Learning to live with less mobility: hip dysplasia and surgery
I can’t believe it’s been more than a year since my knee replacement. And if I’m honest, I can’t believe I’m still having to use walking aids of some sort quite regularly. I guess the nice English euphemistic phrase would be that the outcome of my surgery is 'not quite what I’d hoped it would be'. I have to get used to having less mobility.
The medical bit
There is nothing wrong with my new knee itself - surgically speaking that’s a success. And after a visit to my hip surgeon at the start of the year we can see that my left replaced hip, now 20 years old, has not deteriorated as a result. In fact, it’s in great shape for something that’s supposed to have a life of 15 years. My right hip – dysplastic but never bad enough to be replaced – is not orthopedically affected either. However, its rotation has been changed by straightening my leg, and so my hip flexor does limit my knee flexion which is an interesting new twist. In short, my right hip worked better with a valgus ‘knock’ knee to compensate for its limited range. But that’s why my old knee wore out on one side!
In short, whilst each of the parts in isolation is OK, something about the whole combination is more limiting. For the first time in 20 years, I feel disabled again, not just differently-abled. And having less mobility has taken some time to get used to.
Transport challenges
I have written about the social model of disability before. In essence it acknowledges that it’s the world around me that’s disabling. As well as having to use crutches to get on and off trains (high steps, wide gaps, limited handrails, people in the way, time pressure) I also have to consider - and frankly over-plan -any journey. Spontaneity is difficult. I have to think ‘do I know the station I’m going through? does it have lifts, are the steps crowded, can I hold onto a right-hand side handrail not a left-hand side one?’ I have to consider carefully what I can carry; I need the lightest backpack possible and I can’t carry anything in my hands. I can never buy a coffee and carry it on and off a train, I have to pack a flask that fits in my rucksack. When I get to the train, what happens if the seat reservations aren’t working because there are half the number of planned carriages (a regular on East Midlands Trains) - will I even get a seat? And then of course other people are unpredictable, moving hazards; equally I am a hazard to them. In short, any journey is a continuous risk-assessment from start to finish and that makes it exhausting.
I’m lucky that right now my job allows me to work from home most of the time. When I was recently looking for a new job, there were many where the 2 days per week commute into central London meant I didn’t even apply. So many employers these days are brilliant at reasonable adaptations once you get to work, but they can’t control the journey. And being the only team member who doesn’t turn up onsite can be isolating.
Leg length discrepancy
One of the other disabling factors is having to manage my leg length discrepancy. For five years prior to my hip replacement, I got used to having both an external shoe raise and inner insoles but for the last 19 years I was able to just use inner insoles that could fit into most shoes. I’m now back to having just four pairs of adapted shoes and them all being sensible, robust shoes. First world problem obviously, but still annoying. If I’m travelling with a small rucksack I can’t carry a spare pair for evening vs. daytime. And walking with bare feet is no longer an option with one leg so much shorter than the other.
It’s not all bad news…
There are lots of positives here. I’m pretty fit and healthy and with the right shoes and sticks I can walk. I swim well, I still sing, I manage to garden in small bursts albeit with painkillers, I can work, I have a supportive family and partner who does all the physical work when we go camping so I can still enjoy that experience. And compared to many people with hip dysplasia, I am not in constant, chronic pain and I am so thankful for that.
My knee doesn’t hurt much and it won’t degenerate rapidly like it was without the surgery. I have only had one posture-related migraine in the last year, whereas I was having them once every 2-3 weeks in the year before my last op. (The strain of my shoulders/neck trying to hold me steady can give me a headache which becomes so bad I develop a migraine - especially after singing or walking a long way). I’m not missing those!
And with my straighter right leg and the left shoe lift, I am officially taller (well on one side at least). For the first time in my life, I’m the same height as my sister!! It took me 51 years and 13 surgeries but it’s a win 😊
I have lived my life knowing that I can’t always take walking for granted. In the last year I have had to learn to live my life with a little less mobility. But still live it well.
Jill Pringle was born in Sheffield in 1971 with bilateral hip-dysplasia. She has had several surgeries including open reductions, leg lengthening, hip and knee replacements. Her blog raises awareness of living and walking with the condition and to raise money for Steps Charity Worldwide - you can donate here.
