Joy In Movement
In which I rediscover what my body can do after long-term illness
Hello!
This VeloMail is a follow-up (of sorts) to Perspective, a piece I wrote in January 2023. As you’ll need some context for Joy In Movement, I’ve removed the paywall from Perspective, so it’s now free for all to view! Click below to read it:
C/W: contains wording and images related to Breast Cancer.
May 2024: Closing Rings
An Activity Award pinged on my watch during my post-workout stretch. I stopped for a moment and glanced at my wrist:
“You earned this award for doing at least one Fitness+ workout for 14 weeks in a row”
This May marks my third consecutive month of consistent exercise. It might not sound like a long stretch to those of a more intense gym-use persuasion, but after dealing with chronic illness for nearly 17 months, seeing confirmation of my efforts in regaining regular movement put the biggest smile on my sweaty face.
Let me take you back to where this all started….
December 2022: The Cold
I thought I could breathe a long sigh of relief after getting the all-clear about my ‘angry left boob’. Once I got the good news, I only wanted to wind down over winter and relax.
My body had other ideas.
That December, I caught a cold. It was not exactly groundbreaking news for that time of year, so I thought nothing of it. I deployed the usual tactics to treat it: get as much rest as possible, down multiple mugs of hot toddies (Nigel Slater’s Classic recipe is the best, by the way), and—though not simultaneously—plenty of paracetamol. The inevitable rescue pack of steroids and antibiotics followed, as a cold always triggers my Asthma.
This combination usually clears it up, but nothing worked. A week later, I got another rescue pack from my GP, as she suspected the 5-day course I’d taken wasn’t strong enough to evict the infection that had assumed Squatters Rights inside of my chest.
The cold continued to linger.
Then, it grew into something much bigger.
On Christmas morning, it was a struggle to eat the breakfast I look forward to every year (a smoked gammon sandwich on hard dough bread with a fried duck egg and lashings of piccalilli), as moving my jaw and swallowing was hell. By the evening, my already diminished appetite was nonexistent. I couldn’t stomach the thought of dinner.
Something had to be seriously wrong for me not to eat Mamma Vélo’s Trinidadian Christmas feast.
I stayed in bed for two days. Chronic fatigue left my whole body feeling like a dead weight. My lungs weren’t responding to the extra drugs, and my inhalers could have been filled with sand for the amount of good they were doing. Even when I kept as still as possible, my heart felt like it was bursting out of my rib cage. My fever-ravaged body had my bedsheets drenched.
By the 28th of December, everything had gone south. I had no idea what was happening to me, but whatever it was had spread to my eyes, which were now severely infected and difficult to keep open and to my right ear, which felt like a balloon was being inflated inside of it. My hearing had also gone.
Giving up on bedrest being the best medicine, I called 111 for advice. An hour later, I was in the back of an ambulance and was admitted to Newham Hospital.
After several hours of multiple nebules, oxygen, pain relief, blood tests, and a chest X-ray, I got confirmation that this wasn’t a cold.
I’d contracted something called Respiratory Syncytial Virus (yup, that was a new one for me, too). Apparently, it’s a seasonal virus that runs amok from October to February and mainly affects children. Adults can get it, and when they do, it usually causes mild cold-like symptoms and clears up in a couple of weeks.
Unless you’re an adult with a long-term lung condition… like Asthma. That leaves you at a higher risk of contracting severe RSV with complications. Complications like developing a secondary bacterial infection - which explained what was happening to my eyes (Bacterial Conjunctivitis - that shit is nasty) and the sudden hearing loss.
Feeling thankful to get an answer on the spot and not be back in a world of waiting like with my boob, I hoped the new set of drugs I was given would put me on the path to recovery.
A New Year, A Broken Me
Perhaps it was the potent combination of strong antibiotics and painkillers going to my head, but on New Year’s Day 2023, I was confident I’d get over having RSV and be back to normal in a few weeks. As a freelancer, I had the luxury* of being my own boss, which meant not having to rush my recuperation to return to work.
(*that’s me trying to find the silver lining. I sometimes miss the days of statutory sick pay)
Every day, the side effects of the antibiotics (grim highlights included nausea and vomiting) were wiping me out, and my right ear was still in excruciating pain and completely deaf.
“In reality, I'm sitting on my sofa in a tracksuit, with The Banshees of Inisherin on in the background. It's not as glam, but that's no bad thing, as I love a tracksuit, and Colin Farrell makes for excellent movie-watching. But I'm thankful to be in my home on New Year's Day, recovering after a nasty infection that knocked several shades out of my lungs, eyes and right ear and put me in Newham Hospital earlier in the week”.
Later that month, I found out how much my body wasn't ready for extended periods of movement when I went out on my bike for the first time since being so unwell.
It was just a small filming session for Chasing The Sun. All I had to do was slowly ride up and down Richmond Road and give an interview while sitting down and having a coffee at Pophams. It sounded simple compared to what we did the previous summer. Back then, I rode around Crystal Palace Park and up Anerly Hill to Cadence Cycles to catch the CTS riders on their London pit stop. But back then, my pre-RSV body was a different beast.
