March 20th, 2005
Compromise
AAAAARGH.
Sunny Sunday and under doctors orders not to ride.
Two weeks of not riding is really starting to erk me now.
So on Sunday I went out on “the big fella” (stable name, Jad) in an effort to enjoy myself. Didn’t work. Walk and trot were just too boring. Canter was too flippin’ terrifying. Jumping, even something only 2 foot tall, was no fun either.
I am definitely slowing down. Anything fast terrifies me. I anticipate each and every thing that can go wrong and tense up. This is not when good sat on three-quarters ton of animal who’s psychotic at the best of times*. Still, he was a good boy, this time, and I lived.
I didn’t have fun though.
I got off, hung up all tack, and stropped at my wife about how miserable I was.
I figure that if I’m ill enough to be off the bike then I’m ill enough for the NHS to get their act together and do their tests on me now. Otherwise they’ll be doing an ECG and echocardiogram this time next year and wondering what the fuss is all about.
“No it all looks normal”.
“What about those tests you took last year when I was in A&E with symptoms?”
I shall deliver the words “with symptoms” in appropriately sarcastic tone.
“Oh we threw them away. We didn’t send them to your doctor in case she had something to go on instead of speculating from the very start”.
In the meantime I’ll have wasted a year and gone stark staring bonkers from not being able to ride.
Mr Doctor, I’ll compromise. I’m going to ride. If it starts to hurt I’ll slow down. But I won’t stop. You have to consider my mental health as well as my physical.
So yesterday, I went home, got out a bike with full suspension and gears and, ooh, everything, and went and rode down steps and to some jumps and through some wooded uphill singletrack, and finally back home. Just like that. All in one long no pauses for breath sentence.
I didn’t drop dead or anything.
And I was smiling.
*food intolerance. No, really. Feed him carrots and see him become unrideable. Think kid on E-numbers, only 8 feet tall, a top speed of 30mph, and a buck like, well, nothing bucks like this one.
![[Valid RSS]](http://32sixteen.com/wp-content/themes/three_column/images/valid-rss.png "Validate my RSS feed")
del.icio.us