Virtual Walking Challenge: 16 miles imagining Edale to Crowden
In the last week since I set my challenge, I’ve walked 16 miles. A chunk of that last weekend, smaller walks each day in the week, and the final 3 miles this morning. I'm walking in Walton but imagining walking from Edale to Crowden on the Pennine Way.
If you have hip dysplasia then little and often is a good strategy (frankly even if you don’t). It keeps me mobile and stops my joints locking up, without too much pain. Right now, in covid lockdown, it’s also a reason to go out and get some fresh air every single day and get a digital detox.
I’m using my daily lockdown walks to complete a virtual Pennine Way – the oldest and most challenging national trail that runs from the Derbyshire Peak District up to the Scottish Borders. To help me, I’ve bought the trail-book by Stuart Greig that I’d use if I was actually walking there – so I can read and share where I would be after 16 miles.
The trail actually starts in Edale. I know Edale quite well and I can picture it clearly in my mind. My partner and I stayed just outside the village 3 years ago, but it’s somewhere we visited on Sundays from my childhood home in Sheffield. I once walked up to Jacob’s ladder as a teenager, but never made it all the way to the top. I remember my Dad talking about how easy it was to set off in sunshine only to have the mist roll in very quickly and you’re easily lost or stuck in a peat bog. I’ve written about Kinder Scout’s historic significance in getting us the Right to Roam before.
Today the Pennine Way takes you on an edge walk around Kinder Scout rather than right over the top and my walks along the river in Walton on Thames this week would have taken me right around Kinder, with amazing views of the dark peak’s famous gritstone outcrops. (in my virtual walk the weather is always sunny enough to see everything, unlike the reality of my foggy climbs on the South Downs Way).
Eventually, 9 miles in (so this Tuesday in Walton) I’d be crossing the Snake Pass. I know this road well, with its breath-taking bends and cliff-edge views that make it a favourite for bikers. My Dad was living at Lockerbrook Farm – high above the snake pass and Derwent dam – when my parents met, so it’s an area I cherish for more than its outstanding beauty.
The rest of my mid-week walks would have taken me just over Bleaklow Head, and so this morning, my 3-mile walk - which took me along the river from Walton past Sunbury Lock towards Hampton Court - would have been a much steeper descent down to Torside reservoir and then crossing the Woodhead pass to end in the village of Crowden. Somehow magically someone would have set up my tent in the campsite and I’d be having a cuppa and some ginger nuts right now with my boot-free feet on the grass.
Clearly, my walking has been much easier than the virtual trip I’ve just taken, as it’s predominantly flat and there are plenty of places to stop and sit, and I’m never that far away from home and a cat waiting to sit and relax on my lap. But it’s still walking – which not everyone can take for granted.
Thanks for following, for reading and to everyone who’s donated to Steps Charity in the last week. I’m so very grateful for your support!
Unlocking my lockdown joints with a 5K walk.
This morning I just needed to get walking again. Whilst I have walked 30 minutes locally every day through lockdown, I can feel how tight my joints are and my unusual gait is more pronounced. Which means my muscles are working harder - and they ache. A lot.
I know there are two things which, in combination, help me manage my hip dysplasia and painful knee: Swimming and Striding. Since I still can’t get into the pool to do the laps I love, I decided to pack my poles, don my walking boots and drive to somewhere I could walk a bit further, and a bit faster with the help of the poles. My target was to walk 5K – to also support my friend Caitlin Limmer and the Bearcat Running Club as today was supposed to be the annual Turks Head 10K.
Just before lockdown I moved from Twickenham to Walton-on-Thames. So it took just 17 minutes to drive to Ockham Common, park up, and start walking through the woodland. It was just what I needed! As I got out of the car I could hear the birds and smell the trees (the recent rain really helped) and I immediately felt my body relax. And I was surprised how quickly, with the help of my trusty poles, I was able to get into my stride.
I love woodland walks. I’m always reminded of walking with my parents up to Lockerbrook Farm above Derwent Water in the Peak District. Thankfully today was much flatter but equally beautiful.
I’ve never been to this Surrey Wildlife Trust land and was struck me most was the variety of terrain. I took a path through the bracken, under the tall canopy of deciduous trees and quickly got to the edge of a lake. There I could see baby frogs hopping towards the water through the rushes. I made my way into the forest along wooden planks above the bog, and into the beautiful English woodland. Here amidst more bracken were beautiful rhododendrons in dappled light. Eventually I reached a small road, across which was the most amazing wild-flower meadow. I stood and watched the butterflies playing with the tall daisies in the morning sun. I made my way back through the woodland to the car but since I’d walked less than 4K I decided to take another path. And I’m so glad I did. Here I was amongst tall conifers and walking uphill on fine, chalky ground, to a clearing. And the landscape changed again. Suddenly I was amidst heather, birch saplings and small Christmas trees! And a big sky.
