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It's official- I'm fed up!! - 5th Aug 2009
The last few weeks as usual have been fairly eventful, with quite a lot of different things going on. But the last few days have gone a bit pear-shaped and I’m finding it hard to stay positive…

On a good note, my sister, Ali and I (joined with my cousin) threw a surprise 70th birthday party for my Mum and Auntie. We have been planning and plotting for months, even when I was in Spain, I was doing quite a bit of organising but I obviously couldn’t mention anything, just in case she read my blog. Unlikely though, as she hasn’t got a computer and has pretty much no idea of how to use one! But anyway, the event finally happened on the 18th July and was amazing. Nothing went wrong and everybody had a great time, my nephews performed a load of their songs (and some covers we asked them to do) as their band ‘Stable’ and that went down well too- even though some people wore ear plugs coz they were pretty loud!

The surprise party happened to coincide with the BLCC, which was up in Ratho. I have to admit to a small twinge because I wasn’t going to compete but I think that was helped by the fact that I wouldn’t have been anywhere near fit enough and would’ve probably come last! It sounded like a great event though, it’s just a shame we don’t have a ‘Ratho’ south of the border.

Up til the party I was starting to enjoy my climbing again and was getting up to Yorkshire quite often with Ruth or Neil. I wasn’t managing to ‘tick’ anything but to be honest I was very much enjoying climbing on rock for the movement’s sake and feeling my body start to get back into shape. But with the party happening, I had to take a week and half off climbing while I resided at my sisters down south, which was mildly frustrating but worth it. It was lovely spending time with my family etc.

Once I got back to Sheff I was keen to get back on the climbing treadmill but by this point the weather had really crapped out. The Yorkshire crags were getting wet, although Neil Mawson and I went to Kilnsey on Sat 25th. It was dry enough for me, although the route I’d tried last time I was there ‘The Bulge’ f8a was now wet, so I found myself on ‘China Crisis’ f7c+, which was good but hard. It was a good day though and I felt like I was climbing a bit better even though I’d just had quite a bit of time off.

After that, the weather really was pants so I had a few sessions down the foundry, mainly routes but on 30th July, Ruth and I decided to go on the wave.

Spent a while warming up on easy problems, then was trying slightly harder ones. Then got on one which wasn’t supposed to be the living end but had a grim move (especially the way I was trying to do it!), utilising a crazy heelhook. Anyway, to cut a long story short I was in a very extreme position and there was a bang and a ripping sound in my knee, then numbness. I dropped off not quite sure what had happened but knowing it didn’t feel great. I wandered off to try and get a handle on what I’d done to myself and got some ice from the café. I stopped climbing and was trying to stay positive. So I decided to do some pull-ups and some campussing, which I never normally do. Surprisingly I quite enjoyed myself and felt psyched to do more at some point.

Anyway, I could walk ok and got home and did some more ice etc. In the morning, different story, I could hardly move, it felt agonising and had kept me awake a bit in the night. Now I was worried, so decided to go to the hospital and get it checked out. I was diagnosed with a torn Lateral Collateral Ligament (LCL) that seemed a bit odd but was in the right area of my knee in relation to the sound I’d heard. A bit of a walk with Kodo loosened it up and actually made it feel a bit better, so I perked up a bit. But I now had a major dilemma on my hands; I had decided to go to France on Tuesday 4th August which was in four days- what was I going to do?

Of course the other saga STILL ongoing in the background was the van epic- I tell you it’s never ending. Having already changed the ferry ticket 4-5 times, the plan had been to go on wed 29th July but the van still wasn’t fixed. Now something had happened to the fuel pump. This had been perfectly fine before the garage had it but now seemed to be broken, ahhh! Just one thing after another seemed to be going wrong with the van, I’d get it back for a day or two, realise it was still bust and have to take it back again- I have never been involved with such a protracted period. I originally took the van to him at the start of June (!), after we blew the head gasket on the way back from Scotland and I still haven’t got it back, even though the head gasket was fixed yonks ago.

So…after this last weekend passed without me being able to decide if going to France would be a good idea with a bust knee, my last hope was a visit to ‘super-physio’ Alison Macfarlane. I’m sure this lady has special powers! I’ve never been a great fan of physios but she has restored my faith.

