le vingtieme etape...ou le dix-neufieme.......apres les montagnes....

A strange topic for this post....
I have managed to cope with my enforced situation, of recovery since my cycling injury, by acting as if or pretending that i am en route to success at a Tour de France. I know that I'm being stupid, but have often taken quotes or expressions of cyclists' mentality, using them to help come to terms with troubles in life. When one of my all-time heroes faced Interviews after a positive drugs test, David Millar used the simple phrase that "shit happens". This obviously struck a chord with me, I remembered hearing before my accident, and used his statement a lot when faced with many questions from friends and family after waking from my coma in hospital. I kept thinking that I was fortunate enough that everyone would remember being a friend of a 'pre-accident Patrick', and I knew that although affected physically, my mind/mental thought process, was still in tact (of which i am very lucky).
Regarding my Tour de France, the dangerous flatlands of northern France are when I am asleep/comatosed. I enter the Pyrenees (anti-clockwise Tour), during my important initial recovery period in hospital (my time at the RHN in Putney). The Tour cannot be won, but lost in its first mountains. The transition from hospital into rehab homes equates to 'transitional stages' in between Pyrenees and Alps. The 'alpine' period of my recovery, was the big, main part, in which i spent three years in a Thames Ditton located, rehab home. Vital things can be learnt, and time gained, visiting iconic places and creating some unforgettable memories. Now, I have left the rehab home, surviving independantly, but with my vital team-mates (my PAs, friends and family) protecting/guiding me on the way to Paris. They have been with me all of the way, supporting me whenever possible. Cyclists and fans will know that I still face the final time-trial test, and my 8-laps of the Champs Elysees (I think it's eight) on my path to victory. I leave my 'learning to walk' stage as my final test, final time-trial it is. A tough test for myself as I have always been more suited to climbing than time-trialling. My Tour is of course yet from won.

Very nice, but not realistic by any means. I know that my recovery is  a lifelong journey, not a three-week sport in July. There is no end. No ultimate victory, or, essentially, defeat. Just a long slog. Like cycling, no losers. A lot of hard effort being produced along the route, in order to bring success.