A few months ago -- I can't be more precise -- I tried rising from the floor with my legs crossed. A maneuver that I've performed easily since childhood. A sudden pain in my left leg startled me, but it seemed to ease off. Nothing to be concerned about.
Or so I thought. The pain became more and more frequent, centered on the inside of my thigh. After a while, I developed a separate pain in my left lower abdomen. I didn't connect the two problems; I instead was concerned that I had some problem -- hopefully not cancer -- in my bowels.
Eventually, however, I realized that the two pains were connected, and seemed to merge.
Some of us would have immediately seen a doctor, or a physical therapist. I have my own way of handling such problems, which is to ignore them -- confident that the pain will go away if I think happy thoughts. This time, my confidence was misplaced. Continuing to walk daily between four and six miles did not solve my problems. Arguably, it intensified them.
Walking itself -- for a long time -- remained painless; it was only other motions of my body that were painful. Such as, significantly, touching my knees together. Which is, of course, a characteristic, almost diagnostic symptom of ....
Groin muscle strain or injury!
In 31 days, I fly to Scotland for a week's hike, joining four friends with whom I've done similar hikes in the past. At the conclusion of the hike, I fly to Milan, and thence to Lake Como for two weeks. This will be my third consecutive year hanging out at Lake Como with friends and relatives, the third year staying at the same rental house on the western lakeshore. A significant activity during such visits to Lake Como has been day hikes -- along the lake shore and into the hills behind the lake.
Beginning yesterday, I ceased my daily walks, in the hope that increased rest would hasten signs of improvement, signs that so far have been sorely [sic] absent. Even if successful, this strategy will have the unfortunate side effect of weakening the leg muscles that I need for hikes in Scotland, hikes averaging ten miles a day.
Luckily, however, this Scottish hike -- the "Rob Roy Way" -- will be one of the least demanding of the many British hikes I've undertaken over the past twelve years. Also, it will be no pioneering expedition into the depths of wilderness. As I've pointed out to my fellow hikers, at no point along the hike will we be far from taxi service. If worse comes to worst, I can alternate hikes and taxi rides from inn to inn, still enjoying the evening meals and conversations in the company of my friends.
Still, after decades of hiking in foreign climes, I have to wonder whether my travels are now hexed. Last year, a dislocated shoulder while -- humiliating to admit -- emerging from a Milan hotel bathtub. This year, a groin strain before the hike even begins, while merely attempting to stand up. Where does it all end? Is my body offering pointed warnings that I should observe? What next? Will I be "hiking" by use of a walker? Or merrily rolling down the trail in a wheelchair?
How can a young lad like myself end up so betrayed by his own well-conditioned body? So I delude myself, ignoring my actual age.
The hike goes on. The lakeshore stay remains scheduled. More details as events warrant.
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Photo: Stock photo, not the author!
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