After a round loop I made it back to the car having walked over 5K. It was enough to stretch my joint, but not too much for a first outing. I have managed to book my first osteo appointment in 2 weeks’ time and hope to start swimming in July to really re-align my body.
Because now I have the walking bug again. Which feels simply wonderful.
The Freedom to walk differently. Diff-abled on tour!
Today I walked the Freedom Trail in Boston. It’s a 2.5 mile walk that passes 16 nationally significant historic sites from meeting houses to burial grounds and a ship, that tell the story of the American Revolution and beyond. And I did it backwards (by this I mean I started at the end, not I walked backwards!)
Why? Walking with hip
dysplasia can be tiring. Or more precisely, for me, the time between
feeling OK and feeling like I’ve walked too much and need to stop, is a very
short window. So I’ve learned to plan my walk so I’m closer to home when I’m
more tired. Or at least closer to places I can rest and people who can help me.
It was wonderful to walk a trail again – it’s been 5 months since I finished the South Downs Way and I’ve missed it. I was glad that today’s Freedom Trail was just 2.5 miles not 100! Not least because my right hip (the one that hasn’t been replaced and is also DDH) is hurting me more these days, I’m conscious of the pain in a way I haven’t been for some years. And so I was slower than usual, my differently-abled gait more pronounced. But I really wanted to walk – I hadn’t had chance to do anything last week to mark Hip Health Week and I’d just seen on Facebook that Steps Charity is 40 years old in 2020!
It was a beautiful sunny day as I started at the Charlestown
Navy Yard. Sadly The USS Constitution
Ship was closed but the walk over the Charlestown bridge gave me an amazing
view of both the ship and Boston. I most loved walking around the Italian quarter
at North End. The architecture is
closest to what I love about London (old brick houses, beautiful churches) and
I loved the buzz of the streets full of pizza and seafood restaurants and
people living their lives. A few of the people
on the same holiday tour as me were walking the trail in the other direction
and it was lovely to see familiar faces along the route. It reminded me of Sunday morning walking with
the Bearcats.
But the highlight of this Freedom Trail is actually the juxtaposition of the old and the new. The old South Meeting House built in 1729 as a puritan meeting house where Benjamin Franklin was baptised, or the old State House – right amidst the sky-scrapers of downtown Boston. Just like me, a 48 year old right hip that doesn’t rotate fully, next to a newer metal hip that works perfectly.
Together, somehow, they work to keep me walking, giving me the freedom to walk differently, wherever I want to.
Adult DDH: walking and talking with different abilities
Last weekend I walked another 14.5miles, and on the first day I was joined by two friends. I was born with hip-dysplasia and it was obvious immediately that my hips weren’t normal. I knew nothing of Adult DDH until I found Steps Charity last year. It turns out that many people are diagnosed in their 20s and 30s rather than as children, as hip checks for babies don’t always catch DDH – as was reported recently by the BBC.
On day one of this walk I set off from Pyecombe and walked the
three miles uphill to Ditchling Beacon – one of the most popular parts of the South
Downs Way. There I met Sam Beale – who had
contacted me after reading my blog last year.
Sam supports Steps Charity and was diagnosed with DDH in her early 30s –
almost three years after experiencing hip-pain mid-way through pregnancy. You can read more about Sam’s
story here and what strikes me most is how long it took to get a diagnosis
of Adult DDH. As Sam said to me, a
common problem is that doctors think you’re “too young for joint problems” so don’t
think to look for so many conditions and especially hip-dysplasia. After 3 years
Sam had a PAO; surgery which breaks and re-aligns the pelvis in three places and
takes considerable time and pain to recover from.
Sam and I walked along the ridge of the Downs from Ditchling
Beacon towards Black Cap with her joyous dog Amber darting to every passer-by to
say hello. It was a clear and sunny day
with spectacular views to surrounding villages and even out to sea. It was so amazing to meet someone whose story
of diagnosis is so different, and yet we have so many shared challenges. Like walking downhill (if you have DDH it’s
unlikely that “it’s all downhill from here” is motivating). Or squatting exercises in the gym (hip
dysplasia comes with flat as a pancake buttocks). Or simply trying to judge how far you can
walk without being in pain the following day.
