Post Christmas decompression...

...was the order of the day. It was brilliant to get out on my bicycle this morning. And even better to meet Charlotte for three laps of the waterlogged Richmond Park. We pedalled steadily, and I enjoyed every moment of it. Even when the wind picked up after mid morning tea break, and catching the spray off her rear wheel. I can't think of posterior I'd rather follow. I always learn lots when we ride together. I have lots to learn. Following her up the inclines, and along the flats, I aspire towards her seemingly natural balance of pressure and cadence. Right, left, right, left.

It was positively thrilling to don some slightly ill fitting thermal bib tights, and get out in the (very) fresh air. Pure delight having felt confined to the spin studio for what has been too long. Coughs and colds banned me from there too before Christmas. Now, whilst on holiday, I have been making the most of every opportunity to get back up to speed, firstly in the pool, and today, in the saddle.

The park (which currently might more aptly be described as a lake) was relatively empty. Most folk have presumably returned to work (or perhaps hit the sales), and the usual pack of Dynamos were replaced by a horse drawn carriage which made several circuits during our session. We were joined by Jo, and greeted by the odd deer. It was jolly pleasant.

I have yet to download Cyclemeter or similar, and currently lack a cycle-computer on my roadbike. Today it really didn't matter. Charlotte is recovering. I am learning. We make a great pair. We did some good riding this morning, and weren't there striving for prizes. She's collected many of those along the way. I have yet to race. But it is something of an ambition. Having committed to swimming at least 300k in 2013 (not including the open water events I'm hoping to make regular features of my calendar next year), I have some cycling goals to figure out...

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Table. Apple. Penny.

Whilst there were several places I might have been that morning, I wouldn't have been anywhere else. The practitioner from the Memory Service arrived promptly. I liked her instantly. Mum was nervous. I think I was a little, too. It's been a difficult year. "It's Friday, it's the fourteenth of December and I'm at home..." No problems there. CAMCOG, or the Cambridge Cognitive Examination is a thorough assessment tool used to assess the extent of extent of dementia, and to assess the level of cognitive impairment. The standardised measure assesses orientation, language, memory, praxis, attention, abstract thinking, perception and calculation. "Table. Apple. Penny." Three everyday items that were introduced at one point, and then referred to again later on. Again, Mum was able to recall each. I am reminded that the...

Glass half full? Glass half empty? Or perhaps the glass is broken

I am, constitutionally, a glass half empty gal. I will always first acknowledge what I don't have, what I have lost, and what it is that I am seeking. I tend to overlook my strengths, concentrating only on those bits of me that are underdeveloped or weak. I refer to myself as a realist, but in doing so compliment myself and insult those who genuinely are simply realistic. My modus operandi is to identify what's not working and acknowledge this before seeing more clearly what functions perfectly well. This has its place: I edit others' written work pretty well. My fastidious attention to detail serves me, and the author. Accuracy counts, for me and I have an excellent memory. I can remember a great many of my sessions with clients verbatim. Even this asset is something I can, and do, diminish the true value of, by concentrating on 'I should have said...' or 'why didn't.... occur to me during the session?' Earlier this we...

Pausing in the sunshine

And so, chemo is over. My best friend's diary has been chocker... Line cleans, blood tests, scans and 18 weekly doses of the gruelling treatment itself. Summer seems at last to have arrived and with it, we hope, some time, peace and space. She is, we acknowledged over a rather yummy luncheon served to us beneath the beautiful canopy of creepers and climbers at Petersham Nurseries, an inspiration. A small group of us gathered to celebrate her forthcoming marriage. The sun's rays joined the warmth we all have for this very special woman. Warmth and, in my case at least, pride. It is the greatest privilege to call this woman my best friend. She continues to epitomise my understanding of grace. Our bodies are fragile things. Our minds are frailer still. In her composure and wisdom, she possesses an outlook I can only aspire to adopt. From you, dear Charlotte, I learn and I learn and I learn. The ...

The Reward is the Journey

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