Goodbye

when my dad moved to Ireland 5 or 6 years ago he didn't take his mountain bike, he said for the time being I could use it when I wanted. I were struggling with cycling by then but after years of various doctors, nurses, consultants, paediatricians, physiotherapists and any other medical professionals I've forgotten about telling me their was nothing wrong and just to get more exercise I thought they must be right and so if I intended on going for a 15 mile cycle ride but my knee started hurting after a couple of miles I would punish myself for imagining this pain and cycle 30 miles pushing myself hard so my knee was screaming at me to stop, I wouldn't stop though I would only push harder. It sounds so stupid now that I did that but when as a child and teen your constantly told that theirs nothing wrong with you your just looking for attention or just being lazy you start to wonder if maybe you are particularly when it's mostly those in the medical profession telling you this because surely they would know if their really was something wrong. Of course a few years ago I got a diagnosis but by then the damage had been done, I can't blame it completely on all those people who didn't believe me who said I were attention seeking or it was just growing pains or tried to send me to a psychologist because I were so obviously in need of one! I can't blame it just on them because it's my fault too, I were stupid enough to listen to them and not listen to my body.

I used to be addicted to cycling, seriously. I would get up at 5am in the summer just so I had more time to cycle and that was when I were a teenager. Cycling always caused pain but then so did everything else and at least cycling was fun. I loved it, I sometimes managed to cycle 40 or 50 miles I were always pulling muscles but rarely managed to rest for more than a day to recover from injury. Even after I had a little accident that landed me in a&e I were cycling just a few days later. I'd been going down a hill (typically on the quietest road in the area you know the kind of road that has grass growing up the middle) and went round a corner but my shoulder decided not to go round the corner and dislocated which sort of distracted me and next thing I knew I were flying through the air and thinking 'hmmm guess this is why I should wear a helmet' I were then found sprawled in the road unconcious by the next person to drive along the road, never did have much idea of how long I were there before I were found. But a few days later still suffering from a slight concussion I ventured out on the bike again still without a helmet. Hey I never said I'm sensible!

So yesterday I said goodbye to that part of my life. Since I got my power chair last year everytime I hobble down to the garage to get it out I see my bike just stood there dusty now and it always hurt everytime I saw it especially if my eyes happened upon one of the many scratches and I'd then remember how that scratch happened and most of my crashes being my fault I wonder how I'm still alive I laugh at my stupidity back then but then almost cry as I remember flying down hills as fast as possible only using the brakes enough to get round corners, the wind in my hair, the sense of freedom and not a care in the world. It's all gone now and yesterday my dad took his bike and mine too. It's a relief to get rid of the bike because it's always been a constant reminder of how life used to be but at the same time I'm saddened. I suppose I'm doing something I need to do, mourning for the loss of what my life could've been. I won't say should've been because I know theirs many good things in my life now that I wouldn't have if it hadn't been for my stupid body falling apart. Plus I were so bloody stupid when i were cycling I likely would've gotten myself killed by now if I could've kept cycling!