Knee injuries make you feel really old. I mean really old; Igor-loping, arthriticky, limpingly, grotesquely old.
Dodgy knees don’t like stairs. You pause and think “oh drat” before going up and you come down in the ungainly fashion of a unidexter.
Knee problems are a timely reminder to have patience with people who are a bit slow on stairs and to be considerate at all times to those folk whose entire existence is ruled by degrees of impaired mobility.
Part of the knee recovery plan has been to use the turbo-trainer to keep the muscles in shape. It’s in the dining room overlooking the garden. Two hours before people turn up to dinner I get asked “Will you get that bike out into the garage?” and I’m afraid I always refuse because a) it’s a nice bike (elegant Simoncini frame with Shimano Ultegra gears) and b) because the garage is not a good place for a nice bike being so crowded with stuff and c) it’s a fag getting it to the garage and bringing it back again five hours later.
Anyway, the turbo-trainer deserves house room. I’ve kept faith with it through this injury and the frequent winter days when I deem it not safe to mix it with ice or traffic.
But with the best will in the world, the best tunes in the world and a reasonable view of robins flittering around the garden and dunnocks picking amongst the leaf litter, it’s not really what cycling is all about.
What cycling IS all about is hopping back on the bike, warmly dressed, snoody-ear warmers on, gloves, helmet, double-tights and getting out there early – down frosted tracks, crunching through frosted earth and shattering iced puddles under fabulously clear blue skies.
And it’s with much pleasure that I can report that I have been out three mornings out of the last five back on the bike and my God, it’s good to be back.
Rediscovery of the familiar is always good. I inspected the same landmarks, the way the crops are growing in the fields, the state of the watermeadows, I met my old pal dog-walkers and their dogs, I nearly collided with a swan on the track. It didn’t budge to begin with and then with a dignified and very deliberate lack of hurry, slipped under a fence and headed in a stately fashion towards the Severn.
Yesterday I got buzzed by a buzzard which, yes, ok I suppose I should expect. It must have been sitting very low in a tree when I disturbed it.
I also met some Gloucestershire cattle and almost persuaded one to come close enough for me to ruffle his gorgeously soft rufous-chestnut coat but he slowly shook his handsome horns at me as if to say “I prefer not to be touched, thank you.”
At the Docks my favourite masted sailing ship the Johanna Lucretia is continuing to be done up so it can be lived – a TV aerial has been fixed high up on a mast. The specialist boat repairers Nielson’s have two new dry-dock arrivals closeted away from prying eyes like mine under white tarpaulins.
My route takes me past the Tech College where students are shuffling in that reluctant“oh-oh-8.20am-is-far-too-early-to-be-dressed” manner to lectures. It felt good whizzing through them enjoying glorious freedom and glad those days of adolescent angst are long, long behind me. For a while, I rode alongside a sweet little steam-driven tug boat which was puttering along the sparkly-blue waters of the Gloucester to Sharpness canal.
Coming back was a bit testing. I felt the lack of condition on the few hills. But I was carrying potatoes, broccoli, spinach and grapes.
On reflection, perhaps it was a bit too early in the training schedule for vegetables.
Boadicea's Chariot 
What a lovely cow, wonderful colour. Excellent blog, as usual.
One of the things I have always noted, ex athletic types as they age always seem to acquire knee trouble or arthritic hips more so seemingly than the average population.
I am utterly convinced that it is self inflicted and that the body is not actually designed or meant to be hammered like it. The trouble is it becomes a necessity to people, part of their self esteem and how they see themselves.
You should consider swimming/golf, both much easier on the body! a psychological choice is always so much easier than an enforced one in due course.
I had this big time with the boy who had been very athletic in his younger days, it was a ski injury on top of a rugby injury on top of a bicycle injury that killed him in the end.
At least with gardening I can retreat to a window box I suppose and probably impale myself on a trowel or summat!
Yes Gloucestershire cattle are special, Christina. Excellent milk for the famous cheeses too!
I’m told that cartilage gets brittle when you get older and bits break off instead of being nice and springy and elastic. I’m nowhere near an athlete – only played tennis, squash (hated it) and badders, table tennis and cycling. A bit of light jogging too sometimes but nothing much.
I like swimming a lot but it’s very boring in a public pool. Golf I’m saving for my sixties when I’ll hire a nice golf coach to teach me properly.
Lovely blog Janh1.
Maybe this’ll be the year I get inot the bike… after I’ve finished the swimming challenge.
Good post. I’m with Christina on all this athletic malarky! But,I’m having to take more exercise and your blog has almost tempted me to get a bike… The absolute worst thing I’d encounter would be a bush turkey 🙂
Hello Janh: Thanks for the story and the pictures, all that was missing was a Gloucester Old Spot.
The tug looks like it’s making steam but it is probably diesel smoke, she looks very like the “Progress” a small tug belonging to the Gloucester Docks Museum and used for occasional work up and down the canal.
Here she is in the Docks
There is nothing wrong with exercise, Jan, but as you rightly say, moderation is the key. Doing what you enjoy it critical. I did the gym thing and it was boring; it did give a glow of self-righteous satisfaction, but hell, was it boring!
Crikey, Boadicea, a bush turkey would be a considerable obstacle. A bit like a swan. One is forced to give way!
Wow LW, you have the very boat! Oh it’s diesel is it? Oh well, still a very cute little vessel, as tugs go. Not an Old Spot but still well spotted!
Yes Araminta, I went to the gym for a while but I just can’t sustain it. Horrible music too loud to hear my own and instructions who were largely hopeless.
I too have a dodgy knee, but as a result of a fall, not exercise!
Sometimes it hurts more than others but Pernaton capsules (my one non-vegetarian thing) really help. No, I don’t work for the company and I don’t get commission. My arthritic octagenarian aunt has also switched on them and thinks they are great.
But until I get a new saddle (mine was stolen) I’ll stick to walking for my exercise. The bluebells will be around soon and walks in the woods will be beautiful.
If you like boats, let me share my new addiction – houseboatcentre.co.uk
Hi Isobel and thanks for the tip. Still on diclofenac at the moment and did an hour’s ride today with very little bother. Trouble is, it’s like my comfort blanket. I’m disinclined to stop before finishing the whole pack!
That’s a very low trick, stealing your saddle, Isobel. My comiserations. No-one would want my beaten up old thing with the cover torn in several places but it suits me completely.
Oh no, don’t tempt me Isobel. I’m always eyeing up vessels in the docks and on the canal. There is also a boatbuilding in Gloucester who will build a narrowboat to your own specification…