"But you're not properly disabled"
"But you're lucky in many other ways"
"But you can climb F7a, squat 100kg, etc"
"But there are people who are seriously crippled"
Etc etc.
I know all that shit. I also know my own situation and that's what I'm writing about. If you don't think I've got something to write about, imagine this:
- You've been running sporadically for a dozen years, just gentle road runs. You go out one evening. It's a good evening - clot sites don't ache too much, lungs aren't crawling up your throat. You manage 1.5 miles / 2.5 k, maybe 16 mins total with a 45 second walking section in the middle....it's a good evening.
- You go out another evening, same run, it's fucking murderous - legs like lead, lungs like drowning, it takes 2 x 1 minute walking sections and you barely make it.
- You walk in to The Cromlech - the easy left hand way, no rack, just one half rope and everything else minimised, walking poles for aid. 4 rests? 5 rests? 6 rests? Something like that.
- You've stopped speculating on whether this - fitness - will ever progress, because it physically cannot. There is no possible major improvement.
- You go to a Rolo Tomassi / Gojira gig, spend too long standing around, moshing from the waist up. Your legs ache for a couple of days after, you keep looking down and checking the engorged collaterals, hoping they're still working.....because if they're not, there's no plan B, no other venous return.
- You watch your weight creeping up and up and your physical climbing prowess creep down and down - an inevitable consequence of limited aerobic training options, unfortunately combined with difficulty dieting due to digestive issues, and difficulty focusing on remaining possibilities due to depression.
It's now the 10th year anniversary since I was released from hospital after spending a few weeks incarcerated while my sudden DVTs were investigated. A whole fucking decade eh. Looking at the decade, I've done pretty well. I've done some amazing climbing and exploring, some decent training and gymming, one disappointingly singular skiing trip that went great, and a reasonable amount of approach walks all of which have been distinctly inhibited and arduous but I've hauled my rotting carcass up there and usually up some rock face once I've recovered.
As I often say to people about living with this, yes, very minor but yes very real issue: I spend 50% of the time just not thinking about it and getting on with stuff, 25% of the time thoroughly frustrated and pissed off at it, and 25% of the time happy and satisfied that I've done so much despite it.
This year, this anniversary (unlike the first year anniversary celebrating a fairly smooth catching up), the percentages are maybe skewed the other way towards frustration and pissed-off-ness. I'm still going, yes, still on the rock after hobbling in to get there, but things are going fairly mediocrely at the moment, factoring in the digestion and depression. Heavier than ever and as unconfident as I've been in recent years. Probably just a natural lull, but frustrating as I've stacked the odds in my favour with the move to Manchester (now THAT is worth celebrating) and a fairly sensible injury recovery, and not really capitalised on that in terms of proper climbing pleasure. Still, I'm keeping myself going with redpointing bollox (fairly fun and physical), and still aiming for a decent autumn....
