As much as broken bones hurt, as much as casts itch and slings bind, it’s the uncertainty that’s left which is most difficult. The hesitation when hurtling down hills – your knees remember the pain of grit on skin, of the dull thuds. The tyre sticking into the rut in the road. The flash as your temple strikes the ground, and, in an instant, your brain rockets along, and think you’re dead.
First time back to Richmond Park, since the accident.
Today is not being a good day.