Fell shoes and nightrides

The Walsh fell shoes came this week.  Well, actually, they came last week, but my size was too small, so they were returned for a half size bigger.  Size up with these ones, folks! 

Had to go to the post office and, as I'm still resisting driving, figured a lunchtime run to Colwall branch would be a perfect opportunity to christen them. Amazing in mud and in the woods. No surprise to find they feel strange and unstable on tarmac and hardcore compared to the vffs. Comfy though, and an awful lot of fun in the bridleway swamps where I could let the legs go fearlessly into the depths rather than precariously walk alongside trying not to slip over.  

I'm finding running very liberating, the sense of freedom is huge.  I think it's freedom from constraint of rideability, (I can run a lot of places that aren't worth trying to ride), freedom from kit and hassle, and freedom from trying to be better.  I think I know in my heart that pushing hard, training hard, would see little in terms of reward. I may get a little quicker, but I am not sure I'd want to.

I'm happy plodding steadily, soaking everything up and not having any thoughts toward numbers, figures and all the stuff that really doesn't matter.  Running is such a huge pleasure right now and I really don't want to loose that love.  I do, however, want to spend as much time on my feet as possible, as going further (no matter how slowly) is a big goal.  To be able to run effortlessly all day would be perfect.

The VFFs also came out for a run on Thursday, just a quick 20 mins.  When it's dry, it seems I'd rather be 'barefoot' style than anything else.  I just feel more stable, more in control and lighter on my feet.  I suspect that running in both fell shoes, and the VFFs, will be the best of both worlds in terms of ankle and leg adaption to long distance plodding. 

I rode again too this week.  Again the 29er on the road, little use of my right arm, and just the silence and bliss of being out and about for 45 mins.  I climbed hills, saw the lights over Ledbury and was perfectly content. There was no pain in my arm and everything just felt right. 

I did a few beam shots with that little Magicshine MJ-890 against the Exsposure Diablo. The Exposure is actually our off-road club light for the social rides, but it makes an interesting comparison.  It is 5 times the price of the Magicshine. I will comment of battery life etc later, but here's the beam shots for now. When I get round to it, I'll dig out some specs. 

Exposure on high

Exposure on low

Magicshine

Not bad eh?  That little unit is really holding it's own and the light spread is just fine.  Sure, it's not lighting up the hedges, but it is lighting up what it needs to.  I am well impressed by it so far.

One week later and the cast was gone, like magic

Monday morning, 9:15 am, precisely one week after I was on the operating table, I went to fracture clinic.  Thank goodness, I thought, finally they will replace this backslab and put a proper cast on it, so I can stop worrying about it moving around.  The nurse cut the cast off and I sat in the chair, trying not to move my one week old break for ten minutes until the consultant strolled in. 

Then it all got a little surreal.  He lifts my arm and starts telling me to move it this way, that way, straighten (very painful, even after just a week in plaster my elbow had begun to lock), hand forward, hand back.  The nurse is called over to remove the butterfly stitches off the wound, which looks surprisingly good.  The nurse is told to put a post-op dressing on it and I am told to remove it in a week.  

"Does that mean I am going to have to come back to fracture clinic next week for a proper plaster?  Are you putting me back into a half-slab?"  

"No, you aren't going to be in plaster at all. Just don't lift anything heavier than a cup of tea, and no press ups. Come back in 5 weeks"

I was rather discombobulated.  

"Can I drive?" "When you feel ready"

"Oh"

"Can you go to physio today? Go see a hand therapist at physio, they will give you exercises."

And with that, like a genie in a bottle, the magic consultant was gone.  

So it seemed, were all the physios.  I couldn't see anyone that day, I've had no phonecall as promised, and no letter.  Just let loose in the world without any real instruction.  Steve told them to just replaster it, it would be better all round. The boss said "do they have any idea how clumsy you are" when I broke the news. 

I got home to the best box of 'get well soon' vegan treats from my friend Jen, however, it seems they are actually celebration materials.  No cast.  Seriously.  No cast.  

But without a cast, and any real instruction, there comes a lot of responsibility.  What can I do?  What equates to lifting a cup of tea?  I have to constantly try and remember I even have a broken arm.  The progress through the week has been immense.  On the Monday, I couldn't even pick up a pen as my thumb was totally unresponsive.  By Tuesday I was touch typing and writing normally. 

