Right, I've had enough of sitting about like a lazy lump of lard now. I don't care if it hurts, I'm going outside every day again. What has actually happened is that I think I've reached that point when rest is no longer the thing that's required, and it's exercise that will now help me get better. Rest is fine when the disc first pops out (it doesn't actually pop out, but you know...), but now I think I'm supposed to move to get some strength back. My doctor said swimming is very good for this problem in normal times, but that's not a thing anyone can do right now ... and actually it's not a thing I can do at any time because I'm a sinker.
In honour of the occasion of being away from our own neighbourhood for the first time in a fortnight, Matthew and I wore our new trainers that arrived today. Okay, fine, these are the real reason we wanted to walk. If they'd have arrived tomorrow, I probably would've stayed in today. So here they are, the new trainers. They're both New Balance, both dead cheap off of mandmdirect.com, where we get everything two seasons late and less than half price because why pay £70 when you can pay £30?!
So in our terribly comfy new trainers, we thought we'd amble along the canal at Hest Bank, just for a little bit. The plan was that as soon as I felt like I was getting into difficulty, we'd stop and turn back. That's pretty much what we did, but with the help of benches for rests, we actually did a fairly decent walk.
(I don't know why this little roundel has the aquaduct on it when Hest Bank is nowhere near the aquaduct.)
Oh my goodness, the grin on my face when we got to the top of the steps and came out onto the towpath – I was just delighted. So much green! Far more green than last time we saw the canal because it's been raining so much. I did mention to Matthew that some readers might perhaps think that I've been pretending to be injured just to avoid walking in the rain for the past fortnight, but I do assure you that that's not the case. But isn't it amazing what the rain does, though? I did know things were growing because the brambles in front of my house have now reached the top of the bay window in my living room and we can't see out at all now (as soon as I'm properly fit, they're coming down!).
It looks so different now, like a bit of the Amazon or something, all swampy and overgrown. I guess it's normal for there to be so much duckweed at this time of year, but having never been a walker I wouldn't know (and yes, of course, I Googled this – you are very familiar with my sneaky ways by now and there's no way I would have known that it was duckweed without checking).
There were lots of narrowboats on the canal today – more than usual, I think. One boat had smoke coming from its little chimney and there were delicious smells of people's dinners coming from most of them. I don't think I could live in a narrowboat. Too ... narrow.
I remembered this stretch and that bench from the last time I was here. 'Hmm,' says I, 'shall we see if we can make it to my favourite field, Matthew?' 'Well, Mother,' says the young 'un, 'it's up to you, if you think it won't hurt too much.' I didn't really think we could make it to my favourite field, which I reckoned was about a mile and a half away, and I reminded myself that one mile out actually means two altogether. 'Well, let's just keep walking,' says I, 'and if I feel like I'm getting into difficulty, we'll stop and turn back.' So we stuck with that plan. Perhaps not the most sensible plan for a herniated disc, but we were walking very slowly indeed, so I didn't really think I'd end up needing to call for socially distanced help. It was fine – I'll tell you this now, rather than write this whole post in a suspenseful and dramatic way that will keep you on the edge of your seat wondering whether we had to call out an ambulance or even just my dad. We walked a mile out and a mile back and nothing broke or felt worse.
After a little while of hobbling and stopping to let other walkers past, we saw this field. I looked at it for a while, trying to remember whether this was my favourite one, but it wasn't. For a start, this one isn't as big as my favourite one, and for another thing, I can see all of it from this angle. My favourite field disappears over its own horizon and the other side is seen from around the next bend in the canal. So this was not my favourite field, although it was still a very nice one. It looks a little bit like that field in the opening credits of Little House on the Prairie. Mmm, I wonder if that's on Netflix or anything – I used to love it, but not as much as The Waltons, which I have in its entirety on DVD.
Since this wasn't my favourite field and I was feeling okay (I say okay – there was actually quite a lot of pain down my left side, but that's there at the moment whether I'm sitting, standing, walking or lying down, so nothing to worry about), we thought we'd walk a bit further because it was nice and warm out and we were enjoying ourselves.
Some woods there in the distance that I don't know how to get to and have never explored. We really need to have a good look at a map of this whole area so that we can get to these little places. Also, I don't think Matthew knows how to read a map, so that's something splendid I could teach him.
The path started to get quite narrow here because of the overgrownness of the weedy stuff and the hedges, so it was a little tricky to let people pass us at two metres. I thought perhaps we should think about turning back now, but I just wanted to see my field – it was calling to me, I tell you! 'Just one more bend, Matthew,' says I. And then, 'maybe it's just after this bend.' It wasn't, and in the end I did have to give up because it was getting pretty hurty in my left hip. No point trying to be a hero, eh?
This was the last bend. I thought about limping to the next one because I was sure the field was near, but that really did look like quite a long way to limp, and it's not as if the field's going anywhere – we'll see it another time.
So we turned back and had a rest at the first bench we saw, which was this one. Good, sturdy bench is that. It isn't – I feared for my life sitting on it, so we just had a thirty-second stop and then went to investigate whatever it was that was flapping about in the weeds at the edge of the canal.
I'm sorry to have to report that we found a wood pigeon with a very injured wing. It looked like it had been caught by something and chewed a bit. Now, in ordinary times, I might have done something about this poor suffering bird; but these are not ordinary times and the RSPB, I am absolutely certain, would not come out to the canal for a wood pigeon. We couldn't take the bird home with us, and it doubtless would have died of shock or its injuries anyway if we had. So we had to leave it. Circle of life.
Onwards. I was walking a mite faster after my very short sit on that bench and the pain had subsided just a little. So there's something to learn there, I think – walking is good, and lots of rests help, which means I need to keep my walks to the canal and the prom, or anywhere else I can think of where I can sit down just for a minute every quarter of a mile or so. This is the way to get myself better. Nice one!
Look at that. Pretty gorgeous, isn't it? Our world is brilliant. Such a shame we're doing an astonishing job of completely trashing it.
I was into a bit of a pattern now: walk at a normal walking pace for a little bit, start limping and slow down, sit for one minute when a bench presents itself, walk again at a normal walking pace. It's not pretty, but it counts as exercise!
The crops are growing! We've missed them over the past two or three weeks, and there are some that I need to go and have a look at as soon as I can walk three-ish miles without any difficulty. I hope that's soon because I want to see if that field near Slyne is definitely corn. And I have no idea what's planted in the field in my favourite place, but that'll be exciting to see. That's a mile away with no benches though, so I'm not sure if I can get there yet. Sorry – this photo is a bit dark, but this looked like a field of corn.
Almost back – the car's just ten yards or so from here, but a sit was needed nonetheless. It was a sit that scared me half to death because my foot slipped just in front of the bench and everything went into slo-mo as I thought I was going to fall on my face and rupture some more discs. I didn't and it was all fine.
A very successful two-mile walk. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I made Matthew promise that he'll walk with me every day now until I'm no longer limping because I'll need someone with me to make sure I don't fall or get stuck somewhere. He agreed, but did ask in what circumstances it might be acceptable for me to force one of his brothers to accompany me instead, so I'm not sure his heart's totally in it.
As we were getting up to go back to the car, I dropped my car key on the path and stooped very slowly to pick it up. 'Oh,' says Matthew, 'I should've picked that up for you.' 'Oh yes,' says I, 'well, you can pick up anything else I drop for a while, but I'll try not to drop things.' 'Okay,' says Matthew. 'But if you get your spine operated on and are totally better, you can pick your own stuff up after that.' Sometimes I'm just not at all sure my sons love me or if they're just in it for the free stuff.
Until tomorrow, dear friends.
WQ
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