Nobody Does It Better... Except that Guy.
When I got my clocked cleaned by that Ford Escape a few years back, I was fortunate to recover relatively quickly. I still had lingering symptoms six months later, but the meat of the injury cleared itself up in a few weeks. I was back to work and more or less a functioning member of society again. I did a total of one blog entry during that time period because I wasn't blogging much to start with and my doctor told me to avoid a lot of computer time.
It's a shame, because all I have is faulty memories stored in a mind that was trying to heal to remember that part of my life. Sooner or later they will be gone too.
What I do have are Steve Tilford's blog entries to remind me what it was like. Perhaps because his recovery has been more drawn out and so well documented, I'm able to recall the fogginess, headaches, fatigue, and all of the other symptoms I went through- just not at the same degree. I remember the impatience, borne from the instant transformation from a healthy person riding a relatively high level of fitness to a bewildered person trying navigate mundane tasks.
In my case, I had just finished what to date has been my best year on the bike. I was already focusing on making improvements for the next season when life gave me a cosmic beat-down. I'm only now returning to relatively similar levels, although my fitness profile has changed dramatically. I no longer have the same ability to grind out long hours at relatively high power. A lot of this is mental. I think the part of my brain that allowed me to bury myself in the effort got shut off. Instead, my brain favors short, intense efforts. I'm trying to rebuild that tolerance for monotony, but it isn't easy. The single-minded focus is gone, replaced by "this sucks" and "sprint, Fatty, sprint!!!"
Steve's posts as he navigates his new reality reminds me of my own experiences, how much worse it could have been, and how quickly it could all be taken away from me. The one big thing I took away from the experience was a new appreciation for what I have. It doesn't mean I don't want more (because I'm a greedy, self-centered douchebag), but I know what it's like to look back on what I used to be through foggy goggles, not exactly sure how I went from Point A to Point B.
Steve blogs hurt brains better than I do, which is yet another thing on the list of things he can do better than I can.
It's a shame, because all I have is faulty memories stored in a mind that was trying to heal to remember that part of my life. Sooner or later they will be gone too.
What I do have are Steve Tilford's blog entries to remind me what it was like. Perhaps because his recovery has been more drawn out and so well documented, I'm able to recall the fogginess, headaches, fatigue, and all of the other symptoms I went through- just not at the same degree. I remember the impatience, borne from the instant transformation from a healthy person riding a relatively high level of fitness to a bewildered person trying navigate mundane tasks.
In my case, I had just finished what to date has been my best year on the bike. I was already focusing on making improvements for the next season when life gave me a cosmic beat-down. I'm only now returning to relatively similar levels, although my fitness profile has changed dramatically. I no longer have the same ability to grind out long hours at relatively high power. A lot of this is mental. I think the part of my brain that allowed me to bury myself in the effort got shut off. Instead, my brain favors short, intense efforts. I'm trying to rebuild that tolerance for monotony, but it isn't easy. The single-minded focus is gone, replaced by "this sucks" and "sprint, Fatty, sprint!!!"
Steve's posts as he navigates his new reality reminds me of my own experiences, how much worse it could have been, and how quickly it could all be taken away from me. The one big thing I took away from the experience was a new appreciation for what I have. It doesn't mean I don't want more (because I'm a greedy, self-centered douchebag), but I know what it's like to look back on what I used to be through foggy goggles, not exactly sure how I went from Point A to Point B.
Steve blogs hurt brains better than I do, which is yet another thing on the list of things he can do better than I can.
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