By Wednesday I was holding that cup of tea, had full movement in my thumb and pretty much all forward movement had returned to my wrist.  I was grumpy though, fed up and tired of long site days and no decent exercise, until Steve offered to come running with me and we did a local 20 minute run, on dark lanes, in floodwater.  What fun!  Steve runs literally at twice my speed, but he was happy to lope alongside as I pattered along in my VFFs on the tarmac getting rather out of breath in the cold air. 

Thursday I totally forgot I had a broken arm and carried my work bag to the door, before kicking myself when I realised what I had done, even though there was no pain. How much can this plate thing take? I certainly don't plan to test it. I kept opening heavy doors on site by accident, going to shake peoples hand, in general being useless at remembering the arm situation.  People bash into me in shops, on the street.  I trip up and fall over my own feet, walk into doorframes and am a bumbling-clumsy. So I figured, in the evening, I could probably get away with a short bike ride to test out a lovely little commuter light sent through by Magicshine.  In the big scheme of 'risk to the broken arm', riding a MTB, on smooth roads, with easy to use finger sensitive brakes, and when I am acutely aware of the fact I would get endless grief if I did hurt myself, well, it seems rather low down the scale to be honest.  

I am not a believer in sponsorship, and bigging up brands just because they provide handouts, so you will get an honest opinion of free kit I am given. Luckily for Magicshine, this seems a real gem of a light. Low weight, excellent bar-mounting system with an uber-simple belt-like strap, USB charge and bright enough to ride our dark lanes. 

As always, I was happier with a headtorch supplemental light for spotting potholes, however, that's true, whatever bar light I run. It's a bit fugly, but then I'm just not a fan of orange.  Sad to admit, but if the colorway had been all black, red or blue, I would love the look a lot more. There will be a much more detailed review at the start of April when, pending healing, it will be coming on a road trip to Belgium. I wasn't out long enough to comment on run time at this point.  

But it was good to be out, oh boy, was it ever good.  The lights of Colwall made me smile. 

Saturday I rode again.  Carefully, uber carefully, on the flat traffic free family route at the Forest of Dean.  I rode one armed, or lightly resting the injured arm on the bars, never gripping or braking harshly.  Never putting stress through the forarm. I had fantastic company from two good friends, who were happy with the super steady pace.  Of course there was a risk, but really, none comparable to that faced every day when I forget about the injury.

This is Bruce's classic steel tourer, ready for Scottish epics and carrying luggage.  I hope I am able to join him at some point.

The best thing about riding flat routes is being able to do it in my favourite trainers.  Heh.  I don't know why this makes me happy.

So I've written this up as a draft, but it won't be published for a while.  Why?  Because I can't be bothered with having to 'explain myself' 'justify my actions' or deal with people's criticism.  It's my life, I chose how to live it. I know one thing, if anything is going to affect the healing of this arm, it's the way I always end up lying on it and stressing it in my sleep, so every morning I wake up and it hurts like hell.  Surely sleep should be the safest thing of all? 

Sunday now seems to be 'long run day'

Another long run this Sunday, out from home after a lazy lie-in, and up onto the hills. There was intermittent walking in the woods, where the clayey mud remained, for slipping at this point in time could be catastrophic to a slowly healing broken arm.  However, most of the trails were dry, and the leaf litter soft and grippy beneath my feet.

Once up top on open hillsides, the dry paths allowed a steady consistent period of running. It was easy running too, with the elevation gained all in the initial climb lost steadily plodding on side-skirting bridlways, without too much effort and much time to just soak up the hazy views and warmth of a proper spring day.

I hadn't set out with any intentions, but soon realised I was heading the right direction to encounter the Sunday MTB group at the British Camp Cafe, and, sure enough, we converged, along with Del, another injured rider who had walked over to meet the guys. It was great catching up with everyone, drinking coffee in the sun.

After an hour sat around, it was time to head home.  Initially the legs were tight, but they eventually loosened up again and I took it easy, running the lower paths until picking a descent to Colwall. A period of careful walking followed, for the downhill remained very muddy and the falling risk too high. So I stuck to walking the undergrowth edges until it leveled and I could again feel safe to increase the speed.

