Everything feels reassuringly familiar. It’s a warm summers day, possibly one of the hottest of the summer. The cool air of the cellar is a welcome relief. My eyes struggle to adjust to the low light down there. I have a small frog for company, sheltering from the heat in the semi darkness.
It’s a familiar routine. Large headphones on, fan blowing cool air over me, tall stool to rest my hand on for balance. I clip in, only now realising that, with the stool on my left, I will need to push off with my injured side. It’s a familiar routine, yet subtly different due to my injuries.
I push off, legs feeling the rhythm they are used to. I concentrate, my feet turning smooth circles. Slowly I lift my hand from the stool. Slowly move my hand across to rest loosely on the bars. This feels strange. I need to concentrate extra hard, willing the rest of my body to make up for the lack of strength in my left side.
My legs have a memory of cadence. My core has a memory of balance. The speed rises and my lungs even have a memory of breathing.
Sweat runs freely from me as I shed the limitations of my injuries.
Recovery is no longer just a hopeful idea, it really is possible!