The Growth.
I've begun to think of the mass of scar tissue and assorted junk on my hip as a cancerous tumor.
It latches onto my thigh muscles, hobbling me periodically until I limp along like Walter Brennan in an old Western. Its tendrils reach out until they lock up my lower back, necessitating extensive stretching to snap the hold it has over the region. The tight know wraps itself around nerve clusters, which scream in sharp agony in the middle of the night when I happen to roll over wrong. It weakens what has historically been my stronger leg, making my already ragged pedal stroke an ugly sight to behold. It's kept me from pursuing mood-leveling activities and resulted in me saying things to the wrong people that I would have self-edited before.
Yeah, it's pure evil. It's not anywhere as bad as actual cancer, but its way of affecting my quality of life has cause me to lump it into the "bad shit I wouldn't wish on anyone" category.
The cure seems to be the same thing that led to the injury in the first place- riding my bike. Unlike the opioids the doctors prescribe me to turn me into a zombie and the physical therapy that makes the problem worse, riding a bike is something I'm 100% behind. I can see the slow, positive trend, almost to the point I'm thinking of adding it as a data set in Training Peaks. Instead of tracking peak wattage during intervals, I can track the decrease in how many times I wake up during the night simultaneously cussing like a sailor and crying like a little girl.
I want it gone, so I ride my bike.
I want things to be like they were before, so I ride my bike.
The less of an influence it has over my life, the better.
It latches onto my thigh muscles, hobbling me periodically until I limp along like Walter Brennan in an old Western. Its tendrils reach out until they lock up my lower back, necessitating extensive stretching to snap the hold it has over the region. The tight know wraps itself around nerve clusters, which scream in sharp agony in the middle of the night when I happen to roll over wrong. It weakens what has historically been my stronger leg, making my already ragged pedal stroke an ugly sight to behold. It's kept me from pursuing mood-leveling activities and resulted in me saying things to the wrong people that I would have self-edited before.
Yeah, it's pure evil. It's not anywhere as bad as actual cancer, but its way of affecting my quality of life has cause me to lump it into the "bad shit I wouldn't wish on anyone" category.
The cure seems to be the same thing that led to the injury in the first place- riding my bike. Unlike the opioids the doctors prescribe me to turn me into a zombie and the physical therapy that makes the problem worse, riding a bike is something I'm 100% behind. I can see the slow, positive trend, almost to the point I'm thinking of adding it as a data set in Training Peaks. Instead of tracking peak wattage during intervals, I can track the decrease in how many times I wake up during the night simultaneously cussing like a sailor and crying like a little girl.
I want it gone, so I ride my bike.
I want things to be like they were before, so I ride my bike.
The less of an influence it has over my life, the better.
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