Shirley Rides Again
TIME TO TAKE SHIRLEY OUT AGAIN
It's great to get my trusty old Fatbike 'Shirley' out of the garage and get back on the road again. She has been in the garage since August 2017 due to my treatment and being advised not to cycle as the saddle stimulated the prostate which in turn could alter the PSA blood test and produce a false reading. The medical team also advised that while going through my radiotherapy, I should refrain from cycling until at least three weeks after the treatment has stopped. It is now three weeks after my radiotherapy. I still experience some side effects but I now feel that it is time to start some form of fitness regime again. I have always enjoyed cycling. It is one of those sports where you have the capability to go almost anywhere, stop anywhere and feel free. It is also a great way to keep fit and has a low impact on ageing joints and muscles.
My Very First run: January 31st, 10.30am, 2018.
Over eleven kilometres and boy was it tough. Cycling in a freezing cold January and against a strong, twenty odd mph wind might not have been the perfect day to return to cycling but the notion was there and I cannot let a notion drop. Not the best of habits to fall into.
Anyway, Off we go into the great unknown. Tyres checked. Gears checked. Brakes checked. Route checked. BODY checked! Little did I know that the first two kilometres almost had me turning back. Wow, the old heart rate going ten to the hundred and then some and my old leg muscles feeling like a mix of custard and jelly.
My once taught stomach muscles began tensing up beneath the slight layer of fat gathered around my midrift, accumulated during a year of both mental and physical turmoil or in other words, doing next to nothing but worry. My first few kilometres felt like I had stepped off an Alton Towers roller coaster after a fish supper and a load of Guinness. Not pleasant. While tackling 'fire station hill', a steep road I once took in my stride, felt like I was climbing the North Face of Everest. I have to admit that I had to get off the bike for a breather something I have never done before. At this point I felt really embarrassed.
I began looking around me at the cars passing and this young lady with a pram going up the same hill with relative ease glancing over with a smirk at my inadequacy. In my head I wanted to shout over 'I have bloody cancer.' At this point, my pride was taking a fair old bashing. It was then I realised how my fitness levels had deteriorated over the last year. Okey, I am sixty three and fitness levels will tend to drop but I do consider myself a fit sixty three. It was then that I realised how much the therapies had taken out of my system and for someone my age it would take a bigger effort to achieve what I once took for granted.
To begin with, I lacked confidence attempting this run. It took me a few days previous and strong encouragement from my wife to pluck up the courage and get back on that bike. Also, I did not know what effect sitting on a saddle for over an hour would have on my bottom. You see, for the past four weeks the radiotherapy left my bottom really raw and I still had that problem with my knee. I had been receiving physiotherapy for a torn meniscus and religiously working out with these elastic bands to build up my muscle strength but the physiotherapy for my knee appeared to be working and I needed an excuse to road test the knee and this was it, two birds with one stone.
I also had to buy one of those weird looking, jelly packed, padded saddles you attach to your cycling seat to help ease the seating accommodation. When I first sat on the saddle it was like sitting on a cushion of air. A tea cosy for the bum. But after a few kilometres, the thighs and bottom cheeks started to numb and my rectum felt like it had been set on fire. The knee twitched and began to stiffen but, I was really surprised that I could complete the short route without any further injury to my knee or to my bum.
Where did I get the will power to complete this run? Who knows. But somehow we humans find the necessary resources we never, ever thought we had. I know it took me a few days to build up the confidence for this cycle and even though Shirley was in hibernation, she looked ready for the Tour de France. Just wheeling her out of the garage to me was like launching the Queen Elizabeth into the Clyde.
I recall the last few hundred yards where I could barely see the rusty old house gates of my house coming closer. At that stage, I was digging deep into my coal bunker, fuelling up my tired lungs and heart. I could feel them growling away like a Tennessee jack pump churning away in the middle of a prairie.
Coming close to the last few yards, those rusty old gates looked like the winners podium at a Formula one racing event. Then, I began to hear the haunting synthesisers of the chariots of fire theme bellowing away in my imagination.
The finishing tape was there for the breaking. The olympic crowd were going mad waving good luck banners while the ticker tape was flying. I could taste the champagne. Just a few more peddles. Come on son...Keep going...Push it...Push it... Yessssss!
I made it and eventually came to a triumphant halt. I dragged my tired right leg over the saddle, almost dropping my precious Shirley. I doubled over holding on to her handle bars while gasping for air. As I looked down on the asphalt floor with sweat dripping from my face, the reality began to set in. No calamities. No major injuries. Except. The fictitious crowd had disappeared. The ticker tape all blown away. The podium melted into thin air. The papparazi were gone. I look around me and realised that it was all in my head, a fantasy. I was all alone. That empty silence was scary. Nobody was there to record my first attempt at regaining fitness again. Just me. This was my own personal triumph and I knew it was a major step in retrieving the old Eddy again.
Two years ago, I could cycle 40-50 miles, no problem. Sometimes stopping off to busk for cancer. Since being diagnosed and receiving hormone treatment my fitness levels dropped dramatically. This had a massive effect on not only my physical prowess but my mental state. Now, my aim is to return to that period and regain that level of participation. So, its time to put Shirley back into bed for a well earned rest. Time for me to shower even though the thought of that hot water trickling between my thighs and raw buttocks sends shivers through my body, I realise that this is nothing compared to what I have already been through and what others are going through.
We are all responsible for our own happiness and we all have the power to live our own happiness. Some of us make it happen, some of us don't, some of us attempt, some of us hesitate but its good to know that we all have that option. This cycle ride might not mean much to others but I took the responsibility and it made me happy.