For the second half of my walk I was joined by my good
friend Hayley Manning. Hayley and I sing
together, and she also writes a blog about
grief and loss. She is currently training
for a three peaks challenge to raise money for Child Bereavement UK. What I
love about Hayley is her ability to really connect with people and it was
lovely to share part of my walk as she trained for hers. We sat at the ridge of
Black Cap eating sandwiches and putting the world to rights (obvs) before
making our way downhill to enjoy a cuppa at Housedean Farm where I was staying
overnight.
One of the things we talked about was the reaction adults
vs. children have to people who are different.
I recently heard a brilliant programme on BBC
Radio 4 about awkwardness – and how managing other’s reactions and awkwardness
is one of the hardest challenges differently-abled people face because as
adults we’re trained not to ask the obvious questions that a child would. Kids
aren’t awkward – they see something different, they ask why, and they accept
the answer.
I felt very blessed to have had two such wonderful people to
share my walk, and I’ll be posting a social walk shortly to invite others to
come and walk with me as I reach the end of my challenge.
Day two I walked alone. Although it was predicted to pour
with rain all day actually I just got intermittent drizzle. Heading uphill from the A27 I was soon on the top
of the ridge. OK, so when I say soon, I
mean it took me over an hour. I was
passed (four times) by a couple who were training for the Beachy Head Marathon
by running up and down the hill, and it was lovely to chat to them about what
we were each training for. Different-abilities,
different challenges yet each of us were pushing ourselves to the max in the
same great landscape. I then had a
thrilling walk along the ridge – views of pretty churches towards Lewes one way
and chalk cliffs and the sea the other.
I ended my walk in Southease – a chocolate-box hamlet with thatched
cottages around a village green. I was
in some pain and it’s taken me 2-3 days to stop hobbling, but I felt good.
I believe that we are all differently-abled and we
can all challenge ourselves to grow. I never
thought I would walk this far, yet here I am – over 80 miles of my challenge done
and just 3 days walking left.
I’ll be doing that in mid-late October and I’ll post the dates and times. I’m hoping to invite others with hip-dysplasia – young or old – to join me for a couple of miles in the valley around Alfriston where the path is much easier. Then I will head over the Seven Sisters to Eastbourne. I hope to see people of all abilities there and if you’re interested message me or comment here and I’ll let you know where and when.
Until then, much love to everyone out there who has helped me get this far. I couldn't have done it without your support xx
Jill Pringle is walking to
raise awareness of hip dysplasia (childhood and adult DDH) and raising money
for Steps Charity. If you would like to donate please do so
here - £5 would provide a full information pack to the family of someone newly
diagnosed.
Route 66? Finding my DDH rhythm at Devil's Dyke.
Yesterday I made it to the 66-mile mark on the South Downs Way. I'm walking to raise awareness of hip dysplasia - a condition like over 1 in 1000 people that I was born with. The last couple of walks have felt quite hard; very hilly and, at times hot weather, and it's taken grit and determination to get me through them. Yesterday was different. I set out to walk from 5 miles from Upper Beeding to Devil's Dyke, but actually made it another 3 miles to Pyecombe.
So what made the difference? Tea. You can take the girl out of Yorkshire....
Actually, it just happened to be a perfect day for walking. Like most stretches of the South Downs way, it started with a 200m climb - from Upper Beeding to Truleigh Hill. It was bright and breezy and afforded marvellous views from the offset. It so happened that on this walk - which is in one of the most accessible and therefore popular parts of the South Downs Way - there were nice, evenly spread opportunities to take a rest and have a cuppa. And the first of these was at the YHA Truleigh Hill where the sign that said "Tea and Cake" deal lured me in to their cafe to chat to other walkers and cyclists. Of course many of them were doing the South Downs Way in 3 days (by bike) or 8 days (on foot).
For me it's a bit different. I'm having to 'chunk' it. It's a bit like whenever I've had a programme at the gym. Once we get past the Personal Trainer inevitably thinking they can 'fix' my hip dysplasia by strengthening my core so suggesting I squat and twist with a Russian Ball, we get to the point were it's clear that the best path for me is little and often. More sets with less reps in each means I have plenty of rests between sets to make sure my body is properly aligned and re-align it if I need to. It's the same for me when walking - as I learned two walks back when I walked way too far. For me, the stops are as important as the starts.
