Live your potential

Miracles

I used to row competitively at school and university. I loved the sport. The teamwork. The speed and grace of movement through the water. The sheer, utter, physical exhaustion. The racing. Once I'd left college I found it hard to find any nearby clubs but still rowed on a Concept 2 ergo in the gym. It was my favourite piece of equipment with its intense physical demands in short periods of time. I usually rowed 2000 metres and heavens that made a difference to my fitness.

I thought rowing was over after my accident. I did get excited watching the Paralympian rowers. Then I

noticed they were using fixed seats and achieving nothing like the power or speed I was used to. So when I saw that Robin Gibbons was looking for guinea pigs to join a FES rowing study at Brunel University, I leapt at the chance.

FES (Functional Electrical Stimulation) "is a means of producing contractions in muscles, paralysed due to central nervous system lesions, by means of electrical stimulation". Robin has combined FES with an adapted Concept 2 machine so that people with spinal cord injury can row. And not just row with their arms but with their legs too. I've seen a tetraplegic rowing and if I had not known she was paralysed, I'd have thought she was rowing normally. It was breathtaking.

The process starts with FES only, on the quadriceps, to build their strength. I've done some before so knew what to expect but even so, watching my legs move as if of their own accord was fabulous. I have to shock them three times a week, each time until the legs stop moving, and now I'm up to the maximum one hour per session. Robin reckons I'll start rowing with six weeks. I can't wait. I'm so excited at the thought of rowing again, of doing some intense exercise, of using my whole body. It's going to be out of this world.

And if you're jealous, then don't be! Robin's looking for more participants, so if you're interested, get in touch with him!

Dignity and humility

"You leave your dignity at the door". Anyone who's had a spinal cord injury or dramatic accident will recognise this phrase from their time in hospital. With the bowel and bladder complications that follow injury, dignity is impossible to maintain, despite the extraordinary care shown by nurses.

After such a hospital experience, some of the irritation that occurs once you're in a wheelchair is a lot easier to bear. Well, I think so anyway. My transfers from car to wheelchair are not skilled and inevitably my trousers tend to fall below (well below) my waist. Thankfully, I find it easy to ask complete strangers to pull them back up. All are willing though it can lead to some strange encounters: "Oh, I thought you were joking" is one of my favourites. But the best has to be yesterday's: "Ah, I've just seen your wedding ring. So you're not trying to pick me up?". People are wondrous.

The Leopold Hotel, Sheffield

It's about 350 miles from Keswick to Devizes and I didn't fancy driving a long way at night. So on my way back from sailing, I stopped off in Sheffield. It gave me a chance to wander about in the Peak District, a tamer version of the Lakes but still somewhere I've had some great walks and good memories. And I stayed at the Leopold Hotel, "Sheffield's first boutique hotel". It opened in 2007 after several years of renovations. It's built on the former site of a Grade II listed Boys Grammar School and still has some of the original touches. It's individual, central, about the same price as a Holiday Inn and wonderfully accessible. There are fold-down shower seats, bathrobes, masses of space, good height beds, wonderful room service. Fabulous. I'm tempted to go back to Sheffield and explore the city just for an excuse to stay there again.

Tudors and wheelchairs

On the way up to the Lakes to go sailing the other week, I stopped off at Speke Hall in Liverpool. It's a bizarre sight. You approach it off the motorway, go past an industrial estate, the John Lennon Airport and then suddenly you're confronted by an exquisite Tudor building, the like of which I've never seen before. It's incongruous to say the least. A breath-taking building, it's apparently one of the most famous Tudor houses in England. It was originally built in 1530 and is surprisingly easy to get around in a wheelchair too: the whole of the ground floor is accessible. You get to peer at the intricate carving, Jacobean plasterwork and fabulous kitchen. And to get round the impossibility of reaching the upper floors, the staff cleverly produce a large book of photographs so you can see what's there. The grounds are spacious and the cafe serves a variety of locally inspired dishes. I know I'm sounding a bit like a tourist brochure, but I was taken aback by the place. I'd never heard of it, had no expectations, was lulled into a false sense of unexcitement by the approach and was therefore particularly enchanted. If you're ever passing vaguely nearby on the M6, make a detour. It's not far off the motorway, and it's well worth the journey. 

Familiar yet different

I was in Marlborough yesterday for a dentist appointment. I've known Johnathon for over twenty years. And I've been going to Marlborough since I was three years old. I remember the annual fair - the Marlborough Mop - Duck's Toyshop, the Polly Tea Rooms. I was, for a change, early for my appointment having got the time wrong so I had an hour to kill. Good opportunity for a coffee. First chance to explore the town a little since my accident. It's pretty good for wheelies, well, at least the limited bit I explored. As a upmarket town, its kerb crossings are paved rather than concrete. There are more cobbles than usual. And cashpoints are a nightmare. The first, despite offering to serve me in many languages (now that doesn't happen in Devizes), said it was out of cash. The second, Lloyds TSB, was in a beautiful cubbyhole of the listed building - up four steps. The third gave me what I needed.

It was sunny so I opted for a coffee outside the Castle and Ball hotel. Steep steps to get in and a helpful signs telling those with limited mobility to ask for assistance. A nice touch I thought, until I realised that there was no bell or buzzer so the only way to ask for assistance was to lurk at the bottom of the steps and shout in the hope that a member of staff would hear you. Luckily, there was someone at an outdoor table so they kindly went inside for me. But honestly, if you're going to go to the trouble of putting up a sign, why not include a bell?

Still, Marlborough's a pretty accessible town, the coffee was good and it was fairly easy to get round. And at least I didn't have to have any fillings.

Land ahoy

I'm nearing the end of my Back-Up sailing week. My arms ache, my hands are raw and I've had a fabulous time. After years of not-sailing, I'm finally beginning to understand key principles. Most of my recent sailing has been in day cruising yachts: fun but hard to learn in, partly because mistakes have severe consequences. Here in the Lakes the Windrider has been fairly forgiving in the windy rainy conditions. The weather has been poor to say the least and fun for fast sailing. The Windrider has been racing along at fifteen knots, one hull digging into the water, the other several feet into the air. It's been exhilerating. The novice sailors have been out in Access dinghies, unsinkeable keel boats that are very patient. In a high wind they heel right over, water pours in and yet they stay afloat. I found this out for myself yesterday when three of us went racing and spent much of our time at 80 degrees. I won bronze. Or came last, depending on your perspective. There are four others with spinal cord injury, one a leader, one a tetraplegic with a high break. Despite being able to move nothing below his chin, he still managed to sail an adapted dinghy alone with fantastic enthusiasm and skill. Amazing!