I’m settling in at home, tickled to see how well the “garden” is doing, especially in the generous welcome of Spring sunshine. My ankle continues to improve, and I’ll see a physiotherapist tomorrow to see if and when and how much I can resume walking. . .
And, of course, I’m not only impatient to re-integrate long walks into my daily schedule (they’ve become such an important element in my physical and emotional/mental health). . . but also keen to know whether I can realistically aim at another attempt at the Via Francigena.
Naturally, then, when I’m delighting in the mason bees tracing aerial pathways from apple blossoms to nesting-tube house (photo above: apple trees in our rooftop garden), I’m thinking about the apple blossoms I snapped photos of barely two weeks ago, growing wild along the pathway between Siena and Quinciano on that first glorious 20.5-kilometre day of our projected week-long walk.
The sense of independence and freedom, of being immersed in the “natural” world, albeit we were actually walking alongside fields and up and down hillsides dedicated for centuries to various forms of agriculture — cultured “Nature,” if you will . . . and even, occasionally, working our way through industrial sections or skirting small communities. . . Mostly, the engagement of all our senses, with the pedestrian-paced time to process our observations. . .
Only two days later, I was able to contrast the richness afforded by this pace with that of the car that carried us from Buonconvento to San Quirico. The woman who drove us kindly pointed out aspects of the landscape as we passed through it, and I was pleased to be able to chat with her in Italian. But oh, snapping a photo, from the interior of the van, of this iconic circle of cypresses, was more rubbing salt on a wound than any kind of compensation. . . .
And it was at this point that I began to think of using the imposed Slow-Down to arrive at a renewed awareness of what Slow Travel might mean . . .
That said, however, I don’t want to gloss too quickly over the disappointment and fear I experienced in those first hours of injury. The way my feelings were coloured by the Big Number (70!) on my personal horizon. In Change Ma Vie,the French coaching / self-help podcast I listen to regularly (when walking!), Clotilde often repeats a central tenet of the series: Vous n’êtes pas vos pensées (Episode 3) — “You are not your thoughts.” She encourages us to observe our thoughts about a situation with curiosity rather than judgement; a favourite way to do this is by free-writing (Episode 46: Le flot de vos pensées . . . “The Flow of your thoughts”). Once we’ve free-written what’s flowing through our minds, we can begin to pin down the scattered but persistent ideas that have been governing our behaviour in order to examine their validity and see how they might have been limiting us.
I didn’t get around to capturing my thoughts with pen and paper in the days after my fall — I was too absorbed in icing and elevating my foot and oscillating between lamenting the way I’d spoiled our walking plans and optimistically (and magically) imagining that I’d recover quickly enough to manage the last day or two of the trek. Plus worrying about how we’d transport me to our next destination and manage the daily logistics of packing and unpacking, the challenging gap between mid-morning check-out and mid-afternoon check-in. As much as I wrote, here and on Instagram, about re-framing the situation positively, though, you should know that anxiety, fear, sadness, and occasionally despair dominated some hours (early mornings especially) of those first days, sometimes with melodramatic exaggeration, sometimes with unflinching recognition of realistic possibities.
The subsequent UTI and the lip cold sore the size of a raspberry (there’s that melodramatic exaggeration) didn’t help. . .
I wrote all the above yesterday, Sunday, and this Monday morning, I’m going to leave the post as is and head to my physio appointment before I write any more. But when I get back, I’m going to do some free-writing which I’ll share next post, examining some of the thoughts I was contending with about Aging and Travel and the (likely) Possibility of Intervening Events that will change our Lifestyle. About whether or not it was foolish to attempt this trip at almost 70 and whether it will be even more foolish to attempt it again. About what I might do when such a trip becomes not only foolish but physically very difficult to impossible. And some other less general thoughts about Me and Other People and Expectations.
I hope you might come back to read that (I’m hoping to post it within the next few days), but I’ll also happily read any comments you might care to leave now. Oh, and cross your fingers for me that the physio offers a promising assessment. . .
xo,
f
Oh you have hit on the crux of the matter! As my husband and I wrap up a ten week stay in Scotland we are asking if we have many more trips left in us. At 80 and 82 it’s a valid concern. Our questions always revolve around the actual hassle of travel and possible health problems that might crop up. There is insurance, but that’s not really the issue. On one hand we had to find a local, private GP for one problem and on the other, suffer through a long debilitating head cold for about a week. This time it has all worked out well but home and garden beckon…and we’re feeling our years! Hopefully you and your husband will enjoy quite a few more trips…
Author
It’s true — insurance isn’t really the issue (there are hoops one really doesn’t want to jump through when finally having decided to seek help!). I’m glad it worked out for you this time (and the travel really does feed us, doesn’t it?!) but I know what you mean. Enjoy home when you get there (and I hope the travel isn’t too gruelling on the return trip).
