I think it’s this week that it’s five years on from when I went to see the Orthopaedic Surgeon in Derby for that fateful (for me at least) 90 minutes where I found out that my knee was f*cked and I would never be able to run again.
I drove 90 minutes in the wrong direction after that appointment.
And so, let’s pretend that today is the anniversary of that 5 years (it’s close enough).
I rode for 70 miles on my bike the other morning and stopped for breakfast (brunch) with my friend and coach Simon and felt strong and did some efforts during the ride and looked forward to cycling in the Outlaw triathlon with our little team ‘French Toast Mafia’ as Louis does the swim and Simon does the run.
We will not win any prizes (Louis would) but it’s always been a race against myself and never against anyone else.
5 years ago this week the surgeon told me that if I did not have a pretty experimental meniscal transplant procedure, I would need a knee replacement within 5 years.
I don’t and I won’t.
I had to give up running straight away ( I still have the last long run I ever did on Strava and I do sometimes look back at it.
But I managed the situation with my knee and rode a bike.
I asked the surgeon in the consultation if, after the surgical procedure that he’d booked for me immediately that day for the 13th of September that year, I would be able to get back to riding a bike for the level I was at.
He thought that was possible and wrote that it would be possible in the letter that he sent me.
The following year I rode to a gold medal at La Marmotte, one of the most famous sportives in the world.
I did that with one of my best friends David Nelson and the memory is so special.
The following year I did a 3 day stage race in Italy called the Haute Route Dolomites and the year after that with Alex Jones and Craig Wales and Simon McCarthy and David Nelson, we did the Haute Route Ventoux.
I write this now because as I’m writing it on Wednesday the Tour de France is climbing Ventoux.
Five years ago I got hit in the face with a plank and it stopped my ‘triathlon career’ in its tracks.
I got a bit down in myself for a little while, then we lost Tim.
After we lost him I was able to dust myself down a bit and go again.
I’m not sure at all what will happen in the next 5 years, as I was on my bike the other day I was trying to fold my stomach back into my cycling shorts which people tell me is a curse of someone close to 50 but I recon it’s just the lack of discipline.
I have some work to do ‘to kill the person I was born to be, to become the person I want to be’ and so whatever happens in the next 5 years, I will be trying to do that when I lose, fail or succeed.
The memories of how we extricated ourselves from the really difficult times, from the pit, are perhaps the ones that allow us to plan the adventures going forwards.
Blog Post Number - 2791
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