Calf muscles had different ideas, and I looked at the distance.  9.9 km!  Close to the longest distance I had ever done in the VFFs, and a good way from home.  Still, my mind was very much taken off the cramping legs by being on new footpaths, running alongside babbling brooks, bone dry fields and finding a route over the railway by the station.

The last 2 kms to home were tough, but, with sheer-bluddy-mindedness, I pushed on finishing with a total distance of 14 km.  14 km of barefoot style, front foot landing, pattering that, just six weeks ago, I would have imagined would take months to complete. Of course it was slow, there was walking round the mud, coffee and even photo taking, but who cares? I am just grateful to have been out and about and exploring and am looking forward to a time when I can run all day in the same way as I can ride.  Right now the limiting factors are my calves, but they are getting stronger. Hopefully the summer can be filled with epic day adventures, either by bike, or by foot.

Recovery and Dealing with Injury

Not everyone has been through the kind of injury that keeps you off the bike for several weeks, and the first time it happens it can be a real shock to find that there is a lot more than just the physical aspects to deal with.

This time, the third time of emergency surgery and plaster cast, I am finding the whole thing much easier and have felt mostly level headed, in fact regularly quite content and happy with this little life curve-ball. Experience is important, as is mental strength gained from knowing that injury can happen at any time but that it is possible to get through it with mindfulness and acceptance. Don't get me wrong, it's not all anodised happiness, in fact, sometimes it feels like a right royal PITA, but that's life, and every experience, even the bad ones, teach us something worthwhile.

Backtracking a week, around the time I hit that tree, I knew instantly my arm was broken. It took the full concentrated 20 mph impact of me + bike into a really small diameter, but very hard, trunk. Crack.

The guys were good, checking me over, but I was keen to get moving and get off the hill. With a break you have a magic pain-reduced window of approximately 40 minutes where then adrenaline is high, and the oedema has yet to manifest significantly. They were right though, making sure there was no head injury, before letting me walk. The first blessing to be counted was wearing my full face helmet, very nearly left in the car that morning in favour of a standard enduro/xc lid like the guys.

Two working legs. Easy to take for granted, but I have never been so grateful for them. The mental contingency plan began to take shape before I was even back at the van. Hospital, possible op, initial healing which will also give the rest of me a good recovery period, then time in cast limiting any riding and allow full focus on improving running technique....the more I thought about it, the happier I was. I'd have time to catch up with route planning, bike selling, blogging, reading, photography. The fact I'd be off the bike for a while just didn't seem to matter at all.

We settled on Gloucester Hospital and the guys loaded everything in the van. Yet another blessing, we were in Steve's van and not mine, and insurance wasn't an issue. I have had to drive myself a number of times in the past when injured, with a broken thumb, a separated shoulder and even, stupidly, whilst severely concussed. Not this time. This time I was lucky enough to be there with Steve who stayed calm and was nothing but brilliant through the entire event.

One of the hardest things to deal with when injured is letting people down. Breaking the bad news to the boss was done later, but at that point, there was a far more pressing issue. Telling Mum, who is, quite frankly, the most risk adverse person I know. It was a relief when my visiting brother answered the phone and I garbled we couldn't make dinner as my arm was in two pieces, and could he break the news gently to Mum please that I was perfectly OK, other than the broken arm which is a VERY MINOR thing. "No", he said, "it's too late, you are on speakerphone at the dinner table". Doh!

Gloucester hospital were brilliant. Steve dropped me off, and whilst he went on a 'giant van parking space' hunt,  A&E reception bumped me up the list and straight into preliminary assessment. It helped that my arm was bending where it shouldn't and bones were crunching. From that moment on I received nothing but five star care. Drugs, kindness and help with clothing from the triage nurse. Highly perfected distraction techniques and skill from the radiographer, who obtained x-rays without moving the bones too much. Not an easy job when there was a broken arm, potential finger dislocation and elbow damage to check. The A&E staff, after ooohhing and ahhhing over the X-ray did everything they could to get me a space on a ward and an assessment by the orthopedic consultant.  I wasn't surprised that surgery was required, but I was very relieved there was no faffing or stalling about it. I consider myself lucky that all three of my big accidents have resulted in surgical repair, after seeing so many friends on the 'wait and see' healing path: collar bones that never heal properly, long term wrist mobility issues and so many lost months of riding.

