A couple of weeks ago, my physio-therapist washed his hands of me and my course of prescribed therapy ended. This doesn't mean I'm done - I'll be stretching and working shoulder for the rest of my life.
But I'm glad to see my therapy end. As much help and encouragement that Jim was, I'm glad that I don't have to see him anymore. I'm sure he understands. :)
Today was another giant step in my recovery -- I rode to work for the first time since the accident. I didn't push it. I stayed in the middle gears and had a nice slow ride.
It went great. My arm and shoulder survived and were fine. No pain, no soreness.
I can't explain how wonderful it felt to be on my wheels again.
The only disappointment was during my ride home. All day long I thought about what I would do when I encountered the small piece of trail between Burnside Road and Tillicum Road where I came off all those weeks ago. Would I ride it? Or would I just avoid it and alter my route?
I didn't decide until I was riding home. I decided that I was feeling okay and I would ride that bit of trail. I would go slow, I might even stop for a moment of contemplation. I would ride that trail.
But as I approached, the trail was roped off. The municipality was in the middle of beautifying the area, and the trail was closed for the duration of the work. As I got closer, I realized that they had changed the path completely. The little trail that I fell on isn't even there anymore.
The piece of ground where I left my mark is gone now, but the marks it left on me will stay with me. The scar on my shoulder and the metal in my arm will be a constant reminder to me of how close I came.
And how lucky I am.
Notes on "Local Knowledge" my talk on LaPérouse
3 months ago