Discovered that getting better isn't just steady progress day after day. Had a few low, low days. Not always caused by anything. Some of them were. Sitting in an empty house, feeling very alone isn't always conducive to finding perspective either.
But, I got over them, and despite, or because of those days, I feel a bit stronger again.
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- Nice meeting with my boss. Lovely card from my colleagues. I certainly wasn't ready to go into work that day, but it has properly started to sow seeds in my mind and I can more easily visualise a route back to working.
- Returning to climbing, around 3 years since I last climbed regularly. I'm weak, I've got poor technique, but it has been fun. Had forgotten the simple pleasure of staring at a piece of rock (or climbing wall as it was) for 5 mins, trying to visualise how to reach the top.
- House beginning to feel closer to a home. Not the home that I had before, but somewhere that I don't feel on edge or alien to.
- I've started carrying a mini sketch pad with me, whenever I go out. I have very limited artistic ability, but have enjoyed doodling away over a long coffee or two when my head feels too crowded to read.
- The ongoing love and support of family and friends. Amazing.
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- Painful, horrible discussions with my girlfriend.
- The fear that the loneliness, the feeling weak won't go away. That this is my life now.
- Going into town with a list of three simple jobs. Haircut, bank, food. Feeling so confused, and scared that I had to turn round and come back home.
- No bike riding for most of the last week.
- Looking in the mirror and seeing a gangly collection of skin and bones, where well defined, lean muscle used to be. It feels like my physical state is representing my mental state.
So, this morning, I got up, and loped downstairs. Hoodie pulled over my (now quite wild - see above) hair, conserving some warmth. Bare feet on cold tiles. Moka pot primed and on the stove. Heating flicked on. Cereal eaten. Silence. Curtains opened. Frost. Winter blue skies. Pastel morning sun.
Bib longs. Thermal vest. Softshell. Merino socks. Autumn full finger gloves. Cap under helmet. CX bike (still waiting for insurance company payment to let me replace my road bike (RIP)). Click. Click. Pedals engaged. Purr of a Mavic freehub. Out of the saddle, then into a spinny gear to generate some warmth. First climb feels wonderful. Cold air catches the back of my throat. Legs feeling ever so slightly restricted as flexing knees pull at tight fitting lycra.
Turn off tarmac for the ribbon of bridleway past Golden Acre Park. Stop for a pic.
Skate over wet leaves. Frost has already retreated to the most sheltered, shady parts of trail. God, I can tell I haven't ridden for a week. The bike feels unwieldy. I'm fighting to make it go where I want it to. I'm getting bumped off line, my legs don't want to transfer power to the pedals. Frustrating.
As minutes and pedal strokes tick by, familiarity returns. Back straightens, shoulders relax, legs push. Lungs find a rhythm. I thread my way through the Emmerdale set, and through the grounds of Harewood House. I dare a smile as the bike skips around under me, and I hop and pump through dips and bumps on the trail.
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- When you live by yourself there is no one to tell you that the very muddy bike should not be in the living room.
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- It still needs a wash.
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