I am learning new meanings to words I've long used: "trauma" and "recovery."
The "lesson," if you will, came yesterday. I pedaled up to Harbor Island Park (in Mamaroneck) and back. That's a little more than my typical "long" ride to and from Greenwich, Connecticut. Yet it tired me out more than the trek to and from the Nutmeg State.
One reason, of course, is that I have done so little riding since my accident. Until then, this riding season had been one of my best in a long time: I'd been spinning 300 kilometers or more a week since the first of January. I think I had been more than making up for the commuting miles I lost once I started working from home.
Still, I found it hard to believe that I could have lost so much conditioning in less than a month. Whether or not I did, there was another clue as to why I went horizontal after my ride: I realized that I'd drunk the full contents of my water bottle--in addition to another bottle of water and an energy drink I picked up along the way.
Yesterday turned out to be the hottest day I've ridden this year: A bank thermometer in Larchmont gave a reading of 34C, or 94F. And the sun was beating down on me. Even after replenishing my sun screen, I could see and feel my skin reddening.
As it happened, my doctor called just after I got home to schedule an appointment. I complained that a ride "I can do in my sleep" left me exhausted. "Well, you're suffering from trauma," he reminded me. "That's what trauma does to you." Even though I haven't experienced any loss of cognition and the only pain I'm feeling is around my shoulders, my body is still dealing with the shock of the crash, he explained. "Don't beat yourself up," he admonished me.
That is when I realized what "recovery" means: You don't snap your fingers or flick a switch and return to what was before the shock, before the trauma. Recovery is a process, and processes nearly always take time.
Still, I want to ride as I did a month ago. And I want it now!
The "lesson," if you will, came yesterday. I pedaled up to Harbor Island Park (in Mamaroneck) and back. That's a little more than my typical "long" ride to and from Greenwich, Connecticut. Yet it tired me out more than the trek to and from the Nutmeg State.
One reason, of course, is that I have done so little riding since my accident. Until then, this riding season had been one of my best in a long time: I'd been spinning 300 kilometers or more a week since the first of January. I think I had been more than making up for the commuting miles I lost once I started working from home.
Still, I found it hard to believe that I could have lost so much conditioning in less than a month. Whether or not I did, there was another clue as to why I went horizontal after my ride: I realized that I'd drunk the full contents of my water bottle--in addition to another bottle of water and an energy drink I picked up along the way.
Yesterday turned out to be the hottest day I've ridden this year: A bank thermometer in Larchmont gave a reading of 34C, or 94F. And the sun was beating down on me. Even after replenishing my sun screen, I could see and feel my skin reddening.
As it happened, my doctor called just after I got home to schedule an appointment. I complained that a ride "I can do in my sleep" left me exhausted. "Well, you're suffering from trauma," he reminded me. "That's what trauma does to you." Even though I haven't experienced any loss of cognition and the only pain I'm feeling is around my shoulders, my body is still dealing with the shock of the crash, he explained. "Don't beat yourself up," he admonished me.
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That is when I realized what "recovery" means: You don't snap your fingers or flick a switch and return to what was before the shock, before the trauma. Recovery is a process, and processes nearly always take time.
Still, I want to ride as I did a month ago. And I want it now!
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