Recovery Day One. Officially
Today I did something I hadn't done for 52 days. Not like I was counting or anything, but yes, I cocked my leg over a bike and turned the pedals. I managed a massive 11kms on the turbo trainer in the back garden. About a 20 minute ride. My legs barely noticed, but my lungs felt like I had just grimped up Alpe D'Huez in the big ring. Despite this poor performance I am hugely pleased and somewhat relieved that I managed that much without my back or ribs aching. I sat on my bike, spinning a low gear, grinning, no headphones on, no distractions, just listening intently to my body. In all honesty, waiting for something to give in, crack or fall off. Thankfully nothing did. It was a big leap forward considering that at the beginning of July I couldn't walk more than two steps without getting out of breath. I couldn't bend over, couldn't dress myself, was generally in a terrible state living on morphine to allow me to be able to breath in deep or cough. I fin