100 miles per year! My ups and downs with hip dysplasia
100 miles is a long way for anyone to walk. For me, with hip dysplasia, it feels like a very big achievement. Two weeks ago I completed the South Downs Way and in the end it took me 15 days of walking, over exactly 1 year. For experienced walkers it takes about 7 days consecutive walking.
Emotionally the weekend was a bit of a rollercoaster – not unlike the famous Seven Sisters hills that I tackled on day two! When I set out, I felt excited that I might complete my 100 miles challenge and also nervous – it was the first time I’d tried to walk three days and I knew that even experienced walkers categorise the Seven Sisters as a challenge.
The first day I left Southease Station to tackle Firle Beacon; an 8-mile
walk. Despite weather warnings it was a
cold but sunny autumnal day and I felt relaxed as I crossed the A26 and headed
up Beddingham Hill. I have realised over
the last year how much being part of nature has helped me, mentally. A
real-life mindfulness app full of birds, trees, flowers, different smells and
importantly for me, sounds. I’m very
auditory sensitive to my surroundings (I guess as a musician it’s not that
surprising) and the sound of the South Downs Way has been an amazing soundtrack
to my life this year.
Just past the Beddingham Hill Telecom Masts I found a bench
with a view and stopped for lunch – just as the Heavens opened. One soggy sandwich later, as all the dog
walkers scuttled back to their cars, I started on the path across Firle
Beacon. The predicted weather conditions
arrived – rain, strong cross-winds and, unexpectedly, thick fog. The promised 360 panoramic views of Firle
Beacon were invisible. I could barely
see two steps ahead.
We can’t control the weather (actual or metaphorical - like
the things that happen around us in life or being born with hip dysplasia). And
I was reminded acutely of that as it became harder to fight the elements to
keep walking. Finding shelter on the top of the hill was hard. Everything
‘squelched’ as I walked, my pace slowed and my joints ached a bit more. The
only thing I could do, was just kept walking.
I remembered that I’m lucky - I can do this. Even in the rain and the
wind and the fog, I can still walk. So
many people can’t take walking for granted – which is what Steps Charity is all
about.
As I descended towards Alfriston I was out of the fog and
wind, and the rain had slowed to a drizzle. I was somewhat bedraggled as I
walked into Chestnuts tea shop below
my B&B. My mascara had an Alice Cooper feel and my hair was more
Bridget Jones then beach-swept. My reward was the best tea and cake ever.
The next day I woke up aching. This was a big day for two reasons – one, it
would take me over the Seven Sisters and two, I was meeting two more ‘hippies’
for the first part of the walk. An unexpected pleasure and benefit of this
journey has been meeting others who either have hip dysplasia or family members
who do. Being able to share our stories
was great fun and it was lovely to meet such amazing women. Whilst the ground was sodden and slippery
from yesterday’s rain, the Autumn sun was shining bright. Karen,
Sam and I walked from Alfriston along the Cuckmere river amidst lush green
fields, with the sunlight shining across the water. We made our way to Litlington
and then continued up through the fields alongside runners doing the Beachy Head Marathon. This part of the South Downs Way is
exceptionally pretty and varied – including two sets of step steps through the
trees near West Dean. They payoff was a
spectacular view of the Exceat Estuary – and the perfect tea stop to rest.
After that I was back walking alone, and yet I wasn’t. The Marathon was in full force and there were plenty of supporters cheering us on in Exceat. Since my name was printed on my diff-abled.co.uk vest I was cheered along by people telling me “Go Jill – you’ve got this”. I can’t explain how motivating that is; and something I’m so lucky to experience regularly as part of the Bearcats community back in Twickenham. It wasn’t long before I had climbed the steep hill for the start of the Seven Sisters. I am in such awe of the many people who were running or walking over the seven hills after already running 24 miles! Many differently-abled walkers and runners sharing the same path to challenge themselves.
After the initial exhilaration of seeing the white chalk
cliffs spread out in front of me, it was extremely tough to walk up and down these
seven hills. They’re pretty steep and the
wind and rain chose that moment to return in force. At least the wind was blowing in from the right-hand
side (my stronger side) and not facing me head on. I was clinging onto the hillside with my poles,
and a couple of times I was blown into the hillside. This is where all my early training came into
play – the process of one hill at a time. At the top of each hill I just
stopped, sat down, and ate another energy ball or sandwich and took a drink.
By the time I arrived at Birling Gap I was exhausted and
once again, bedraggled. As I queued at
the NT Café for restorative cuppa, a lovely couple started chatting with me. It
turns out one of them was a marshal from the BHMarathon and they kindly offered
me a lift into Eastbourne, for which I will remain ever-thankful. It was lovely to reach my hotel, have a shower
and simply relax. Needless to say, I slept well that evening!
The following morning most of the guests at breakfast of the
Lansdowne hotel were Beachy
Head marathon runners and their supporters.
A couple of people remember seeing me walking on the Seven Sisters and
it was good to chat to them about why I was walking.