Times like this you really find out who cares for you, and I couldn't believe it when I was wheeled out of X ray to see my brother, niece and nephew waiting with Steve. They had popped in with a baguette and vegan marg and to check I was OK on their way to town. I rarely get to see my family and it really meant a lot that they took the time to come. Vikki put a picture on Facebook, and before I knew it, there were so many 'get well soon' wishes from friends and family, offers of help and general kindness.

The day ward coped admirably with me being dumped on them, and found me a bed by the evening. There was no sign of vegan food of course, the poor young lass nothing but apologetic for something that is a major system failure and not in any way her fault. I'll leave comment regarding the nutritional debarcle of NHS catering for another time, but thankfully Steve had left me with a carton of soya milk before he had to leave for home. Horses still need feeding even if your girlfriend is injured, but he had done more than enough by that point, bless him. In typical perfect boyfriend fashion he was worried about leaving, but I was calm as Hindu Cows and keen that he got home and got his work done before midnight.

After Steve left I was in an empty room, no TV, rapidly depleting phone battery and closed hospital shop. The wonderful nurses asked around and found me a magazine, but no phone charger, and I was getting hungry after the offerings of two slices of dry toast and jam. I couldn't believe it when my niece turned back up, with massive supplies of vegan food, a phone charger, clothes to sleep in with sleeves baggy enough to get over my arm, a magazine and a puzzle book. What an amazing lady, I will never forget her kindness.

A rough night was spent; codeine infused doziness interspersed with clanking bones. I asked for an extra pillow to support the arm, but there was none. The night nurse wasn't keen to help and rushed a '1 pillow, 1 person' retort and that was that. It was the only time where I felt like I was getting the rough end of the understaffed-over stretched NHS. The rest of the staff were rushed off their feet, under immense pressure, but were never once rude or unhelpful. It wasn't a major issue in the end as the ward was so hot I ruffled up the bedding in a big ball to support the arm, and it got me through til morning. We forget how incredibly lucky we are in the UK to even have the NHS. It's bowing and buckling under pressure and we still expect perfection from it. Time wasters are a massive part of the problem. Whilst in A&E one of the nurses asked if I had come in an ambulance. "Don't be daft" I said, "it's just a broken arm"! "We've had someone phone 999 for a broken toe before". Seriously, if you can hobble to a taxi or a lift, there is no excuse ever to phone for a precious ambulance. A broken arm is not a 999 emergency. Sometimes I wish I was in charge......but does a clumsy mountainbiker who has put significant stress on the system through a number of crashes have any right to pass judgement?

I cannot explain just how deeply emotional I felt that day. Of course it may have been the drugs, but I was so blessed with people to care for me and western healthcare. In the third world this kind of injury would be a huge issue. A right arm break, unable to feed myself or my children, no drugs, plaster and especially no surgical intervention. It would be life changing, if not fatal.  But I was fed, loved and cared for with no significant pain and knowing my only dependent, sophie-dog, was safe at the stables and undoubtedly not missing me an ounce.

The senior consultant came to visit and talked me through the injury and the operation. Two things can happen when you break a forearm, either both bones break or, like in my situation, one bone breaks and the strength from the intact bone forces the other out of the wrist joint. Thus the joint requires setting and the bone plating.  The surgical team also came to visit, as did a further consultant who I suspect will be dealing with my case directly. So many amazingly talented people involved in patching one person up, I felt like I could put all my trust in them to do it right.

Surgery was scheduled for 9:15 am Monday, and I enjoyed the jolly-trolly trip through the hospital with the amusing porters, and the 'going under' experience a lot. I remember the first general anesthetic I had, being petrified about the risks and how it would feel, but this time it was just great. There is something quite magical about the countdown to induced sleep.

Coming round was the usual mission, I understand.  I don't remember anything until 1:30 pm, but apparently I had them worried in the recovery room as the drugs may have been a bit too strong for little me. Usual post-op pain was numbed instantly by intravenous morphine and the afternoon was spent in a haze of lovely sleep waiting for Steve to come and collect me.  Unfortunately the sleep didn't help the wound swelling and that, along with my difficult recovery, and I suspect 'home-time' for the consultant, meant another night in. The evening went quickly with visits from Steve and my Niece, both thankfully bringing ridiculous quantities of vegan food to supplement the horrid-looking, but exceptionally tasty, hospital root veg curry. Luckily the morphine had worn off by then, as Vikki brought Mum along too and I could hold a compos mentis conversation and provide reassurance that I was on the road to recovery.