Travelling is challenging at any age. All your thoughts, exaggerated or not, after your accident were quite understandable reactions to the accident, the associated pain, and the loss of your planned activities. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Your commitment to fitness is admirable and I hope you’ll be able to resume your long walks before too long. Five years ago I was laid low for 6 weeks with a fractured elbow, which was the result of tripping on the mat at my back door – no exotic location required – and I recall similar fearful and anxious thoughts following that episode. I hope you receive a good assessment from your physiotherapist. Mine was invaluable in helping me to recover fully from my fracture. I look forward to your free writing with interest.
Author
Thanks, Maria!
Aren’t physios the best?! (I’ll tell you what mine said next post).
I really don’t think you were foolish to attempt the walk . I think I would be , but I’m five years older than you & not nearly as fit . I’ve seen quite a reduction in my fitness in the last five years mostly caused by one or two health problems . I tire more easily & don’t have the stamina I used to have , despite daily dog walking to keep me loosened up & regular core strength exercises . We are in Scotland just now , where we are enjoying brisk walks of up to six miles but we check the terrain carefully beforehand . To be scrambling downhill on rocky or muddy ground when tired would be asking for trouble . I know I can’t keep moving all day so mornings are busy & afternoons more restful . I accept my limitations as most of us have to in time . Your body reminds you that age is not just a number ( yes , it is annoying ! ) But you’re not in that position yet . Injuries can happen to anyone & you were just unfortunate . I’m sure you will be back there before long finishing that walk off .
Author
If I ever lose enthusiasm for walking, I’ll think hard about getting another dog (or borrow one from a daughter). That daily walk is one of the best things we can do for long-term health, I’m convinced (and those core strength exercises you do daily). Still, as you say age is not just a number, no matter the hashtag that irritates me so because of its meaninglessness (#ageisnotavariable) — whoops, rant over — Despite wishful thinking, the body does remind us. In fact, I am regaining mobility more quickly than I’d once despaired, but the fatigue . . . Thanks for the encouragement!
I am glad that you are going to get help and advice on your poor ankle and perhaps a chance to have another bash at this walk in the future. If not that, then maybe a shorter but equally picturesque route will be on the cards as they fall. As for the flow of thoughts…when I stroll off to walk each morning I am mostly alone in a very quiet village so I take the opportunity to say my thoughts out loud(ish), which helps me to get into the right frame of mind for the day. For some reason, my brain is full of mad ideas in the early morning and it is best to deal with them then and there. And it is always the same damned thoughts and memories that try to throw me off balance. Wishing you good news and May joys.
Author
Yes! Mad ideas and early morning seem to go together for me, often ambushing me with anxiety or sadness I’d easily bat away a few hours later. And yes, the same damned thoughts and memories, albeit occasionally in different garb.
All the May joy to you as well!
Beautiful photos,your garden is lovely-what a treat to enjoy your “spring on the roof”
I admire how fit you are (even now) and I don’t think that’s foolish to go,walk,travel and enjoy life ( I’ve seen a young man in Hokas this morning on my nordic walking-very short one- around Bundek Lake- we were at another lake together- and was thinking about you)
Yes,we are not our thoughts-I love to listen regulary ( both croatian and english) versions of coaching/ self help as well- but sometimes we have to live through downs and “contrasts” to achieve better times and things in life
Fingers crossed for the ankle!
Dottoressa
Author
So are you using walking sticks for the nordic walking? We’re thinking it might be good for me to get used to using mine more, possibly get a more packable pair. I’ve used them for hiking up steeper (scarier, to me) slopes, but I know there are many fitness benefits to using them for flatter terrain as well.
The self-help podcasts can be good, can’t they? That perspective and encouragement. . .
Yes,I use them and utterly enjoy. I think you’ll love them,too,from time to time
D
Author
I’m going to try to make more of a habit of them. Thanks!
So much of what you have written as well as what your followers have said struck a chord with me. Currently I am having a bunch of tests to see what is causing my irregular heartbeat as well as some episodes of dizziness. The cause of the unsteadyness may well be some eye drops I am back to using to eliminate eye pressure, or maybe something else. I have to confront the fact that I am about to turn 82 and and perhaps this is something I need to deal with ongoing, and lucky if that is it. I see my peers having to cope with so much more. There is a possibility that vacation to my beloved Chincoteague Island will not happen again this year. last year my daughter had covid. This year she and her husband have the opportunity for a trip to Iceland, some of which overlaps with the time the three of us would have been in Chincoteague. Something similar happened 9 years ago, and I just drove down myself. There is no way I would make this trip alone now. So very much thinking of how to go about living in this aging body. And I do agree that injuries like yours can happen to one at any age, so I would not think you would not be able do this trip or one like it in the future. Be well and enjoy your garden.
Author
I hope that the tests can lead to a solution that will improve your condition rather than limit your lifestyle, but what you describe is part of what I began thinking of last month after my fall. Whether gradually or suddenly, most of us will experience limitations to activities we love as we age, and I’m wanting to think through that a bit as a community here. Thanks for contributing a thoughtful comment — and oh, I do hope Chincoteague works out for you this year . . .
