My wonderful Mother has been looking after my boys for me. They have had a lovely little holiday with Nanny and Granddad since last Wednesday and are being returned to me this evening, having had an inset day today.
We had such plans, my boyfriend and I! On Thursday evening we could go to the club Turbo Trainer session together; Friday evening we could go out for a meal; there was a running workshop on Saturday morning; we could swim together Saturday afternoon; Sunday would be devoted to the club bike ride in the morning and recovering from it in the afternoon.
Thursday morning came with a crick in the neck. The most painful one I’ve ever had. I made it to work and spent the day fielding pitying looks from my boss every time I turned my head and gasped out in pain. I didn’t manage the full day, leaving early to take the bus to my Chiropractor and beg for an earlier appointment than the after work one I’d booked.
The Turbo session was not far from the Chiropractor so my boyfriend picked my up with a car full of cycling equipment but it was clear at this point that mine would remain unused, having been advised that my position on a bike would have me back at the Chiropractor sooner than I’d like. Turbo Training is not a spectator sport.
Friday came with a slight reduction to the screaming pain. The work day was a blur but I remember all too many details of running to catch the train into town. Dinner with my brother; his girlfriend and my boyfriend was facilitated by my new best friend, Ibuprofen gel, in association with systemic ibuprofen and paracetamol. The main topic of conversation was sports injuries.
Saturday just didn’t happen. We slept in very late, having woken briefly, decided the running workshop wasn’t happening, texting my apologies and falling asleep again. Swimming was replaced with a haircut and some gentle shopping and the run planned by my boyfriend to compensate for the other lost activities became a movie.
On Sunday the inactivity became too much for him so my boyfriend went out on the club ride without me (after checking that I was ok with it). Honestly, having looked at the route on Runkeeper afterwards, I’m not sure I could have managed it at my peak of fitness (duathlon time) last September. I walked to the shops as we were low on coffee.
So this morning I was determined. I could climb out of bed with relatively little pain so I kitted up in Lycra, coated the back of my neck (and the collar of my top) with ibuprofen gel and clipped in. The sun was out, the wind was fresh and I wasn’t running late. It’s not my fastest ride in but I’m sitting here at lunchtime sporting a sense of achievement and a barnet reminiscent of Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday. I shall ride home again this evening, welcome my boys back and try to work out how wise it is to go swimming with the club.