Attempting left handed sudoko at midnight with another dose of morphine coursing through my veins wasn't wholly unsucessful and I felt rather smug that my accomplished left-handed skills, developed last time in plaster, hadn't been lost. I slept on and off, but it was a very tough night for the elderly lady opposite who spent most of the time screaming and moaning in pain as a massive number of doctors and nurses tried to help. The room was empty when I woke in the morning.

Discharge always takes time, but beds are needed, so understandably, I was shifted into the discharge lounge as soon as possible after seeing the consultant on Tuesday morning. Interestingly, other than instruction to keep the arm elevated for three days and information on compartment syndrome, I was let go with no instruction regarding rest, healing, work or driving. I was given a huge bag of drugs though, codeine, liquid morphine and paracetamol, all of which remain unopened. Other than popping a few asprin for the journey home, I've not needed pain meds since. My digestion thanks me.

Getting home, that's when the challenge really starts. The kindest and 'escape from real life' of a hospital stay is over, and the importance of mental strength comes to the fore,

Firstly, work. I work for a small company and there is no redundancy in the system. Profitable staff, i.e. the technical ones who complete the work, support not just themselves, but the administration staff in the office. It is just not feasible for the company to carry unproductive people on the pay roll. It is also not fair, both on our small scale business, and bigger society, for me to sit around being supported by others when I am more than capable of doing something. Again, I was very lucky, if I had to get injured, it couldn't have happened at a better time. My normal national work profile has changed for the next few months and I'm staying in the county, working for a local public body. Wednesday and Thursday I was trying to report. Slowly, typing left handed, but still, getting work done, emailing clients and checking reports. It was hard, but important to keep sane. By Friday I was back on site. Work were brilliant, and made it clear I didn't have to get back on site until I was ready, but I was struggling with reporting. Using my left hand was mentally very tiring and I knew I would be more use surveying.  Despite my offers to get public transport to site, work provided a trained young labourer to collect me from home and do all my asbestos sampling until I am fixed. Friday I just had to use my eyes and brain whilst the young lad did the physical stuff. It was brilliant, we got loads done and I was happy to be contributing again..

It's still the early stages of healing, but I have tried to make the most of the induced rest, eating good nutritous food, watching films, reading books and making plans for long runs later in the healing process.  I've also managed to get out in the vibram five fingers, using the time to keep working with adapting to barefoot form and investigating local footpaths.

There is so much pleasure in exploration and it feels good to still find mini adventures so close to home. Today my legs took me on a 10 km tactile barefoot tour, feeling so many sensations: sun warmed tarmac, stony massages on my soles, plasticine mud between my toes and soft springy grass bouncing me uphill. Looking over to snow covered Hay Bluff, feeling the terrain beneath my feet, I felt so at peace and wanted for nothing, and to be nowhere else.

I know I should wrap this up as, even typing left-handed, this appears to be of essay proportions, so I'll summarise the things that are helping me get through injury and time off the bike.

1) acceptance of the situation and experience
2) looking at the positives, being grateful for the good
3) using the opportunity to do something different, learn new skills (like writing left handed!) and relish the new experiences the rehabilitation journey brings

Nibley

Sunday was another chance to get out on the bike with Grove before he returned South, to the mountainbiking desert of Dorset.  Finally I was going to get to explore those trails at Nibley, to get to know the place again and make sure I could incorporate some 'rideable by everyone' trails into a summer social big day out.  It was just a small turnout, but, to be honest, probably the better for it on an exploration ride, with four of us keen to investigate the various features, or not, as the case may be for some of the huge hand build structures hidden away in the woods.

We spent time warming up on the steep roll-ins from the edge of the quarry, running fast and leading straight in to jumps at the bottom.  I was pretty pleased to find a modicum of jump ability pretty quickly, it's been a long time since I've hit bigger features and I have done barely any on the enduro. 

Cookie is there, hidden beyond the undergrowth in the pic. It's a really steep roll-in, and we went through the 'I'm not sure....it's really steep....is that a wheel swallowing hole?...is it even rollable?...I'll give it a go....oh that was easy what was I even worrying about' motions.  Always feels good to tick a hard-looking feature off the 'must do' list. 