It was a strange feeling arriving at Birling Gap for the end of my walk. All sorts of emotions stirred inside me – excitement, pride and also a sense of loss – my 100 miles walking adventure was nearly over. I couldn’t have picked a better day and it was calm, sunny and peaceful as I ascended to Belle Tout lighthouse on the approach to Beachy Head. There were very few people about and I was able to stop, sit and soak in the atmosphere and soundtrack frequently. This time stopping not out of fatigue but just to savour the last four miles.
It was an unexpected treat, as I reached Beachy Head, to see an ice-cream van and my inner-child couldn’t resist a 99 with raspberry sauce, overlooking the sea. Equally unexpected was the terrain of the last mile descending to Eastbourne – a narrow path through scrubland, reminiscent of much earlier parts of the walk, now over 90 miles ago. The birds were plentiful and their song was crystal clear as I was well into my last mile.
After three hours walking I arrived at the end of the
South Downs Way, just outside Eastbourne.
It felt like a huge achievement, and I’m very thankful to have walked
100 miles. I never thought I could, but
it’s amazing what we can do if we try.
It’s been an amazing journey – thank you all for your
support for me and Steps Charity. Thank you for being there every step of the way
with me. We did it! xx
Jill has spent a year walking the South Downs Way with hip dysplasia (DDH) to raise money for Steps Charity. You can still donate here.
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.
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.
These hips weren’t made for walking
Yet here I am having just completed two more days and 12.5 miles walking my hips along the South Downs Way. I’m very grateful that I have the mobility, time and support to do so.
I’ve recently started reading A Guide for Adults with Hip Dysplasia by Sophie West and Denise Sutherland – two women with DDH like me. Denise was diagnosed aged 18 months and has therefore lived a more similar path to me. Sophie (an orthopaedic surgeon) was not diagnosed until she was 27. Their book was recommended on Steps Charity’s website, as part of their mission to support adults with hip dysplasia, as well as families of young children born with DDH.
It helps to know what's happening to you
A friend recently asked me why I’d chosen Steps as a charity to support alongside my walking challenge. For me it's the fact that Steps provide information to people right at the point where they feel vulnerable and lost. Either a parent who’s told their young baby will spend months in a plaster-cast and needs surgery. Or an adult newly-diagnosed after increasing pain in the hips, or like me is interested to find out more about a condition I've been aware of my whole life.
I know first-hand how knowing what’s going to happen to you or your child can be important in how you deal with it. As a child, lots of things ‘happened to’ me that weren’t happening to my friends. I had lots of surgery which from a child's point of view meant people did things to me that hurt. I spent lots of time away from my parents in hospital. There was nothing unnecessary - it's what got me walking. Yet I know from therapy I’ve had as an adult that it’s had a significant impact on how I see the world. Both positively and negatively.
As a child I tried to control things by screaming and refusing to let the nurses come near me without a fight. Apparently when my parents weren’t there (in those days they had to stick to visiting times) the only person who I’d let near me was a ward cleaner called ‘June’. Or as I could pronounce it aged 2; ‘Dune’. My mum tells me that my consultant always had to co-opt this cleaner into holding my hand so that he could examine my hips. When I had my left femur lengthened aged 16, I took control by watching a video for medical students about the surgery. The nurses thought I was mad watching how they use a chisel to break the femur, a drill to put the holes in the side of the leg for the fixator and so on. But for me, I knew what was going to happen to me and that felt better than not knowing.
So the South Downs Way is double challenge. I’ve chosen to do it, but it involves uncontrollable things like the weather or the potential of getting lost or injured whilst alone.
Leg 2: My walk from Exton to Buriton
This weekend my two days took me from Exton (where I left off last time) to Buriton - a total of 12.5 miles. The great thing about this part of the walk is that there’s a place to stay on the path exactly half-way. Each day also has a place to stop for a rest and cuppa mid-way. The hard part about this section of the South Downs Way is that it’s very hilly. So tough going, even if your hips were made for walking…
It’s also beautiful. Friday was mainly dry but misty and it had been raining and snowing the day before. The ground was muddy and slippery as I made my way through the Meon Valley. It’s an idyllic part of the world; green fields and hedgerows punctuated by fluffy white sheep. The first challenge was to walk up and around Old Winchester Hill, the site of an Iron Age Fort 650 ft above sea level and where, on a sunny clear day, you can get a great view out to sea. Today the view was of the nearby sheep and fields with a far horizon of mist.
The trip down the other side of the hill took my mud-clogged boots past amazing hang-gliders to Meon Springs - a fly fishing lake where they cater for walkers with tea, toilets, water top-ups and friendly conversation. From there it was a gradual and constant climb back up to 800 ft. The hardest part was half-an-hour up a steep path of uneven chalk stones, which I traversed, at the pace of a penguin, with two walking sticks. By the time I got to the top it was dark and I had to get out the torch to see where I was walking. My hips, knees and the right side of my ribs (which work overtime to stabilise me) were hurting as I stopped for a drink and an energy ball before the final half hour along the ridge to Wetherdown Lodge. Part of an old Naval communications encampment called HMS Mercury, it’s a lovely warm and hospitable hostel, and was the perfect place to stop.
