I had a grand day out yesterday. Myself and a good mate went to our annual trip to Knockhill racing circuit to watch qualis for the BTCC.
Insert wax lyrical about how close you get to garages, teams, drivers, action, the smell of the day..everything. for £14!!!! (Purposefully kept short because I could go on and on)
I had so much fun. Bacon rolls and open air chips. Great coffee!
I walked over 9000 steps by the end of the day.
I didn’t use sun cream as it was raining and a low UV day. I still got sunburn. Even though we had cloud cover and at one point my friend was shivering and wrapped up like an Eskimo. My face is a shiny berry with glasses (not sunglasses) stripes along the sides.
I am broken. My pelvis hates me. My calves are in spasm. My back from pelvis to neck is a mess of pain and muscle issues. I am shattered.
So pleasure Vs pain. It is directly proportional to the amount of fun I have how broken I am the following day.
Not happy universe, not happy.
I don’t see why I need to ration my fun and days out. There are not enough pain killers in the world that will help me lead a normal life.
So… Do I lament? No, just vent once in a while.
What I try to do is have a calendar with clear days after an ‘event’. I have to take recovery time into account. I mustn’t have two active/event days back to back. One of the things will undoubtedly suffer. Either holding back on day one to make sure day two can happen, or bust it all day one and usually cancel day two. So, I’ve learnt. One thing a week.
I do hate having limits.
For instance, the first time I went to Knockhill, was to watch superbikes. I was up at 4.30am, we got there early doors and stayed all day walked around a lot (it was tipping down and we got drenched) and had hardly any issues… This is a handy, annual direct comparison of what a degenerative condition is like. This year, lots more sitting down, arrive late, leave early. But I still enjoyed it
I think, if there is a point to this, that it’s enjoy what you have.
This post has been brought to you by a small twinge of regret, but it gets lost in the pain pile so we ignore it.