I had planned to walk to Devils Dyke where there are plenty of buses back to the train in Brighton. But I was in rhythm yesterday, and there were plenty of places to stop, sit, re-align, and take in magnificent views. On the hillside above Fulking I laid for 10 minutes and listened to the wind. It was just like the opening soundtrack to The Sound of Music (a fave film) as the breeze whipped through the Austrian Alps. Shortly after this I saw The Devil's Dyke pub and thought - that can't be it already! For the first time I was disappointed to get to my destination. And then I spotted that if I kept going another mile or so, there was a second tea shop. Which of course was too good an opportunity to pass. In my family, tea is a religion.
And so I kept walking, past the Devil's Dyke itself, through a landscape of thorny trees that reminded me of being on Safari in South Africa and the type of habitat that Rhinos love.
Clearly the wildlife I passed were dogs and sheep (and a few goats this time) but after a steep descent I was at the National Trust Saddlescombe Farm drinking Rooibos - South Africa's favourite tea! After this brief stop I then made my way up over the last hilltop where I couldn't help but sing a bit of 'Climb Every Mountain' to the sheep - and then down to the A23 at Pyecombe. I jumped on a bus back to Brighton very proud to be in my walking rhythm, 66 miles into my Route.
Jill Pringle is walking to share her journey with hip dysplasia (DDH). And is also raising money for a charity called Steps along the way. If you'd like to give just a few pounds for this charity which helps families of those born with hip dysplasia and other lower leg conditions you can do so here.
Over half-way. Looking back on our right to roam.
One week after my most difficult walk, I was back in the Amberley valley feeling much more relaxed. This walk was to be an exciting one, because it took me past the half-way point of the South Downs Way.
It was a very hot Friday as I climbed high above Amberley. When
you’re heading for a destination it’s very easy to focus only on where you’re
going, but on this walk in particular most of the spectacular views were when I
stopped and looked back at how far I’ve come.
It seems like only yesterday when I decided to challenge myself
to walk the South Downs Way, but it was almost 18 months ago that I had the mad
idea. I was in the Peak District,
finding it hard to climb a hill, and thinking back to my childhood atop dad’s shoulders
on the moors near Sheffield.
Despite my hip dysplasia, we would be out walking as a family most Sundays. Dad was passionate about public access to land. Looking back further to just before my Dad was born, Kinder Scout in the Peak District was actually the location of a mass trespass in 1932 that ultimately led to the right to roam movement and the formation of Britain’s first National Park. More National Parks followed and the South Downs National Park is actually the newest. Imagine a world where we couldn’t get out into the fields, the forests or the moors? I’m grateful to those who walked before me and gave me this right to roam, as slowly as I like.
Day one of my two-day walk was definitely easier than last
week. It was just over 6 miles, but it
was still a slow walk due to the heat, with very little shade on this part of the
Way. Even stopping for an energy snack
or a sandwich was invariably sitting out in the full force of the sun. Of course, the bright sunshine made the views
back over the Amberley valley quite spectacular – every colour imaginable lay
behind me – green downs punctuated by sheep, brown cornfields and a meandering
river like something from a turner painting.
Sadly, there’s no set marker at the half-way point, but the pictured
signpost signalled that I’d passed it two miles back!
It took me five and a half hours in total to make it the 7 miles through farm fields to the A24 water tap (and I was parched by the time I got there) for the turn off to Washington. I was staying in a small B&B called Holt-House – which turned out to be a gem of a place due to its wonderful host, Anne who understands what true hospitality is all about. She welcomed me into her home and beautiful garden for an evening of much needed rest and wonderful conversation.
I departed after breakfast for day two, and climbed up the
steep track from Washington towards the Chanctonbury Ring. Today was more overcast and a perfect walking
day – able to see for miles yet feel a cooling breeze. I enjoyed every minute of this walk not least
due to the sheer number of people out even early in the morning. Whether they were cycling, hiking, jogging, trekking
on horseback or just out walking the dog, everyone was enjoying the spectacular
views from the top of the ridge. I was compelled
to sing a little bit of ‘let’s go fly a kite’ as I wandered across the top of the
moors. I felt so free. This is what the march
for public access was all about.
I was wearing shorts and so my strapped-knee was fully visible
and many of the people I passed asked me how I was injured (the limp is also a
bit of a give away). It was nice to tell
a little of my story and why I’m doing this walk – sharing just how common hip
dysplasia really is and how it’s affected me.
