I'll take it.

Step two... get on the bike and ride.

Sun is shining, weather is warm, light breeze.  It's an impossibly beautiful day.  I throw my leg over the mountain bike and roll to Lake Ginninderra, just a few minutes from my house.  The earphones are firmly jammed into my ears, playing some music with an energetic beat.  I've managed to lose track of my ipod cable and will have to find it before I can download audio books from my computer to my device to listen to. 

I set myself a goal, four laps, 28km, possibly 30km if you count the trip from my house to the lake.  Let's be honest, for someone who's planning on riding 800km at the end of this year, 28km isn't exactly an inspiring effort.  However, for someone who's wearing a scar close to her heart that's held together with steri-strips, it's not so bad.

I set off at a comfortable pace, angling my weight back to take pressure off the handlebars, and hopefully off my chest.  The lake is popular spot, with a cheerful assortment of naturalists looking for birds amongst the gum trees, dog walkers, joggers, teenagers on BMX bikes, families with little kids on an assortment of scooters, trikes and wobbly bicycles.  On lap number two I quickly dodged the bike off the path and onto the grass to allow right of way to a four year old wobbling along on his bike, unfortunately allowing his egress was not sufficient assistance and the child took a bit of a tumble.  Much to his credit, he'd gotten up and was brushing the dust off his knees by the time I'd gotten off my bike to make sure he was okay.  A concerned dad wasn't too far behind, and a quick "cycling in a straight line 101" on the grass next to the path followed. (I suggested it would provide a softer surface for future tumbles)  A few minutes in, we'd covered the concepts of "look where you want to go, not at what you're doing"  "The pedals are always stuck to the bike, and if you're sitting on the seat the pedal will find your feet"

Before much time had passed this kid was tearning around the grass on his bike like an absolute champion, sitting straight up, without wobbles, and going exactly where he wanted to go.  Fantastic.  Smiles and high-fives all around.  I really hope that kid grows up to love cycling his whole life.

I continued on, feeling like I'd done my good deed for the day.  However, about half way through lap four a final opportunity to do some good presented itself, two older ladies were standing next to their bicycles with a large map spread between them, and their body language making the international signal of "Mate, I'm bushed"  I pulled over, spying a gaggle of those wide-body large three-wheel prams about to enter the narrow wooden bridge across the end section of the lake anyway, figuring that I'd allow the prams to cross the bridge, and pass them further down the track after helping the lost ladies.

Happily, I was able to help them, elicting a "ohhhhh you're allowed to do that!" when I turned the map to face the direction that I was facing before I gave them directions.
"Yep, if it looks silly but it works, it aint silly."
The ladies cycled off on their way, with a list of directions and some landmarks to assist their navigation. 
I completed lap four, standing up out of the seat, and riding my bike over the edge of the gutter to get to the bike lane to head home. 

I arrived home, and noted upon dismounting the bike that there was some level of pain around my surgical wound.  After chatting to a very wise friend who reminded me that there are no prizes up for grabs purely for being in pain, (well outside of the world of japanese television game shows that is) I quite sensibly took some anaelgesics.

So, in summary not my most massive effort by a long shot, but you have to start somewhere, and I've started from much worse places than this.  It's a start, and I'll take it and run with it until I'm as strong as I want to be.