The following morning I awoke to the sound of rain. I’d expected this and it wasn’t too heavy, but what I hadn’t expected was fog. I left layered-up and walked a slow incline through a canopy of trees and the tapping rain, to Butser Hill. It’s the highest peak of the Downs at 888 feet and the original start point of the South Downs Way – until it was extended another 22 miles to Winchester. I can’t really comment on the view (see picture) - I must go back on a clearer day to actually see it!
Down the steep grassy hill of Queen Elizabeth Country Park for a tea break. As I was eating my toasted tea-cake (a religious ritual if you’re from Yorkshire) I looked to the right and a very steep hill of fir trees. “Hope I’m not walking up that” I think. Twenty minutes later and I’m climbing through the trees. It’s stunning and fragrant from the rain. Watching the birds hop around almost takes my mind off how much my hips, knees, feet and shoulders are aching.
An hour and a half later, as I approached the Five Bells in Buriton a woman stopped and got out of her car. She kindly asks “is that the way you usually walk or are you hurt and need help?” I smile as I know that my Fitbit will have logged this un-trackable gait as ‘sport’ not walking. I explained what I’m doing and why and that my lovely partner was waiting in the pub to drive me home. I arrived bedraggled and tired yet feeling so very grateful that I’ve been able to complete a quarter of the South Downs Way already.
For this leg my steps were short and my pace slower than the first trip; each 6-mile day took me and my hips over 5 hours. I’m so proud to be doing this. And grateful that these hips were made for walking. Just very differently.
I'll be back walking in the Spring, hopefully joined by a few friends. If you’d like to donate to Steps Charity you can do so here. £5 would pay for an information pack to be sent to the family of someone newly diagnosed.
You can also follow my blog posts on Facebook and Twitter @WalkingJill
If the shoe doesn’t fit... orthotics and hip dysplasia
Walking my first 10K for Steps last month taught me a couple of valuable lessons. Firstly, I need to build up my leg strength, particularly around my knees, or I’ll never manage the hills and rugged terrain of the South Downs Way. And secondly, I need to find some comfortable walking boots that my orthotics fit into properly, so I don’t get blisters.
This second realisation makes my heart sink. Oh no, not shoes….
Shoes have always been my personal nemesis. Practically and emotionally.
I was born with hip dysplasia (DDH). My pelvis is incomplete, crooked and I have legs that are different lengths. I also inherited some ‘unusual’ feet that are different sizes - and a left ankle that turns out a bit like Mary Poppins. I wear orthotics to correct my leg length and knee position so practically speaking, pumps or shoes that are light and tie tightly to my feet are the best.
Emotionally – well, like many women I drool over the sexy heels on display in the LK Bennett window. But shoe shopping just isn’t fun. Unlike Cinderella, the shoe rarely fits on either foot and the need to insert orthotics writes most girl-shoes off the list. When it comes to dressing up girly, I often feel more like the ugly sister than the fabled princess in waiting.
I didn’t mind shoe shopping as a kid. My orthopaedic consultant insisted on good shoes that fastened well to my feet so we always went to Clarks in the Co-op department store in Sheffield. They had animated models of the Animal Kwackers there, who I loved. Like Boots and his silver platforms there was a blingster in young Jill - so I always chose the shiny shoes with gold braiding. Happy memories.
The psychological challenges started for me as a teenager. Wearing stilettos was a marker that you were growing up and at that age I become hyper-conscious of the image that heels = sexy. So I persevered with my heels and fishnets at school (it was the 80s in a school with no uniform) because I wanted to fit in. And I wanted boys to look at me like they did the other girls. In reality heels just accentuated my limp and made me walk badly because they’re less stable.
Yet to this day I still dread dressing up for a night out where women wear sexy high heels with their dresses. My own inability to stand up, let alone walk or dance in them, makes me feel like I'm not quite cutting it as a woman. Of course, this is just my own perception - a story I've invented in my own head. But it’s honestly what goes on in it! Rationally I know it really doesn’t matter and I’m lucky I can walk. But emotions are funny things….
I was recently with a group of girlfriends who were sharing their first childhood memories. Ironically, mine is about shoes. My pre-school playgroup used to streamline the rush for bags and coats at the end of the morning, by sending you to get them according to shoe colour. “Everyone with red shoes. Now everyone with brown shoes.” It’s a happy memory for me because I got to go up on my own. I was the only one in blue shoes and I simply loved that I was different. I was differently-abled and differently-minded.
Thankfully stilettos aren’t the rage along the South Downs Way. So right now it’s about finding boots that can support but not cripple my funny ankles. And getting good orthotics that are fitted properly inside them. Since my 10K I’ve been consulting with a chiropractor and my podiatrist, and I’m being fitted for new orthotics next week.
The more I explore my life with hip dysplasia (DDH) and what goes on in my mind about that, the more I see that we’re all differently-abled. We all have things we’re not good at or a bit paranoid about. And let’s face it, you don’t need to have hip dysplasia to be crap at walking in heels!
My pledge is to try and be more like 3-year-old Jill - newly walking in her blue shoes. Walking differently. And proud of it.