In the end I felt so good that I walked an extra two miles, not turning for Steyning but walking on to Botolphs. Here I was also reminded that not only do our National Parks give us the right to roam, but they are also home to many working farms who produce our food day in, day out. I’ve been used to talking to the sheep, or navigating cow-herds, but today I also passed pig farms, and sows suckling their new litters of piglets. I was saddened to see signs having to remind walkers or cyclists to close the gates, keep dogs on leads and not feed the pigs – a sign that we humans take for granted our right of way without an understanding of the negative impact we can have on those who live there and conserve this land.
Breaking the walk into two days made all the difference to my
enjoyment, and so that will be the plan until the end. Because I am, amazingly, over half way (58
miles down!) Sadly, in this part of the world,
it’s not all down hill from here though!
Until the next time….enjoy your right to roam in England’s
green and pleasant land.
As well as walking to challenge myself I’m also raising
money for a small charity called Steps. Like me, many people are born with hip
dysplasia and other lower leg conditions, and Steps support those individuals
and their families. I’m trying to raise £3830 which would be about £1 for every
step I walk on this path. If you’d like
to support me just a little please click
here.
A step too far….Cocking to Amberley
Yesterday I walked 11.5 miles of the South Downs Way to Amberley.
It’s always difficult to know our limits and of course we don’t know what they are until we find them. As a child with hip dysplasia I definitely used to push myself – I remember jumping off the top of garages along with the other kids on the estate or climbing the A-frame in P.E. class to the nervousness of onlooking teachers. As an adult, post-hip replacement, I’ve become more cautious and protective.
I’m not saying the route so far has been easy – it really
hasn’t. But since the very first day of this walk, where it was longer than
expected, I’ve become accustomed – if not comfortable – walking about 6 miles
at a time. Yesterday I left Cocking Down
to see how far I could walk towards Amberley. This stretch is one of the most accessible by
public transport. The 60 bus from
Chichester Station stops right where I left off last time, and the South Downs Way
passes Amberley train station in Houghton Bridge. Sounds easy.
After a week of heatwaves, Friday was a nice 24 degrees,
slightly overcast, with a breeze and occasional drizzle; a perfect day for
walking. I packed plenty of food and
water but didn’t need a lot of layers which kept my bag small which is always a
consideration for me. Carrying anything
totally changes the delicate balance of bio-mechanics that let me walk.
The path climbed quickly up 220m to a ridge which is where
this walk stays for most of the route - high above the world with stunning views
of the downs. Walking along the edge of Heyshott
Down I was in familiar territory – saying hello to sheep, enjoying the birds flitting
in and out of pretty hedgerows, and taking the shade of intermittent forests to
one side or the other. This is the quintessentially English countryside of
American movies.
But quite quickly I could tell how tired I was. The night before was so hot I’d not had much
sleep, and my body wasn’t fully rested.
And today that meant I had to take more breaks than usual. I have learned that the best thing for me is
to lay on my back (with trusty inflatable pillow under my head) and knees
bent. This allows my pelvis and back to re-align
from the backward-tilt position it uses to stabilise my walking with flat-as-pancake
glutes; a tell-tale sign of DDH.
On the down-side this made the walk slower (in the end I walked
for over 8 hours…more of that later). On the plus-side, I had some amazingly
mindful moments resting under rustling tree canopies. The most magical of these
was near Graffham Down Nature Reserve, beautiful unfenced fields of wild flowers,
shrubs and trees to protect and encourage our natural wildlife. The only
challenge here was not to drift off to sleep…
I’d left Cocking at 12 noon – later than usual due the public
transport connections (if you’re on the 60 bus push the bell early or you end
up right down a steep hill in Cocking before you’ve even started!). So, by the
time I got to down from the ridge to the A285 near Duncton, it was already
3.30pm. And here, I had a choice - stick or twist. Stop and call a bus on demand (helpful service
but only every hour and a half and I’d just missed one) or keep going on to
Amberley. I literally dithered for what
seemed like a very long time (about 15 minutes) but with the help of some trusty
malt-loaf and butter, I took the decision to push on. I would never know how
far I could go until I tried.
