I rowed for the second time today. After last week's excitement, I was looking forward to another session, despite the anxiety of whether I could make it to Brunel and back between school run deadlines. But I wasn't prepared for the sheer exhilaration I felt. My rhythm had improved. My posture was better. My breathing was deeper. And I rowed more than twice as far in less than twice the time. Last week, 1500 metres in some 15 minutes. Today, over 3km in 25 minutes.
To see the metres on the dials racking up was a great feeling. But what thrilled me the most was my breathing. After years of rowing and running and fitness training, my lungs are pretty big. Yet post accident, I haven't been able to breath deeply: the intercostal muscles have been weakened and I remember with horror the assisted coughs I was given in hospital (if you want to understand more about the medical aspects, read the article on the apparelyzed site).
It's not so much the feeling of strenuous exercise that delights me (though it's pretty delightful). It's not a returning to my old, pre-injury body that motivates me. It's the realisation that my fitness is growing, and growing fast. One of the main causes of early death in people with spinal cord injury is heart disease and respiratory problems. And every minute I'm rowing, I feel like I'm improving my odds. Yes, I have a spinal cord injury. And yes, I want the fullest, longest, richest life I can have.
