Today, is exactly six months and a day, since I left to embark on my adventure. Exactly six months ago, I took my first steps or rather pedal rotations, in France. Hours after I stood - scared and naive; at a ferry port in New Haven. In that moment, I was suddenly sobered by the enormity of the challenge ahead.
It was a frightening experience, to know that I was leaving England, my home, for the next twelve to eighteen months. It wouldn't be the last time that I would question my choices. But I never felt that my decisions would cause me harm, and in the aftermath, I always felt that they had led to a great experience, and maybe a life changing moment.
I sit here now, with my leg up, trying to bend and flex my knee an inch. Thats just to get out of bed or take a seat on the edge of a chair. The muscle in my leg, feels like its non-existent, as I struggle to even lift it off the ground. I will recover, I just don't know how long it will take, which is the frustrating part.
Its especially frustrating, when I think of the struggles, the blood, the sweat and the tears, that I produced to get to China. The hurdles that I had to overcome. It seems as though they have simply disappeared. Why? Because, it was all to get me around the world, and here I am, immobilised at home home in London. In reality of course, they still count, they were huge achievements, and pushed me to my absolute maximum on numerous occasions. Its just hard to remain upbeat all the time, even when you know you should.
I know that eventually my knee and muscles will heal, and I will be able to get back on my bike. But, not knowing when, is killing me, as well as the worry, that when I finally do, it will be too late. I have to stay motivated and determined.