I overdid the exercise yesterday. Too enthusiastic. Even with an electric motor assisting, the bones grind and the muscles strain. Swimming is one thing, pedalling another. I overestimated my ability and rode too far. I went to bed aching with shooting pains down my legs. I couldn’t find a comfortable position, even with a pillow between my thighs. For a long time I could not sleep and when I did finally, I had nightmares. I dreamed I came off my motorcycle. Not the one I have now, or even that I’ve ridden lately, but the Triumph Tigress 250cc scooter I rode for a while as a teenager. I was amongst a crowd of people I used to work with, but none of them would help me up.
The pain in my legs found its way into my dream, and my left arm was paralysed so that I could not move it at all. Sleep was not a surcease. I felt as if I was awake, which I clearly wasn’t, because of the weird things going on around me.
In the morning I could barely walk and after my usual coffee and light breakfast I crawled back to bed and spent most of the day trying to sleep while listening to my Spotify playlist.
It’s Fathers’ day here in the antipodes and I was hoping for a phone call, or a text, or a Facebook post, or something. I remembered to text my own Dad. I would have phoned you, Dad, but I didn’t feel that well today.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll swim and when I get back I’ll just pedal a short way down to the fish shop and back. I fancy some fish as I’ve been vegetarian for a while.
Barramundi, I think. The best fish available here.
This is just a setback. It will not stop me. No pain, no gain.