We rode a few different trails, with some nice rolling corners, but the main line was still the best.  Starting at the top, it leads through the flat-out-wide-open top section, then tight through the trees as it traverses the edge of the hill. Eventually the trail heads down to provide gravity fed speed for the bigger jumps and drops at the bottom. My one aim for the day was to hit, and clear, the big step down alternate finish, and was most chuffed indeed to succeed on the trail bike.

We spend some time at the Tyndale Monument, clambering up the 120 steps to see the epic views, and feel the ferocious winds that batter the top of the tower at the exposed location.  

Amazingly well constructed, the tower steps are a dizzying route to the top. Not a place for the claustrophobic.

That's Grove n Steve, and four bikes, down threre.  The grills over the window stop people falling (or should that be jumping?) out.

After lunch, we headed back to the trails, legs tired after a weekend's worth of riding.  It had been a good day. Big jumps completed, lots of laughs had, and I was quite content to try and chase Steve down main line again.  

Within 20 seconds I was drifting wide on a very fast, flat and totally non-descript corner and, in that split second, I knew I was unavoidably destined for a hard impact into a tree. By the time I hit the floor I knew the arm was broken, and by the time I was walking off the hill, the 'injury contingency' plan was formulating in my head and I was feeling very blessed. Blessed to be walking, blessed to have access to the NHS, blessed to have people who care for me and blessed to know that mentally I was more than ready to face the challenge of injury again. 

A right jolly social at the Forest of Dean

Saturday just gone.  Dryness, so so dry.  What a fabulous day to draw 17 riders together for some epic fun on swishyswooshy, sunshine dappled, forest trails.

It was nothing but brilliant, although a surprisingly tough pace, and my '5 km Friday run' legs and lungs were struggling along at the back of the pack on the climbs.  Definitely still off-form, but it just didn't matter, I hung in there right to the end, and made the most of every gravity-fed descent with a big grin.

It wasn't such a great day for everyone. A frame breakage is never wanted, but particularly not a good way from the cars.

Still, an ingenious repair with tyre levers and zip ties allowed the owner to roll an 8 km shortcut home, and hopefully the damage will be covered by the warranty.

Grove, as always, had indeed managed to remember all the best trails, and with the dry weather, everyone was keen to repeat the fun stuff for photos.  Here's Steve doing his normal super-style off a tree stump kicker.

Young Grady came along with us for the day. At 6ft it's easy to forget he is just 13, but it's great to see his riding come on in leaps and bounds.

After lunch, everyone was feeling the distance and the pace slowed, but the singletrack was too appealing to miss with an early finish. Crunchy leaves, soft green moss, dry roots and barely any other riders.

By the end of the day my legs re-found some strength and held up to chase the fast guys down the final descent, hanging on for dear life as we flew off kickers and slid down the steep chutes of Y2K. 

Kington

Friday workday, Leominster and Kington. Just enough time for escape between sites and a visit to Hergest Ridge.  Recent ride plotting has revealed a huge number of bridleways around the Gladestry area and the potential for epic days of bike and bivvy is huge. However, it's good to see the OS maps translated a little, to get an idea of surface and exposure. 40 mins isn't long, but it was long enough to get in the furthest barefoot style run/walk to date. 

The run started with a steep tarmac road that gradually narrowed until reaching a gate, and both the gradient and surface mellowed under foot.

The gravel turned to the softest spongy grass and the scenery opened right out. Running past a couple of walkers, out for the day with big rucksacks and hiking poles, I was grateful for the simplicity of my task. True escapism in nothing more than rolled up work trousers and the Vibram five fingers.

With such gentle terrain, I could stop worrying about foot placement and watch the hills roll away into Powys, knowing, by bike, the distance will be covered with ease in a day.

Eventually the clock began to tick louder, repeating 'get to site, get to site' so a decision to turn had to be made.  In the distance there appeared a clump of monkey puzzle trees, strangly out of place on this ridge. It seemed as good a place as any to call the top and, sure enough, the ridge began to fall away in front of me once there.

A few photos later and it was all downhill to the van, plucking up the courage to let the legs go and let gravity do the work.  

I'm still tentative in the fivefingers, but the confidence is increasing, as is the strength in my calves. 5,2 kms, most of which was running, buzzing with endorphines and happy as a sandboy.