As luck would have it somebody wanted to sell a superb racing hand cycle and last Sunday Russ and I went to check it out. The Chaeli Campaign bought it to be used in our rehab programme (post Argus - Juan is amped!) and on Tuesday the worthy steed arrived at my door. The moment of truth had arrived!
I stole the short pillow off Chaeli's bed to make the canvas seat more comfortable, once again donned the headgear and gloves and took my first circular sweep of the arms as Firefly (yup - I've named the bright yellow frame that will be my constant companion over the next few weeks!) rolled onto Hampstead Way - ready for my first training ride through Bergvliet. What a feeling! Being in charge of my own mobility on a wheeled object (after so many angst-filled months of hoping that my knee would recover in time) and having the wind whip my face felt astoundingly good. It also made me realise what an awesome device hand cycles are - as this is precisely how people who can't use their legs must feel when they compete using these amazing cycles. And somehow I just felt that my doing the Argus on a hand cycle had become so much more meaningful - it just felt RIGHT.
Russ followed me (afraid I was going to be squashed like a toad in the road - I am only six inches off the tarmac!) and it was not a speedy journey. What looks like the straight and narrow does actually have a sloping uphill gradient and learning to control two sets of gears on each handle, break on one handle, steer with hands, turn corners and control direction as well as power the bike with your hands, is quite a mindblowing thing on the first attempt! But it was magic! Russ convinced me that 5km was enough for my 1st trip, and I eased back into our driveway, excited that I could do it. The Argus is ON and I am IN!
No "first" is ever free of war wounds. We had not adjusted the height of the handles and my thunder thighs had got in the way when I had to turn corners. I discovered that in my eagerness to complete the course I had powered my way through the pain of the handles cutting a groove into my thigh and an impressive purple/blue bruise had already started emerging. I even smiled at that. And then the anxiety set in as I asked myself: "How the heck am I going to get up from this very low seat - with the handles in the way - with my crock knees that cannot bend and cannot absorb the pressure of getting up?"
My head spun with so many options that I rendered myself totally useless and could not think of a single sensible thing to do. In desperation I flung my body sideways off the seat onto the ground and then tried to lift my left knee over the handles. And there I sat. I turned onto my hands and knees, and as my stiff and injured right knee does not bend, the only way I can get up off hands and knees is pushing off with my hands and keeping my legs straight and out to the side - bum in the air - like a giraffe at a watering hole. At this stage Russ and I are hysterical with laughter and Russ is desperately sorry that he does not have a video recorder handy. Will the spectators on Boyes Drive and Chappies be frightened by this spectacle if I need to dismount Firefly in order to walk up the hill? Clearly I need to find a more dignified exit strategy ...
I stole the short pillow off Chaeli's bed to make the canvas seat more comfortable, once again donned the headgear and gloves and took my first circular sweep of the arms as Firefly (yup - I've named the bright yellow frame that will be my constant companion over the next few weeks!) rolled onto Hampstead Way - ready for my first training ride through Bergvliet. What a feeling! Being in charge of my own mobility on a wheeled object (after so many angst-filled months of hoping that my knee would recover in time) and having the wind whip my face felt astoundingly good. It also made me realise what an awesome device hand cycles are - as this is precisely how people who can't use their legs must feel when they compete using these amazing cycles. And somehow I just felt that my doing the Argus on a hand cycle had become so much more meaningful - it just felt RIGHT.
Russ followed me (afraid I was going to be squashed like a toad in the road - I am only six inches off the tarmac!) and it was not a speedy journey. What looks like the straight and narrow does actually have a sloping uphill gradient and learning to control two sets of gears on each handle, break on one handle, steer with hands, turn corners and control direction as well as power the bike with your hands, is quite a mindblowing thing on the first attempt! But it was magic! Russ convinced me that 5km was enough for my 1st trip, and I eased back into our driveway, excited that I could do it. The Argus is ON and I am IN!
No "first" is ever free of war wounds. We had not adjusted the height of the handles and my thunder thighs had got in the way when I had to turn corners. I discovered that in my eagerness to complete the course I had powered my way through the pain of the handles cutting a groove into my thigh and an impressive purple/blue bruise had already started emerging. I even smiled at that. And then the anxiety set in as I asked myself: "How the heck am I going to get up from this very low seat - with the handles in the way - with my crock knees that cannot bend and cannot absorb the pressure of getting up?"
My head spun with so many options that I rendered myself totally useless and could not think of a single sensible thing to do. In desperation I flung my body sideways off the seat onto the ground and then tried to lift my left knee over the handles. And there I sat. I turned onto my hands and knees, and as my stiff and injured right knee does not bend, the only way I can get up off hands and knees is pushing off with my hands and keeping my legs straight and out to the side - bum in the air - like a giraffe at a watering hole. At this stage Russ and I are hysterical with laughter and Russ is desperately sorry that he does not have a video recorder handy. Will the spectators on Boyes Drive and Chappies be frightened by this spectacle if I need to dismount Firefly in order to walk up the hill? Clearly I need to find a more dignified exit strategy ...
OK Mrs Mycroft. You've officially gone there and beyond! All off the best. Will be rooting for you!
ReplyDeleteKindest Regards,
Isolet (Landey) Jansen