At the end of the day, I was wrecked. Feeling too tired to walk my bike back to Hackney Central and struggling with horrendous earache, I loitered in Pophams with more coffee (how convenient, eh?), waiting for Ian to finish work. We put my Brompton in the boot of an Uber and travelled back home.
I was frustrated and worried about how slowly riding up and down a flat road flustered my body so much. At that point, I realised that I’d be off my bike for a while and that recovery would take longer than I thought.
Cruel Summer
In May 2023, I was still on the merry-go-round of illness and visits to the GP. The Bacterial Conjunctivitis in my eyes had completely cleared up, which was much-needed good news, but other bits of me were still broken.
My lungs and my ability to move without getting knackered were still through the floor, and despite the hearing in my right ear finally returning after five months, it was still riddled with issues.
The infection was still lingering.
I started my fourth round of antibiotics to ‘treat serious infections’ - this time, I was put on Ciprofloxacin. I braced myself for the side effects that would surely come to bite me when these new ones got into my system (an unwelcome return of nausea and vomiting!) and prayed these meds would clear up my gammy lungs and ear.
My GP told me that I needed to 'rest for a good few weeks' to get better. I'd stayed away from cycling since that January jaunt to Hackney, but (and let's not tell my GP about this) there were a few things I did get back on the saddle for that summer: another day of filming for Chasing The Sun with Ned Boulting, a glitzy cycle-style photoshoot with Tatty Devine, and of course, that trip to Paris.
I’d suspected that my ability to ride a bike and exercise how I used to was going through changes, and those days spent cycling around Paris were the learning curve. Although I had an amazing time out there (and I will absolutely return to that city with my Brompton), that's when it really hit me that there had been a real shift in my capacity to move my body. It was like it had forgotten all its previous form and what it was once capable of.
As summer 2023 drew to a close, I was under the care of an ENT Clinic. My ear troubles had worsened beyond the help of my GP, and there were now serious concerns about other things that might have been happening inside my head.
It finally hit me that pushing myself was unwise. I had to respect my body’s need to stop, rest and ultimately, recover. It needed to get to a better place to embrace movement and an entirely new physical comfort zone.
Present Day: Movement Returns
I kicked off 2024, nursing my health hangover. At the start of this year, I had my first MRI scan to get to the bottom of what’s happening with my right ear. The results were a mixture of good and weird news; frustratingly, it’s not over yet. Right now, I’m on a double course of antibiotics (oral and otic - and yes, the side effects are merciless) - but I can’t let this drag me down for another year.
A sizable chunk of my mental well-being is tied up in the joy I get from movement. I find that joy on two wheels (especially since reclaiming that on my own terms) or doing things like walking, running, and strength training. It’s never been about body goals, weight loss, or smashing PBs: the headspace, clarity, and the major endorphin rush I get at the end of any workout has always been a vessel of joy.
So, after understanding that I needed to take things slowly and rest properly last winter, I started rehabilitating my body back into exercise in February. And 14 weeks later, I’ve rediscovered the joy in movement that my body and mind have missed so badly!
From riding an Electric Brompton to spinning on an indoor bike, I feel like I’ve found my legs again. I didn’t think I could ever stretch and flex my body to do Pilates, but 25 classes in, and I’m loving it. Core and Strength training is waking up muscles that I forgot I had and is giving me stability. Returning to running is next, although I need to ensure I don’t aggravate my old Achilles injury before the end of next month, as something else is in the pipeline… but I can’t wait to feel the beat of the pavement under my feet again.
Like I said, this isn’t about aspiring to body ideals, crushing PBs or anything like that - it’s just about JOY IN MOVEMENT!
It’s been a long 17 months (and then some) of ill health. Some parts of me might be broken, but that’s alright. I’m thankful I can rediscover what my body can (or can’t) do. Placing my hand on my sweaty chest and feeling my heartbeat at the end of any form of movement is a reminder that I’m alive… and forever grateful that I’m moving.
Buy my book: Back in the Frame: Cycling, belonging and finding joy on a bike.
I really hope you can ask to be considered for the vaccine after this clears up as this is nasty and due to the experience you've had with it and also with your existing asthma. Oh Jools, what a horrid horrid time, I hope your ear is continually getting better, obviously I am deaf anyway BUT when your hearing is taken away suddenly or something changes from your usual normal, it's such an disorientating and horrid feeling and also especially in one ear. Sometimes it makes my head swim a lot when it's overwhelming to have all the noise going in one better ear!
Dear Jools, I do hope you continue to recover well. I had never heard of respiratory syncytial virus until reading your piece today, and then by a strange coincidence, just after reading your piece, I saw an article about it in today's Mail on Sunday (page 45). It looks like you were singularly unlucky as I learned that RSV "is mostly found in infants but also affects the elderly." There is now a vaccine for it, but only approved for over 60s. Ministers were advised nearly 18 months ago by medics to roll out the vaccine, but no plans have yet been announced to do so. Teresa x