19 May 2016


After my brilliant achievement of an actual proper walk (i.e. boots, backpack, packed lunch, rain gear, map and compass) earlier this month, we thought, what if this actually works, what if this drug enhanced immune compromised body has once again figured out what it takes. After all, it's only been seven years since this was our regular twice a month Sunday adventure.
And this time, why not double length, altitudes to climb, hours and difficulty. Which we did. It was fabulous despite the occasional lingering feeling of being run over by a truck and the two bloody blisters I discovered afterwards on my right foot.






Never mind blisters, I thought and I got carried away, cycled longer and steeper distances every day this week, worked overtime, registered with bikes vs. cars,  ordered decent maps for our Alpine summer walking adventure, cooked elaborate dinners and filled my calendar with a string of exciting events for the coming weeks.

(Little did she know . . .)

Just after I had filmed that little video from my last post on my way home yesterday, my knees started to buckle and after struggling for a while with my stubborn ego, I gave up and called R who without much fuss (thank you) picked me up, bicycle and all, while the volcano began to erupt inside of me. In our adult voices, we reassured ourselves with pleasant chitchat about virus infections and allergic reactions to the pollen overload in a dry windy forest. We did a fairly decent job drowning out the whiny voice inside my head, the one that kept on hissing, told you so.
When the first wave of nausea hit me in the early hours of this morning, I groped for the dramamine in the dark, skilfully avoiding the worst of the sea sickness, aka vomiting. By the time R woke I was well and truly back into my boring chronic illness life, shivers and fevers and vertigo, contemplating the Alpine summer adventure in a deckchair instead. In other words: Back at square one. The usual.

But it was such a great spell and although - of course - I overdid it, I'll do it again and again. There's always a next time, R cheerfully confirmed as he left for work. He is always ahead of me.




7 comments:

  1. May this just be a short exacerbation.

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  2. May there always be many more next times in your bicycling, hiking, dreaming future. Take care there.

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  3. Thank you for the photos from your adventure with R and the photo of R ahead of you. Sending love and healing energy, as always. Your light continues to shine in the midst of your chronic illness.

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  4. Nursing a sore knee here after running too much after weeks and weeks of "rest" following two eye operations, so I can relate to what you say! I, too, tend to go at things "like a bull in a china shop" as my mother says.

    I "accidentally" went walking in normal socks and stout-ish trainers. I got no blisters! I questioned the whole big boot thing and now walk in lightweight footwear and normal socks. No blisters. (I had done quite a lot of fell running too and, running round the hills in light trainers, had begun to question the big boots approach anyway). I still keep my boots for really rough, rocky walks but that's all.

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  5. I'm sorry for your suffering, but I'm glad that you had a bit of a go at it! The pictures are beautiful -- as is your strength and resilience.

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  6. Not, of course, back at square one; square one was before you did all that and enjoyed it.

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  7. I am happy that you thoroughly enjoyed your "great spell." Sorry, though, for the setback. Nausea is just the worst.

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