Learning my limits:

When I was 6... my mum used to let me to walk to the end of the road, on my own, to meet my dad returning home from work. He would smile and then he used to boost me up on to the wall and I would point my toe and pretend to be a tight rope walker. My arms held out straight either side of my body to balance me and if required, I could always reach his shoulder if I teetered and of course I never fell off the wall.

Yesterday, I felt 6 again!

My mum allowed me to walk to the end of the road, all on my own... after being in a convalescing bubble for almost a week I had a quick thrill of freedom.

The sun shone and warmed my skin and a breath of a breeze wrapped itself around me. It felt wonderful to be outside again.

Now I can hardly claim that this was a walk, it was more of a casual saunter... nothing too strenuous with time to be a bit nosey and view the neighbours gardens.

As I rounded the corner I was rewarded by a crew of labourers, stripped to the waist, running laden wheelbarrows up a plank. My heart was all of a flutter... it would have been rude to stand and stare but I was sorely tempted.

I kept strolling to the end of the street and admired a newly finished house extension and then headed back home.

A second longer glimpse of tanned taut torso’s and I was a happy girl! But as mum’s house came into view parts of my body, that I never knew existed, introduced themselves to me with a spate of twinges and tweaks that took me quite by surprise.

So this is the new reality - the extent of my revised limits - I can’t quite walk as far as I think I can, not yet!

This recovery malarkey is a whole new arena for me and I’m going to have to do it properly... if I want to make a full recovery. Which, I do! So tomorrow I shall go out for another stroll but perhaps I should make it slightly shorter this time.