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@cliveo
This evening the nurses were genuinely excited to see my bottom. As word spread of my improvement the sight had to be seen and in they came. One said that when I first went to them to have the wound dressed three weeks ago, she thought that I would be with them for months and she is amazed by how quick my progress has been. Two weeks ago, I could barely walk for pain. Just over a week ago, I was merrily dripping through my suit onto chairs in conference rooms. And now, things are closing in on finality. From this weekend I move to alternate days which is nice as I will be able to drive down to see my recently widowed mother on Sunday before she goes into hospital on Monday to have a skin cancer removed. I feel bad for not having been to see her in three months but a trip to Poole has been unfeasible up until now. So that's nice. I managed to keep news of my injury and operation from her for quite a while but eventually had to explain my lack of filial support and the news worried her. It will be good to reassure her that I am fine. She delayed her own treatment so as not to worry my father while he was ill.
Anyway, it got better. I got home, switched the rear tyre on my road bike to a snazzy blue one (oh that all new tyres went on so easily) set up my turbo, donned my Grupetto jersey (Grupetto tops are the only ones large enough for my current super obese state) and the self same pair of shorts that I was wearing that fateful April evening (ironically just about the only pair without a hole in them), popped on a pair of Sidis (checking the cleats first) and set up my turbo just outside in the garden and turned the Clash on loud.
30 minutes of steady riding. Not too long and I felt I could easily have gone longer but I had decided to do 30 minutes and so I did 30 minutes and it was really good. Gentle sweat, reasonably raised heart rate and no problem whatsoever from my behind. Gentle cool down after the 30 minutes. That was worth waiting for.
And it can only get better. The road on Saturday.