There are many ongoing conflicts.
Progress has been made in some regards, setbacks have arisen in others.
Mentally and physically in the last month I have been as low as I can remember and undoubtedly the two are interlinked.
Have I learnt from previous mistakes? Have I put in coping mechanisms to control things to stop myself slipping into the doom and gloom? Have I focused on the positives and dismissed the negatives?
Well clearly not.
However I have managed to catch things quicker this time around and for the first time ever, put my big boy brave pants on and have had discussions with hopefully those qualified to deal with these type of situations. Unsurprisingly answers aren’t immediately available, I fear that many needles will be involved in helping to get to some of the answers but the other answers may remain slightly more difficult to pin point and solve.
At least I can now hopefully see a glimmer of murky sunlight though the cloud and drizzle.
The knee is now, to me at least, back to where it was pre the op in February in terms of pain and lack of usability. Consultants have been consulted, physio’s have flexed and scans booked. I have resolved to the fact already, that I will be needing another operation early 2016 as the worst case scenario.
I have resolved in my mind, and it took a while, that I will likely miss all the key booked events I had in for 2016 – mainly because they all fall within the first 6 months of the year, guess no London marathon again, no weekend warrior and no Lakesman.
Some think I returned to quickly after my op this year, too quick to start doing the things I love again, however during the training and racing (aside from the gauntlet where my knee systematically removed itself from normality and I stupidity kept going) I felt no post op pain. During Tenby it was pain management during the ‘run’ to get to the finish, but it was pain of doing a hard ironman being a chubster, not the pain of having a knackered knee. However it seems my falling asleep in a strange position on a plane coming back from a long weekend has put the knee back to the same state it was in roughly this time last year. i.e. a little bit knackered.
I have determined that long term health is a million times more important than scrapping a top third finish covered in snot and dressed in lyrca. I have a very real fear that potentially any sort of triathlon involvement in the future might be limited to little and not often.
This presents an issue though in the other side of my brain. If I am not training to compete or competing then why bother to look after myself? Why bother to turn down that slice of cake, why bother to turn down the chocolate, why drink water instead of a pint with tea? Especially as its Christmas.
The self-harm, which is what it is akin to, has started, been recognised and then begun to stop already but within that timeframe I have felt like a small furry pig for science; within which the experiment could have been called – eat crap, feel like crap, treat people like crap, moan like crap.
Admitting to myself that I needed to talk to someone and then utilising certain people to support this, seems like a small step and I guess many reading this would feel like this is blown out of proportion, however to me it seems massive. No one will know the full extent of the situation apart from my wife however those I communicated parts of the situation to, through social media – those who won’t be mentioned – I thank you for the advice and support you have shown.
I struggle to vocalise my problems and issues – almost like if I say them out loud then it makes them true. Much easier to write it down in a tweet or message or letter – much warmer, much safer. To vocalise things is scary, it’s out there then and can’t be deleted, bad enough with the person I love and trust most in the world, but knee sweating and terrifying for me to do it with someone I have never met before who I want to help solve the problems.
My circle of close friends is slim and the chances of talking about these types of things with them even slimmer. I think I present myself as a big tough man’s man – I probably don’t – but in my mind I do, but often that’s a million miles away from the reality bubbling under the surface.
Like a giant made of glass, filled with melted chocolate.
So I apologise. I apologise for hiding.