The first reward was a slow but fairly steep climb back up
to the ridge and Bignor Hill. And by the time I was up the hill I was already
regretting my choice. I sat for a while on
a rare bench overlooking the National Trust Slindon Estate
and enjoyed the amazing vistas over the Downs in every direction. It made the
climb worth it but I was painfully aware that I still had about 5 miles to go
and it was nearly tea-time by now. My pace was slow – the paths are good and
straight but chalky and rocky, so you do have to watch your footing. Suddenly
my protection mindset started to kick in – twisting an ankle up here would be pretty
tricky.
A few hellos from dog-walkers and cyclists at the NT Slindon
car-park; I have to say I love meeting different people on this walk – it reminds
me of Yorkshire where people say hello! I then ended up on the most tricky part
of the path. A very steep, winding
descent on a rocky chalk path down to some barns. I always know when it feels
too hard because I start ‘coaching’ myself out loud. So there I was, jabbering my way down the
hill watching my steps. I stopped admiring the view and started counting my
steps and saying “one step at a time, Jill – you can do it”.
At this point, I also had to turn off my phone which was running
out of juice as was the back-up battery pack. I still had 4 miles to go and I
was starting to feel isolated and question whether I’d get there. Everything
hurt. My body was telling me that my hips, legs and shoulders couldn’t keep
going and my mind was telling me to keep going and get to a village. Like most
DDH’ers, learning to walk isn’t intuitive but a deliberate process. This moment
reminded me of learning to walk again after my hip-replacement and I thought,
if I could do that, then I can do this.
Descents are the hardest thing for me and of course this
walk ends with a long, slow descent down past the A29 and on to Houghton Bridge.
As I crossed the A29 I watched the 7.17pm London train pull out of Amberley Station
and I set myself the goal of getting the next one. Even in immense pain, feeling so lonely and vulnerable,
I had to stop for a minute and look at the amazing view as the valley of
Amberley spread out in front of me. It was
late afternoon and simply magical.
I walked myself, one step after another, down the hill - remembering why I’m doing this: “not everyone can take walking for granted”. I don’t know how long I will be able to, but I can still do this – pain and all. I was exhausted as I got closer to Hougton Bridge, and by now I wasn’t just talking to myself but also my cat, my father and anyone else whose support I needed to get there! I must have looked a sight :-)
I got to station approach at Amberley just as the train
left. I missed it by 3 minutes. I burst into
tears. I was so exhausted that I didn’t stop to recognise my achievement. I had
walked 11.5 miles, the longest I ever have, and I had made it.
After catching a train the other way to Barnham 20 minutes later, I found a train to Clapham and then back to Twickenham where I live. I got home just before 11pm to the most delicious meal and cuppa made by my partner who was supportively waiting. I had left home at 8.15am. Needless to say, I slept well last night and I’m very tired today.
Whilst there is satisfaction knowing that I’ve now completed
over 46 miles of my 100-mile trek,
I also found my limit yesterday.
I think the next leg will be like my left one - a bit
shorter!
Walking when it's hard to breathe
I just got back from a swim to try and reset myself from my latest walk, two days ago. As well as my right knee getting more and more painful, I’ve had some unusual pains recently – the hitching on the right-hand side seems to be affecting my ribs which despite two osteopathy appointments won’t crack back into place. So my ribs are sticking into my diaphragm which is making it hard to breathe.
May is #NationalWalkingMonth and on Friday I walked the 7.5 miles (12K) from Harting Down to Cocking Hill, which takes my total so far to 35 miles. I’m trying to walk 100 miles of the South Downs Way to raise awareness of Hip Dysplasia (DDH) – a condition I was born with – and raise money for a small charity called Steps who support children and adults often newly-diagnosed with the condition.
It was actually a perfect day for walking; very light
drizzle so not too hot, but not so wet you have to wrap up in lots of clothing
or be careful not to slip. I think one
of the reasons my body is hurting is because life has been a bit stressful
recently. And like all of us, I tend to
hold that stress in my body and it finds the weak spots. And anxiety also makes it harder to breathe.
Of course, stopping and breathing is a great way to relieve
anxiety. It’s the fundamental basis of
Yoga and many forms of meditation - connecting body and mind. And so, my walk on Friday was a workout for
both.
I started where I left off at the top of Harting Down. I’d caught a cab from where I was going to
finish, as I knew that today I’d have to take my time. Not least because I’d forgotten my poles so I
was having to do it unaided.
This walk was a lovely one, I’d highly recommend it for
people looking for a good day walk.
