In the same way that kids with special needs often need constant attention, so too does my right knee. The only difference being that i have compress it to keep it tracking properly.
So I can't race the Melbourne to Ballarat this Saturday, which was going to be my first open. I'm disappointed, but also kid of relieved: it looked like a hard day at the office.
The really scary thing is that it is the first tangible proof that my drive to be better at the thing that i love most in all the world, will not be without its setbacks. This isn't a surprise, just annoying.
Thus, as the rebels in Libya supposedly take a firm footing in a key town, supported by ingenious engineering students who have developed remote control jeeps, that draw enemy fire; and as Rupert Murdoch's empire seems to begin it's collapse, all i can think about the future prospects of my right knee.
I've said it before, James, you are a fucking muppet.