I return, more calm, less irritated by my work, focussed on the job ahead. A VERY strong black coffee accompanies (I was easily sold their strongest coffee, as my ego got the better of me. I usually opt for the much fairer, tastier Colombian, but not this time).
I type.....
My first note, is weeks old. I remember feeling quite positive and proud of myself after. As ever, I was sat in a cafe in kingston, facing the queue of customers, when it was joined by a woman whose friends stayed outside. She was quite obviously pregnant, but was wearing a very sporty/'summery' outfit. I admit that i was distracted from my coffee by watching her in the queue. I soon realised that every other male inside was looking at the amazing arse on display, but then i caught a few people sniggering at her. I was confused but then she turned round and had the most extreme 'VPL' trying to hide under ridiculously tight lycra leggings. All men were laughing between themselves. I had to tell her of the visibility, and apologise to her from all men in the cafe. I was gratefully thanked, as she sat herself down. Although she was obviously causing joy/laughter to most men, she seemed a respectable, pregnant lady, not to be the but of everyones jokes (Oh crap, i've just spotted the unintended joke here, in my typing).
...continue,,,
I continue by sharing my simple good/relieved piece of mind that i get and so should all, when looking in the mirror. Before you start the jokes, i repeat myself yet again, by crying out that 'I'm a lucky man'. I find that the face is such an important element of a person. Although I am currently physically disabled, I find simple comfort by finding the same face that i always have done, when looking in the mirror.
Last week, I visited the local recreation ground for the first time (I know that i should have been before, but hey). It was sunny, and so, packed with families enjoying the playground, tennis courts etc. I found it difficult but told myself that i was not a kid, so it didn't matter, the climbing frame wasn't for me. I was troubled going past the tennis court, as I knew I was missing out. Although skinny arms, I did used to enjoy playing the sport. Enjoyed, but hey, not missed. Then I came across a lonely football, in the middle of the grass. Suddenly, part of my brain had a desperation to run up to it, and swinging it around to bounce of a targeted tree. I obviously didn't, couldn't, actually finding my lack of ability quite distressing. It was the first time, alone, that I faced this situation. Difficult, my brain was so used to kicking a football, now it can't is a shame. I would still know how to position my body to kick(scrape) it with the inside of my big toe, in order to curl it on to the target. But no, hey. I dream of playing again. I will, it's just a shame i won't be fit for euro 2012.
My next note, reminds me of what i relied on within hospital. I knew i was facing a difficulty, a physical disability, and that "shit happens", but i kept faith in those supporting me. I had faith in humanity. Years of watching the Tour de France, convinced me that humans are capable of amazing feats, with or without medical assistance the riders are still human beings. Physical tasks didn't just apply to cyclists, but thousands/millions of humans all over the world, I was/am just one person, and I could not/cannot make the problem bigger than it really is.
I must also state my utter joy of reading the autobiography of David Millar (British cyclist, personal hero). More than once does he pronounce his luck of being allowed a second chance at the cycling profession, after he became embroiled in a drugs scandal in 2005. I like to draw a comparison to myself and my luck of being given a 'second chance'. A serious pleasure to read. Thank you David.
I type.....
My first note, is weeks old. I remember feeling quite positive and proud of myself after. As ever, I was sat in a cafe in kingston, facing the queue of customers, when it was joined by a woman whose friends stayed outside. She was quite obviously pregnant, but was wearing a very sporty/'summery' outfit. I admit that i was distracted from my coffee by watching her in the queue. I soon realised that every other male inside was looking at the amazing arse on display, but then i caught a few people sniggering at her. I was confused but then she turned round and had the most extreme 'VPL' trying to hide under ridiculously tight lycra leggings. All men were laughing between themselves. I had to tell her of the visibility, and apologise to her from all men in the cafe. I was gratefully thanked, as she sat herself down. Although she was obviously causing joy/laughter to most men, she seemed a respectable, pregnant lady, not to be the but of everyones jokes (Oh crap, i've just spotted the unintended joke here, in my typing).
...continue,,,
I continue by sharing my simple good/relieved piece of mind that i get and so should all, when looking in the mirror. Before you start the jokes, i repeat myself yet again, by crying out that 'I'm a lucky man'. I find that the face is such an important element of a person. Although I am currently physically disabled, I find simple comfort by finding the same face that i always have done, when looking in the mirror.
Last week, I visited the local recreation ground for the first time (I know that i should have been before, but hey). It was sunny, and so, packed with families enjoying the playground, tennis courts etc. I found it difficult but told myself that i was not a kid, so it didn't matter, the climbing frame wasn't for me. I was troubled going past the tennis court, as I knew I was missing out. Although skinny arms, I did used to enjoy playing the sport. Enjoyed, but hey, not missed. Then I came across a lonely football, in the middle of the grass. Suddenly, part of my brain had a desperation to run up to it, and swinging it around to bounce of a targeted tree. I obviously didn't, couldn't, actually finding my lack of ability quite distressing. It was the first time, alone, that I faced this situation. Difficult, my brain was so used to kicking a football, now it can't is a shame. I would still know how to position my body to kick(scrape) it with the inside of my big toe, in order to curl it on to the target. But no, hey. I dream of playing again. I will, it's just a shame i won't be fit for euro 2012.
My next note, reminds me of what i relied on within hospital. I knew i was facing a difficulty, a physical disability, and that "shit happens", but i kept faith in those supporting me. I had faith in humanity. Years of watching the Tour de France, convinced me that humans are capable of amazing feats, with or without medical assistance the riders are still human beings. Physical tasks didn't just apply to cyclists, but thousands/millions of humans all over the world, I was/am just one person, and I could not/cannot make the problem bigger than it really is.
I must also state my utter joy of reading the autobiography of David Millar (British cyclist, personal hero). More than once does he pronounce his luck of being allowed a second chance at the cycling profession, after he became embroiled in a drugs scandal in 2005. I like to draw a comparison to myself and my luck of being given a 'second chance'. A serious pleasure to read. Thank you David.
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