There was so much variation of scenery and of nature. Vast grassland atop chalky hills led quickly
into woodland of all types – some deciduous, some evergreen. Paths that went through sheep-studded farmland
suddenly turned into tracks through flowery meadows. From the top of the hills you can see the
Isle of Wight (although again I picked a day that was a bit misty so alas not
that far from me). But it was still
spectacular as you can see from the gallery. What was fantastic about this walk was that
this amazing British countryside seemed to change mood every half an hour as it
changed landscape. And each change gave
me the chance to stop and breathe. And
having to stop and breathe more in turn gave me more time to take in my
surroundings. In short, I was more
present.
I almost didn’t go walking that day. I’d wanted to book two days but due to an
event at Goodwood, polo near Cocking and a local village fete all in the same
weekend, finding accommodation anywhere except the most expensive hotels was
impossible. But somewhere inside I knew
I needed it. Time to be. To walk. To
breathe. And to recognise that whatever I go through, I’m strong enough to face
it.
As always I met some lovely people along the route. Usually they’re passing me as they’re
obviously faster - and everyone stops and says hello. It’s common to share why we’re walking and
how we’re doing ‘The Way’. I met a couple
who were doing a series of day trips around visiting family, another who saw me
panting at the top of a hill and said “more South Ups and Downs Way isn’t
it?!” And a man towards the end of the
route who was walking the whole thing in 8 days for his holiday, and we talked
about the mental health benefits of walking alone.
In terms of pace my fitbit was tracking about 18 minutes per
kilometre instead of my usual 12. It was
less that my walking pace had slowed but the fact that I kept stopping and breathing. And it turned out that was just the obstacle
I needed to get the most out of this walk.
Jill Pringle is walking the South Downs Way to raise money for Steps Charity – because not everyone can take walking for granted. You can donate here and help families who are newly diagnosed with conditions like hip dysplasia, which Jill was born with in 1971.
An early Spring in my Steps…
I've taken a break from walking the South Downs Way for the last four months. Today I decided to spring into action and get back on the trail from Buriton to Harting Down.
Whilst I’m sure I missed some breath-taking views of the South Downs in Winter, I have learned that snow and ice don’t go so well with hip-dysplasia (DDH). The tricky mechanics of keeping myself on my feet tend to disappear if I can’t get a grip on the ground. I become one of those penguins that shuffles slowly along trying to hold an egg on its feet. Let’s just say it would have taken a while…!
My Dad (who I have written about so often
in this blog) died just six weeks ago and of course I’m missing him so much
right now. Being in the countryside always
makes me feel close to Dad because he loved it so much. I talked at his funeral about how much he
loved the moors of the Peak District, his time living at Lockerbrook Farm as a warden for
the WoodCraft Folk, and the work they do to encourage young people to get outdoors
and learn to work in harmony with nature and each other.
So over the last four weeks I’ve been waiting eagerly for ‘Spring’
- a sign that the weather had permanently picked up and that ‘perfect’ day to get
out there again. Of course, predicting
the British weather is about as futile as trying to predict whether my knee or neck
or ribs will hurt more or less on any given day. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it rains. So today I decided to stop waiting and just
start walking again.
At 4.5 miles it was a shorter walk than some of the other ‘legs’. It takes my total so far to 29 miles and I’ve challenged myself to walk the full 100 miles to Eastbourne by October this year to raise awareness of hip dysplasia.
It was amazing to be back out there. I had forgotten how good this walk is for me –
for my mind, for my soul and for my body.
I started by dropping the car at Harting Down where a local taxi company picked me up and drove me
to Buriton, which is where I left off in November. It’s important for me to walk every step of
the way in sequence – to do it ‘right’.
Something else my Dad taught me.
The taxi driver waved me off with the cash from his last fare – just one
of the kind donations to Steps
Charity I’ve had so far to support people who are born with lower leg
conditions like mine.
Today’s walk took me along the ridge of the Downs, through
pretty woodland and lots of hedgerows.
Everything had that early Spring feel about it – a fresh start. It had rained in the morning but lightly. There were lambs in the fields. The birds
tweeted calmly, the air smelled fresh and there was a gentle breeze in the many
trees. Being up high gave me amazing views
over the whole valley, lush green fields punctuated by occasional farms, cottages
and villages.
I’m glad I stopped waiting and started walking. I found the spring in my Step I was looking
for and ready to walk again. Turns out
it was that perfect day after all.