Sciatica, cycling and me
An injury taught me some tough lessons about myself and what it means to be well.
One afternoon without warning I felt pain shooting down the back of my left leg. It was like an intense, burning cramp. I didn't know it at the time, but this was sciatica – a symptom of a herniated disc in my back. For a week I struggled to do anything other than lie down. Sitting was agony, walking extremely painful.
The GP prescribed some strong painkillers over the phone. After a while I made it to the physio. He confirmed my diagnosis and told me it would be something I'd always have to live with, one way or another. It wasn't the news I wanted to hear. This was the winter of 2020. The country was just going into a second Covid lockdown and I relied on cycling and walking to maintain my sanity.
Cycling was out of the question (I couldn't even mount a bike) but walking wouldn't make it worse, the physio said. So that's what I did. Each day my routine consisted of working at a makeshift standing desk, doing my stretching exercises as well as I could manage and then going for a walk. I'd take forlorn wanders, limping around the bare local hills and muddy woods, hoping I could somehow walk myself well.
These 'sciatica strolls' are logged in my Strava account. Scrolling through them today I feel a deep sorrow for my former self. Hang in there, I want to say. You will move without pain again. You will get back on your bike. I know that's not how I felt at the time. When G would come home from primary school and want to ride his bike, I'd hobble along the street and watch him trace circuits up and down the cul-de-sac, waving to him as he passed. It was both heartwarming and heartbreaking.