"Slow down, you move too fast ..." sang Simon and Garfunkel cheerily.
Well, I haven't had much choice but to slow down lately, though I haven't exactly been feelin' groovy.
For the first time in my life I have been on crutches.
And it wasn't for any sort of glamorous thing, like a skydiving snafu or a motorcycle mishap.
It wasn't even a farming incident, say a collision with a sheep.
It was simply a bung knee.
Just as cycling makes you aware of every slight rise and fall in an apparently flat road, using crutches highlights all kinds of things you don't usually notice.
Heavy doors slam on you before you get through them; lovely looking brick footpaths are uneven and treacherously snag your swinging foot; and I haven't got the hang of going up or down even a single small step - I just have to grit my teeth and put my weight on my sore leg.
It took an eternity to get out of the HiLux with a knee brace on - I couldn't open the door properly because of the car beside, and I had to wriggle sideways across the front seat until the angle was right for my straight leg to go out the door.
But it's not all bad.
I have found out how kind people can be.
Workmates have volunteered to make cups of tea and bring them to my desk, carry my groceries back to the office and generally run around on my behalf.
Total strangers have held doors, given up seats and performed many other small kindnesses, all without being asked.
And boy, have I appreciated it.
My knee is getting better every day.
Yesterday I ditched the brace and today the crutches are only being used for long-distance walking - say a block or so.
I am happily limping around the office getting my own cups of tea again.
Tonight I will feed the chooks myself (though I will just chuck a bucket of wheat and scraps over the fence and let them go for it). And tomorrow I want to visit my bees, if I can wriggle my sore leg into my overalls.
But I still haven't been able to get the sheep organised for shearing yet. There's no way I could get up our hill on a bung leg, crutches or not, and mustering at our place usually means two or three circuits to round up the stragglers.
I won't be up to that for a wee while yet.