Walk anyone? - In the name of Thiago - Day 2
The start of a new week, the start of a new me or at least the initial tentative steps. I have decided to go on a 250 (or thereabouts) mile walk this summer, which as I write this, sounds like an eon away. The reality of course is that it will soon whizz round. But with every day that passes I’ll have my boy in my mind knowing that he’ll be there to see me through it. Every step.
So I figured that if I’m going to walk that bloody far, I may as well have some decent shoes to walk in. One of the things my sports masseuse mate (see yesterday’s blog for more details), suggested was to get a ‘gait test’ done at a specialist running shop. Am I bloody glad I did.
What I’m finding out at the moment though is that one problem seems to be leading nicely into another. So because I’m fat I need to exercise more. Because my posture is shot I need to take action to correct it. A lot of these things cost money but so far so good. I still feel happy because I’m doing something about it and that is a powerful feeling.
And the trainers I bought today (pictured)? Well they’ve set me back a colossal £130, which is more than double what I’ve ever spent before on footwear. This shows two things I guess: 1) I’ve never looked after my feet properly; and 2) I’m something of a skinflint!
Before all that, my day started off with a trip to Birmingham Children’s Hospital to see the doctor who was with Angelica and I when Thiago died. Richard is an absolutely magnificent man and though we had some difficult feedback to share with him and the cardiac patient liaison nurse Rachel, they listened to everything we had to say and said they’d feedback any outcomes to us. I think it helped me more than my wife Angelica. It was the first time that either of us had been back to Birmingham since our son died at the hospital there and it was very emotional, really tough. But I’m so glad I did it.
After the meeting, I made contact with the hospital charity to let them know about my fundraising walk plans. I wrote them down and handed them over. There’s no getting away from it now, this really is going to happen.
For the rest of the day, I felt utterly exhausted. Grieving is hard work. It’s like something that seems to eat away your energy. I cried a lot at the meeting and that takes it out of you like nothing else I’ve ever known.