Glasgow 10 Miles

In the months following my discharge from the Spinal Injuries Unit I felt an inner peace which belied the magnitude of the events of the months previous. So much of life seemed familiar which brought comfort and inner confidence. I was keen to explore my surroundings and for the first time in my life I was being motivated by the gains I was clearly seeing from daily exercise. I had never felt fitter at any time in my life. It all came from pushing myself in my wheelchair everywhere.

I was out on daily fact finding missions. I made it my mission to learn as much as I could about the built environment. In academic terms I knew my spinal unit experience had been foundation level, general principles. In the limited time I had been a patient there I had only scratched the surface of what I could expect to experience outside. It was up to me now following my discharge that I graduated with full honours as I saw it. Time to take the bull by the horns. I was experiencing life now not too far removed from the presenters of Top Gear. Whenever they got behind the wheel of a new supercar for the first time there would always be a corny line to camera. Every morning I took my wheelchair outside I admit I was thinking to myself "Let's see what this bad boy has under its bonnet!" I was turning into a Top Gear presenter. Oh God! 

I often intentionally would go out of my comfort zone in order to experience things for the first time as a wheelchair user. It made for exciting, occasionally unnerving times. Corporation buses were awful experiences. The first occasion I attempted to get on one the driver refused as he "didn't have the insurance to lower the ramp." When I did eventually get on I took up the one space for wheelchairs and prams. It was awful experiencing a parent being knocked back from getting on the bus because I had taken up the space. I didn't take a bus again. 

Train staff could not be more helpful. If I can make a political point here? I know the focus of the media on the current rail dispute has mostly been on Drivers pay. It isn't really about that. It's the likes of the station staff and guards who assist me on and off at each platform, who are unheralded, underpaid and undervalued, who are at greatest risk in this dispute. I have been lifted across tracks when there hasn't been any other means to reach a platform with dozens of apologies ringing in my ears. 

I even took a 1p Ryanair flight to Oslo to experience aviation and foreign travel. Nothing though matched the thrill and enjoyment of getting somewhere under my own steam. 

I was living alone for the first time in my life and I was glad for the freedom this gave me. It was a very personal journey that I was on. While I was in the spinal unit the battle was a very personal one. It was all up to me.There was no doubting that i developed a selfish streak which contributed positively to my experience and the ultimate goal to become fully mobilised and independent. This filtered into who I became after my discharge from the hospital. I admit to keeping friends and family at arm's length for much of this time and when I felt it was necessary. Part of this was motivated by not allowing friends and family to see me struggle. It was a very important part of my coping mechanism. This allowed me the space to make my own mistakes and fend for myself, build a resilience and ultimately restore my confidence in me. 

I was torn about all of this of course. There was a degree of embarrassment on my part being seen in a wheelchair I had to overcome. I also didn't wish to drag friends into awkward situations arising from access issues for instance. I didn't know alot of the time where the nearest accessible toilet would be. It was better I found all these things out for myself. It was all purely for self-preservation. I would choose to see friends and family at home for the most part while I continued on my solo quest for knowledge and familiarity with the outside world. 

Glasgow for its part proved to be by and large entirely accommodating. I kept a mental note of the good and the bad experiences and soon had a ready reckoner from a set criteria of establishments where I felt welcome and those not so much. I kept to the good and dismissed the bad, vowing never to darken its doors again. Bad practice included Disabled toilets as store cupboards, no disabled loo whatsoever, no lift access, tight lanes between tables and chairs, Sports Direct, the Glasgow Underground. Certain concert venues soon had their cards marked. Having this information to hand made meeting friends that little bit easier. The more I knew the more social I became. 

In time I came to know Glasgow like the back of my hand again. There was great joy in rediscovering many parts of the city. Trips to old favourites the Glasgow Film Theatre, the Mitchell Library, Burrell Collection certainly allowed me to reconnect with the city again but the real joy was in the push to reach these landmarks. 

I was broadening my horizons each day with the spirit of adventure and it was intoxicating. I was still in touch with some of my fellow patients from the spinal unit and we were exchanging our experiences and arranging to meet up from time to time. 

I heard from one of my former ward mates that they were having a hard time with the transition back to 'normal life'. They had checked themselves in to the local hospital and after a month of treatment they were feeling up to having a visitor again. I took the train out to see them a couple of times. The street sign opposite the main entrance to the hospital stated it was 10 miles to Glasgow. It was humbling to sit and listen and learn of the issues they were facing up to and the obvious impact it had on their mental health. I tried to encourage them from my own experience since my discharge and stressed how much they had still to achieve and not to give up. 

Perhaps by way of proving my point mixed with the spirit of achievement that was at that time coursing through my veins, I came to see the Glasgow 10 miles street sign as being a challenge. I didn't really know what I was letting myself in for and I certainly did not know the road or the type of terrain to Glasgow from Monklands. I certainly hadn't pushed anywhere near 10 miles in one stretch before. But after visiting my friend a third time and hearing the good news that they might soon be discharged it was a now or never moment when I reached the junction where the street sign stood. Left to the train station, right to Glasgow. It was a beautiful sunny day. There was no hesitation.

I only had the street signs to guide me and I didn't know when or where I might come across the next one that happened to mention Glasgow. I was on the street called Edinburgh Road which didn't exactly fill me with confidence that I was heading in the right direction. I had been to Albion Rovers ground in Coatbridge years before and it was the first major landmark I recognised. I took my chances that the stretch of motorway I was now skirting alongside had pavement all the way to Baillieston. I reached Baillieston and got caught out by a kerb of a school entrance which proved to be too great for me to scale. I got off my chair sat on the kerb and manually lifted my wheelchair up on to the pavement before heaving myself back up into my seat. The clarity of thought was outstanding. I was really chuffed with myself for that one. If I could have eaten myself at that point I think I probably would have. There was no panic. I was beginning to adapt my mind. There have been many useful life hacks as a wheelchair user since to make life that little bit easier. On this journey I was beginning to believe this whole wheelchair malarkey was a breeze! 

I got the whiff of Celtic Park before I could see it 😉 and by which time I was running on fumes. It was exhausting but exhilarating and I pushed myself through the urge to stop. I had set myself a rough target of two hours to reach the city centre. I was dreaming of a KFC and along the Gallowgate and onto Argyle Street I swear i was hallucinating a Zinger Meal. I was in some disbelief what I had just done. In all, it took some two hours and fifteen minutes. (I have just checked Google Maps. It suggests it would take 3hrs 35minutes on foot!) I would think about how I got over to Govan after my KFC. The first thing I did was text my mate back at Monklands. "Mad b*$™©rd!" was the response! He later told me it inspired him. I told him he was the inspiration. 

I enjoyed my KFC. It really hit the spot. A swirl of emotions and giddiness combined with the meal. I sat there in some disbelief - I couldn't honestly say if I had ever knowingly walked ten miles in my life before my accident. I was enjoying feeling on the point of sheer exhaustion again. It was a combination of sheer exhaustion and exhilarating relief I was feeling. Relieved that I was capable of pushing my body to its limits again. Pushing through big stresses despite my obvious and visible limitations. There is no doubt a psychological barrier was literally pushed through that afternoon. Perhaps the first time since my slip on ice where I didn't feel broken.