It’s been six weeks since I rolled my ankle and five since I started rehab, and I’m doing my best to rehab like I love it. I’ve invested in a tri membership at my local gym which gives me unlimited access to the swimming pool and spin classes. I’ve dusted off my bike and picked Richard Walks London‘s brains about speed walking. I’ve unearthed my aqua jogging belt and retrieved my swimming suit from the depths of my bottom drawer.
Swimming and aqua jogging are proving to be no problem at all. The pool is quiet and has lane swimming morning, noon and night, and having grown up in a swimming pool I’m perfectly at home in the water however long it’s been since my last visit.
Cycling is popping up in hour-long chunks, easily dispatched with a trip to Richmond Park and thus largely stress-free.
Walking has gone from a tentative 25 min/mile hobble to a comfortable 17 min/mile amble and I’ve even managed (to not come last at) a parkrun.
Which leaves only spin. Spin – HARD. Spin – PUSH PUSH PUSH. Spin – HARDER THAN HARD. Spin – HELL ON EARTH. An enclosed space, 17 other people, VERY LOUD MUSIC, flashing disco lights and maximum effort. If you sat down for a week and tried to design an activity I’d loathe you’d be hard pushed to come up with a less palatable alternative, but it’s rehab so I shall persevere.
Just don’t expect me to mourn its absence when I’m back on the trails.