2020 and a bit.

The spirit of 2020 is lingering on. Normally by this time I’d have done a blog review of the previous year and another, fresh and optimistic one for the next year. You’re spared that at least. Breaking my shoulder just before the new year is dragging 2020 out for all of this month and half of next. I know it’s only a token date with no real significance in the grand scheme of things, but it is a bit of a downer.

Sad panda.

On the bright side; I had my one week check up and the doctor was pleased with my mobility. I’m starting to be able to let my arm rest out of the sling for periods, but I can’t use it. And the best news, for me, is that this is the first time I’ve been able to rest my hand on the keyboard to type! Blessed joy! How I’ve missed typing with two hands!

The other joy is that I looked online, (well, Wendy looked online to tell me not to) and they said there was no reason why you couldn’t, carefully, continue training on a static trainer. I was already going to give it a go, but that was a green light. After 2 days of sitting around counting the seconds, with nothing to do except eat or try to sleep, I was going nuts. Wendy was looking forward to going back to work to get away from my miserableness. By the third day I knew I had to try something. So, after Wendy discovering it was safe, I strapped my arm to my body and had a go on the bike.

I text my sister and said “I’m giving it a go. I’m going in!

She replied “In sane.”

Success! I have to sit upright and put all my weight on to my left arm, but I can train. It doesn’t injure my shoulder and it burns off my agitation and misery. Happy, happy bunny.

Some ex druggie, now running fanatic, told Wendy “Well, it’s either that or drugs.” Whoa. That was a bit insightful. Anyway, the upshot is I shouldn’t lose any fitness through this episode and I have a tool to get me through it mentally, so it’s win win.

The iffy news is the doctor said my shoulder break was an in funny place. He said there was a 90% chance it would heal by itself, but if not I’ll have to get a plate screwed in. He offered me the plate now, but warned it had potential complications as it’s over a nerve cluster, could restrict blood flow to my arm, and would limit mobility. The only real plus to it being that I know it’s done. I’m going to wait and see if it it heals. At worst I’ll lose another 5 weeks off work then have to have the plate put in anyway. At best it heals, and I start rehab physio.

I was talking to a guy on Twitter who got smacked by a car on his pushbike, smashed his shoulder and had to be plated. I asked about mobility. He said they told him he wouldn’t be able to lift his arm straight above his head. He said he can. It’s an effort, but he can. Just about. After 7 or 8 months, including physio.

I think I called it right. That would just about finish me for triathlon. My shoulder doesn’t look right yet

and it might set funny, but I can already, gingerly, put my hand on my head. I wasn’t doing that for fun by they way, the doctor asked me to. I’ve got to go back for another X-ray in 5 weeks and hopefully get cleared to return to work.

I’ll ask him at that appointment, when I know for sure which way it’s going, about what comes next. Is it as strong as it was? Can I swim straight away? Will I ever play the piano again? The usual.

Or I get plated and start again. Either or. He said it’s 90%, those are good odds. And, unless I move it, it doesn’t hurt. I just took my first painkillers of the day at 21.00 just because I move it when I’m asleep.

I was kicking myself for a while afterwards, obviously. I’ve got a low pressure, fat, wide tyred gravel / mountain bike there. And I rode to work on a skinny, high pressure, no tread tyred road bike/ racer. On ice. Hindsight is 2020 and utterly pointless.

A brief summary of 2020 then, for posterity: It sucked.

My hopes and plans for 2021: keep on keeping on. I can’t plan anything more concrete than that at the moment.

Anyway, here’s some Twitter.

Neo nazi Trump supporters tried to violently overthrow democracy. So the police let them. People rightly compared it to Trump’s response to the Black Lives Matter protest.

2020 was even getting to the stores

Some Dinos.

Bozo announced that his populist, moronic, policy of letting everyone mingle at the peak of the lethal second wave of a global pandemic so he could claim to “save Christmas” has resulted in an incoming tsunami of death. As every single person with a brain cell predicted.

The tories were shamelessly pedaling the line that the 92, 000 they’ve killed (New Zealand dead: 25) were those with underlying health conditions who would have died anyway.

But aside from the ongoing political evil, there was some fun.

And some sports stuff.

I was wondering why my cycling shoes, which are supposed to be wide fit, were still killing me. After a race I’m nearly crying with them. Someone suggested a really obvious test. Take your insoles out of the shoes and stand on them. Tiny. My feet well overlap them. So they are crushing my feet for 112 miles.

Here is what they look like compared to my trainer (blue) insoles.