the swelling and stiffness. I could do as much as I wanted. So I did; spending all of my time whilst in bed flexing my leg. The rest "walking" around the ward. I saw small improvements each day.

The next two weeks were a rollercoaster for sure; with some very dark times. I was very frustrated at the limits imposed on me. But I never gave into thoughts that I wouldn't fully recover, I just needed to work hard enough, it was down to me.

I said to my therapist that the experience had maybe taught me that I was a better, stronger person than I believed. This was helped by feedback I was getting from family, friends and my cycling club. Everyone was congratulating me on my progress, encouraging me to push on. The difference this time was my reaction to the words. In the past I would have told myself they were just platitudes; not true of me.

As I reached a new milestone those words took on my resonance, and without me realising were reinforcing my positive inner conversation.

I reduced the priority given to my negative monologue.

The discussion was so positive that we agreed that I could put future meetings on hold for now. I had the tools to recognise the start of a downward trajectory, and turn it around.

I'm not saying I am cured, but that I am better than I've been for a very long time. It's like a switch had been flicked to a new position.

We concluded that whilst crashing a bike was maybe not a recognised treatment for depression. It had had a positive outcome for me.

I keep saying this. Talking has been the deciding factor in my turnaround. 

If I hadn't done so, the outcome of my crash, and life's pressures in general could have produced a very different result.

It's why I rode to raise money for Mind. They promote talking, crucially providing resources for those who don't have the support network I am lucky to have.

Thank you to everyone involved over the last few years since I started my recovery.

It's that time again

A well deserved pint at the end of a sponsored ride.

Paris

I have blogged about my cycling and why I do it…

To keep fit, unwind and burn off the stress from daily life. 

I have also raised a lot of money for the SCMSTC. My local Multiple Sclerosis therapy centre. My wife goes there and they are the reason I started cycling again.

Back in 2005 I read a leaflet about an event the centre was running to raise money. 

A cycle ride through the Surrey and Sussex countryside. I hadn't cycled since I was a kid, a long time ago.  I thought I could manage fifteen miles. Just the small matter of not having a bike and being unfit to overcome. 

I could borrow a bike to do the ride, an exercise bike would have to do for training.  

I must confess I didn’t do much training. The exercise bike was so boring. I put it in front of a tv and played on a playstation. That helped a little. I must have done enough, the fifteen mile ride went okay.

The next year I want to do the fifty mile ride. I indefinitely borrowed a bike from my brother. He rarely rode it. And started riding it at the weekends. But I still wasn’t doing many miles. Then a curry with a few friends involved a chat with one of them about his recent return to cycling. We both had trouble motivating ourselves to ride regularly. So we decided to team up. And so started what is now a decade of riding at the weekend. And more sponsored cycles.

It also led to some more memorable rides. Three of us cycling from London to Paris. Unassisted; we organised the route, ferries and accommodation. And we carried our own luggage. 

A group off us cycled the South Downs Way. Two days of thick mud.

And two RideLondon rides.

The longer rides also give me a great sense of achievement when completed. Something I don’t always get from everyday life. Once you get to a certain level of fitness the longer rides are achievable physically. But mentally it’s harder. Your mind tells you to stop way before your body needs to. Pushing past these imaginary barriers is what gets you to the end, and is very satisfying. 

Now after a break of two years I’m back to sponsored cycling.

I’m cycling from Caterham to Canterbury. Not a very long way, only 66 miles. But still a challenge over the rolling Surrey and Kent hills.

I've got a lot to thank the therapy centre for, easily enough to justify the exertion of the sponsored rides.

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