Anyway, she managed to fit me in at 8.30pm on Monday night- talk about cutting it fine- I had to leave for Dover at 9am the next morning.

Anyway, it transpired I was wrongly diagnosed at the hospital (quelle surprise!) and my LCL was fine but I had damaged my popliteus muscle and my biceps femoris insertion into the fibula. This completely makes sense when Alison explained to me what these muscles do. I was doing a very extreme version of trying to flex (bend) my knee and completely overdid it- damn!

So, although this isn’t a major injury and will get better with TLC, the timing couldn’t have been worse. So by the time I got home at about 10pm, I had to digest all Alison’s words of wisdom and decide whether to head for France the next morning.

Hmmm, well hopping up routes on top rope wasn’t that appealing but sitting here moping in the rain was even less- so France it was.

It had been hard for me to get excited about this trip (I know that may sound strange) but with the van saga and not climbing so well and then the knee injury (and also Kodo seems to be developing a problem with her leg which I was worried about)- my head was frazzled and staying put sometimes seemed preferable. But I thought I was being a bit wimpy so pulled myself together and said ‘get on with it’!

Driving to France would be most peoples idea of heaven, so what was I procrastinating about?

So at 9ish in the am we set off. I was dropping Tim off in Luton at a job on the way down, which was nice. We haven’t seen much of each other recently, so a part-shared journey and a bit of chitchat was going to be good. But yesterday was anything other than nice…

As soon as we got onto the Chesterfield bypass the problems started. The van just wouldn’t stay in 5th gear. It had had this problem slightly before but it had always stopped after about 10 minutes. So getting onto the M1 I was patiently waiting for the problem to magically disappear. Well surprise surprise, it didn’t. It just got worse. And the nice relaxing drive we were looking forward to, turned into a very stressful journey.

It just kept popping out of 5th every five seconds or so and in the end, I had to drive it in 4th which was grim- noisy, slow and expensive.

By the time we got to Luton, I was fairly sure I wasn’t going to make it to France. I questioned whether I should just go for it in 4th, take my time and just potter around the country lanes when I was there but now with hindsight, I’m very glad I decided to turn around.

At about 3pm I left Luton to go back to Sheff and at about 5pm I broke down on the M1, yet again. Thank goodness for breakdown recovery!! Although, as off last night I have to say I’m not too impressed. I was left on the hard shoulder of the M1 for two hours before I was picked up. I had a text saying they would get me at 6pm but I didn’t get towed until 7pm. Sitting in the van with Kodo being such a good girl and sleeping and the rain starting to patter on the windscreen, I felt very lonely and sad. I’m not prone to melancholy or self-pity but I have to say I sunk into it then and there. I just couldn’t believe this was happening, the van couldn’t even make it back to Sheffield, thank goodness I hadn’t quested off to France, otherwise I think breaking down over there might have tipped me over the edge.

Then the guy who picked me up told me a sad story about an RSPCA dog him and his wife rescued a week ago and it had basically died of a heart attack because it had pneumonia, which no one knew about. I have to admit in my emotional state, I shed a tear while staring out of the cab window.

I eventually got back to Sheffield at about 8.30pm last night, it was grey and drizzling and all felt rubbish. I had the van dropped at the garage (for the third time in two months!) and Ruth kindly came and picked me, Kodo and my France gear up and took us home. I was dressed for sunny France and this fact pushed home even harder that all was a bit rubbish.

But…in the grand scheme of things none of this is that big a deal. I think I have tried to keep the van saga in perspective over the last couple of months but yesterday pushed me a bit too far. What with my knee and all, I was feeling a bit sorry for myself.

Oh well, Kav (the garage guy) has said he’ll sort it out. But at what cost? It’s already cost us a ridiculous amount this year but we are so far down the line, we are over a barrel and have to keep throwing money at it. Oh well, if I don’t get to France, I’ll save a lot from the fuel costs, which essentially will help pay for the new gearbox that it undoubtedly needs.

Right, I need to go and do some knee rehab and try and look after this injury, so I can start climbing again soon. Hopefully the next time I blog, I’ll be in a much happier state of mind.

Ciao ciao!!