29 August 2006

So, progress. It’s been a few days since I wrote one of these. I guess no change is the best way to describe it, which counts as good generally I think.

It was suggested that I should renew my gym membership and get back there. I know it’s right. The one time I went a few weeks back, I got on ok whilst doing a bit of a lighter routine, and there’s no reason to think I can’t do it. It’s at times like right now (first thing in the morning – well, first thing-ish) that I have my doubts. I don’t know if I particularly have more difficulty getting mobile first thing, or if it’s just that the start of day is a reminder that things aren’t right, but I feel that if I have trouble walking to the station, what am I achieving by going to the gym? And what if going to the gym wipes me out and makes it hard to get to work? Logically I know this doesn’t really stack up as I know that I walked about 4 miles a few weeks ago, admittedly with a break halfway through, but it didn’t knacker me too much for the next day.

Otherwise, the weekend was full of positives. Saturday started lazy. I’d planned to have a kip as I’d not slept well on Friday night but it didn’t happen for one reason or another, and then I had a bunch of uncertainties as to how I’d get on with driving. In the end, it was fine. It was a bit of a strain holding my arms up for my normal “10 to 2” driving position, but I discovered that at “20 to 4” I rested my arms on my knees, and it was actually all fine. I felt more confident after that, although still a little nervous at that point about driving to Stansted in the middle of the night followed straight away by the journey home. Then I figured that I could rest at Stansted if need be, and if the worst really came to the worst, I’m sure my breakdown cover would kick in in some way and get me home. Or something. Hey, I’m becoming quite used to taking chances! In any case, I really didn’t want to allow this to bring me down, or to accept that I can’t do too many things. Life is too precious for that.

In the event, it was fine. After a really nice evening, and in bed by 10 - so got about 5 hours sleep - the 3.15 start was no great problem, the drive to Stansted was cool and event-free, and the drive home (which was really my greatest fear) was a breeze. No issue at all. And by the end of it I felt no worse than at the start. I even snatched a couple of hours sleep when I got home at 5.45, having been driving for over 2 hours.

I was feeling good enough to drive to the bungalow on Monday for mum’s birthday, but Steve and Chris had already pre-offered to take me, so no effort, and Liz and the kids were going home earlier that others, so I went back with them. All in all it was fine and a nice day too, but only short drives at beginning and end of the day.

So, the upshot is that I faced a real uncertainty over how I would deal with extended driving and got through it fine. I felt tired-ish at the end, but then I felt tired-ish at the beginning too. So it was much of a muchness. :-)