As soon as possible, maybe days after being allowed home, I took the road bike downstairs, and slung a leg over the saddle. With care and caution I mounted and balanced – at last I knew I could still do it. I turned the steed to the right, slipped up the pavement towards the bike path by the main road, head into the wind. But I wasn’t riding yet, no, patience was required, and weary already I dropped down the drag of the closest side street, changed a few gears, pedalled 500 metres, passed the small playground closest to our house where our children had played many summers and shakily took myself home, sneaking the bike up the stairs back to its seemingly now undisturbed position. Later though, I came clean and messaged my wife that I had done this.

I couldn't stand the rehab. I was given a week or two later – board games, ball games, waiting between tests and events.... the gym was good, made so by flirtatious and helpful assistants who recognised my wish to do it right and to move as soon as possible... but, after a week I made some excuse and took the afternoon off. I felt like a patient there, and I refused to become that. It was all around me – broken misconnected bodies and brains, I did what I could to help, conversations here and there but I was too fragile myself. I was in danger of going down.

The weather was clear, if Berlin grey and I turned once again to the bike path. This time I was going to Schwani. I'd packed the phone, the bonk rations, the emergency repair kit. This was for real.

I don't remember much about the detail of this ride except I felt solid. Unlike the day after my release when I'd insisted on walking home from the doctor's surgery. Then the world had narrowed to a tunnel, one step following another, only one pace whether crossing a road or navigating the busy high street, up the hill, past the mosque, the Russian church, home, to slump grateful and triumphantly knackered at the kitchen table.

Today I was on earth, the forest passed me, the autobahn and railway slipped and flowed away to the left. So far so good. I remembered the little slope at Schwani, got up it no problem, already half way home as I turned and steadily if slow and alone pushed back over the long missed Krone.

I posted note of my success on social media, and was chastised for going alone by a couple of sensible friends. They had a point. But I had to do it, my will was to get back. For the family if not myself.