I wake up hoping my foot would be magically healed. It’s not. It’s still slightly swollen, I can’t really move my big toe sideways (not that I particularly want to for any specific reason) and I still walk with a limp. I consider writing to Danny (guy in charge of More Adventures) to ask if I can change to the August 25 bike event event, remember it’s fully booked, then think about writing to him to say i might have to sit in the van in day 1. Or Day 1 or 2. Or all the days and just join in for the meals. Then I snap myself out of this revelry and decide to head off to pick up my bike. Before doing so I try to call about 10 physical therapists to see my foot, and luckily 1 is free on the day! Not that I think this Physical Therapist may also have a second job as a wizard, but Dr Google told me my case is symptomatic of gout so I was starting to freak out even more.
I picked up my bike and walk (or actually, limp) with it for a good 10 minutes looking for a good place to start cycling. I’m also carrying a 75 liter backpack on my back, so the conditions are primed to test out my foot.
I throw my leg over, cycle forward a few meters, think “This isn’t too bad!” and then get a flat tire.
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At least I was next to the bike shop that gave me this tire during it’s full service, so it could be worse.
So I had two hours and a half to get from Finchely Road in north London to my PT south of Blackheath. I got there with only minimal pain and started feeling quite more optimistic for the bike ride that was about to start in about 12 hours, although still apprehensive about the fact that 5 miles is not the same as 290 miles and 350 feet per day is not the same as a flat road. Vaild concerns.
My PT assures me it’s not gout, bandages my foot up to minimise movement and hence pain, tells me to put loads of ice and continue popping painkillers and hope for the best. So I do.