A lady came up to me today. She started to cry as soon as she spoke.
She said that she had to talk to me before they left. She explained that for years she’d watched me canoeing the lake, coming back from bike rides and runs too.
She said that she’d been in shock a year ago when told about my accident.
She said that she just couldn’t believe it that I was on an arm bike and was swimming the lake, after being carried in by 4 people.
She said that after seeing me doing it, her husband swam it, having consistently avoided that lake for 23 years.
She told me that I was an inspiration to so many people who watched me doing these things, but maybe couldn’t actually say anything to me, and that she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to say something.
It’s hard for me to think that I’m in any way heroic, but she spoke with such touching conviction.
She was called Beverley, and also said that she’d witnessed the joy in my face as I watched my girls in my kayaks, Lily actually managing to paddle my very, very unstable K1 boat for the first time – no small feat.
She could see my happiness in the realisation that something of me has been passed on to my girls, and that, if you like, my legacy, is still there.
And that I’m alive to see it.