Bicycle V Car

Last week has been a little hectic.
On Saturday I did a sportive – shocking average speed – but wet, foggy and hilly so I suppose acceptable. Thankfully the speed on my Garmin is not AS shocking as what is recorded online. I’ve never taken part in a sportive before – but I find the concept of a timing chip strapped to your leg on a ride where you are actively encouraged to stop via vans filled with cake/drinks etc a bit odd.
Sunday – ran.
Monday – swam.
Tuesday – got driven into by an idiot driver during my commute home. 1 week and 1 day before meant to be boarding a plane to Majorca.

You know you’ve got a real love for cycling (I wont pretend I was as worried about run/swimming) when thoughts on being hit are:
O wow – that hurts –> what hurts? –> legs hurt –> in what way will this affect training, and will it impact racing? –> Am I still going to Majorca? –> Is my bike ok? Finally followed by a thorough mental check of bodily parts.

Thanks to my screaming excessively loudly and repeatedly, a bit like a fog horn, and I suppose my being sprawled on the road next to a bicycle, an ambulance was phoned for, as were police, and the rest is history because I’m fine. Excluding bruises and a pretty sore neck – it would seem in flinging arms to protect head I pulled a load of muscles.

My bike less so, she’s had some updated parts, and I can sense an ongoing insurance battle before I see any money back. I have to admit, I was pretty heartbroken when I examined my Dulce, I still am, but at least she tells a story.

I could blog about the injustice of the relationship between drivers and cyclists, the fact that in this case the driver was just completely careless, but I won’t because enough has been said already. So I revert to type to talk about myself.

I’ve never been very good at recovery, but following actually being hit by a car I think one has to accept defeat and I took two days totally off. On Friday, I decided to try a little run. I felt very naughty as I pulled on my trainers and clicked the door behind me. I took it easy, the inclines hurt my knees, but it was ok.

In the evening, I tested a little swim – also ok, though I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt at all. And today I rode – carefully and easily, but I still got on the bike and got out, which I have to say is more than I thought I would be able to do on Tuesday night when my knees were screaming.

When my body isn’t performing how I want it, isn’t getting faster quick enough, feels heavy when I want to feel light and weak when I want to feel strong, it is tempting to feel frustrated with it for not achieving the goals. It has to be said though, this week – my body has done a damn good job of recovering.

I almost say that with an ounce of worry – maybe I’m speaking too soon and some nasty repercussion is set to rear its head soon. But for now, I suppose I’m very grateful to this set of limbs that support me, even when I doubt their ability to do so. Hopefully, I will bear this in mind next time the numbers on the clock don’t meet my desires.

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