What an interesting post. I’m so sorry that this happened to you and I’m sure that this won’t really be any consolation but…your writing is so insightful and helps me (and others I’m sure) to know we’re not alone in the ever-fluctuating inner voice responses to situations and the 3am anxiety. Looking forward to your free-writing post and I hope all went well with the physio. Xx
Author
I’m really grateful to know the post helps connect us in these situations. It’s what I hope for!
Others have said it better than I can, but this was a particularly meaningful post. “You are not your thoughts” really struck home. My husband and I are on our last day of a four day trip to Oregon. Most of the day has been spent in our hotel room for no good reason and me wondering why I’ve settled for that. I will try free writing about it, hoping it will bring insight.
You are so fit and worked so hard at preparing for this trip that I cannot imagine you will not soon be back to walking everywhere and planning a re-do of this trip. Fingers crossed fire you and looking forward to your next post.
Author
Oh, I can so relate to the situation you describe, those politics of marriage which become clearer than usual during travel. . . Unless I’ve misconstrued and whoops, just me then! ;-). This is exactly the kind of situation I find worth free-writing about.Thanks for the encouragement!
“You are not your thoughts.” What a wonderful, valuable mantra. Thanks for sharing it. Very wise. We are also our simple presence, for others who love us, but also for ourselves. I have a hard part remembering the second part, having learned the first part only recently.
In terms of your travel, what comes to mind for me is my hiking trip to Pinnacles with my husband, brother-in-law, and sister. All are younger than I am, two are taller, and at least one of them is a good deal more fit. Somebody always walked behind me, so by design, we never went any faster/longer than I could manage. I didn’t like it, really, because I felt bad to be essentially the infirm one, but everyone insisted. In retrospect it will be how I ought to travel anywhere going forward, led by the one with the greatest need for care.
Author
I find it very useful to remember that I can separate from some thoughts, observe and analyze them, and discard the ones that aren’t useful, or even true, but that can exert considerable power.
Your hiking system works well to keep everyone safe and comfortable. Paul tends to walk behind and let me set the pace (otherwise he can get into his head and be hundreds of metres ahead quite quickly 😉 . . . Sometimes I prefer he go ahead to find the best way if there are any technical challenges and sometimes I don’t like to feel someone right behind, but generally I think it’s a smart compromise (Paul isn’t naturally the one with “the greatest need for care,” but he does his best. Ha!
I join the other commenters in their fascination with the idea that “you are not your thoughts.” We do allow our thoughts — often the scary ones — to take over sometimes. Of course we do.
I don’t think that you were too old to tackle that hike. You are physically fit and not in ill health. That said, I have been thinking about the potential for an accident in the middle of nowhere. I am amazed that you were able to continue the walk with your bad ankle. However, even young people have such accidents. You are still capable of doing the walk. It’s the potential accidents that anyone needs to think about managing.
Your garden is beautiful. The apple tree is so lovely with its pale pink blossoms. We had an old apple tree in our yard and had to have it cut down a few years ago. I miss it. Maybe it is time to purchase a new one.
I hope that your physiotherapy went well and that you will soon be back to your walks.
Author
Thanks, Dottie! Funnily (or just sensibly, I guess), I had realized during the previous day’s walk that we should know the Italian Emergency Call number, and I’d checked with our ex-pats to get that set up in the phone. . . Luckily, my injury wasn’t severe enough to need that kind of help, but . . .
Re the apple tree — we actually have three of them, in large containers on our rooftop garden, and we’re delighted to harvest enough each fall that I can make apple pies for a Fall Harvest dinner with our kids.
I don’t mean to dismiss your fears but I definitely see you trying this again. You are so young in your mind and in your body, which you work hard at to keep strong. I look forward to reading more of your thoughts on your experience.
Author
Thanks, Alison! We’re beginning to plan . . .
Because Instagram hates its users, I’d not seen this happened. Sorry to hear it. Perhaps one day we’ll be in Italy together and I can finally meet the cookie recipient from so long ago.
Author
I would love that! Who knows?
This is fascinating to read. It is inevitable when injury strikes that you find yourself ruminating about what you can and should do but I admire the way you face these concerns head on and retain your enthusiasm and energy. I’m 68, generally quite fit but very aware of how quickly I lose fitness nowadays when illness or injury occurs. I think that you are very likely to do this walk because you live day to day in a way which looks after your body and that will mean you recover well. It’s a tricky balance: accepting that ageing is changing what we can do while not giving away our physical capabilities before we need to. Using our bodies, caring for them, moving them, all this lets us make the most of the days. I’m increasingly aware that, as well as “we are not our thoughts”, bodies are where we live! very best wishes for your recovery.
Author
It’s true — it’s so discouraging to lose that hard-won strength and fitness. I’m so glad I have a young and encouraging trainer who always reassures me that it will come back more quickly than I think — and who assures me that the strength and fitness I’d worked to attain is part of what got me through that illness or injury. As you say, “bodies are where we live” and it’s well worth investing daily in their health and fitness, however we can.