Back in August 2024, whilst running the second half of the West Devon Way from Peter Tavy to Okehampton, I managed to land heavily on my left leg, jolting the knee inwards. At the time, it was just one of those slightly missed steps that occurs when out running on rough terrain, but in the next couple of days I found myself in a fair amount of pain, with my left knee feeling oddly loose and unstable. The pain subsided, and by the following weekend I was able to test myself out with a short run. Yes, okay, there was some reaction afterwards, but would it stop me completing my plan to run a section of the South West Coast Path from Par Beach to Looe a week later? What do you think?
Sometimes in life one makes mistakes… On Thursday 29th August, after being dropped at Plymouth Railway Station, I caught the 0747 train to Par, and having jogged the mile or so from Par Station to the beach, at 09:28 I began my self-propelled journey west. It was a beautiful sunny day, giving me spectacular coastal views and some great running… but by the time I reached Fowey, almost six miles into the route and having rounded Gribbin Head, my leg was screaming at me that it was sore… very sore. Did I do the sensible thing, and call it a day? You’ve probably gathered by now that the answer to that question is ‘no’. Instead, having cross the River Fowey on the passenger ferry, I climbed out of Polruan to begin the(how shall I put this?) somewhat undulating section of the path that would eventually take me to Looe, ten miles or so further along the coast. It was not a good decision – for undulating read brutally up and down and blisteringly hot… By the time I reached Looe I was hobbling along, and hardly able to run at all. It got worse. My wife had driven over to pick me up and in time it took us to drive home again my leg had decided that it wasn’t really interested in moving anymore – so it didn’t.
What followed was an initial period when my left knee felt like it could collapse on me at any time, and when it wasn’t making that threat it was clunking nauseatingly, as some internal part of it moved in a way that it clearly wasn’t supposed to. So, I rested up, took things carefully, and went to see a Sports Therapist who agreed with my self-diagnosis – that I had damaged my Medial Collateral Ligament (which is located on the inside of the knee joint and acts to prevent, or at least limit, unwanted inward movement). Over the next few months I paid regular visits to the clinic for ultrasound treatment, nerve stimulation and massage, and I completed (not especially diligently) a set of stretches designed to improve the overall strength and mobility of my leg. Things sort of got better…
Just before Christmas, still experiencing pain, especially after I had been sitting down for any length of time (which is essentially how I spend the bulk of my days…), and still unable to run, I switched to seeing a Physiotherapist. She immediately targeted my hamstring and quad to carry out some excruciatingly painful massage and trigger-point needling. Things continued to sort of get better…
In January, I caught a bad cold, had to cancel a physio appointment, and following the resulting unplanned period of rest and inactivity, found that my leg was definitely starting to feel quite a lot better. It made me wonder whether that was what my leg really needed – complete rest, or as close to complete rest as I could get – and so I avoided walking as much as I could (getting a lift into work), and waited for time to do its job (which, as I write this at the end of February, it is still doing…).
All of which is a very long-winded way of explaining why, one Sunday afternoon towards the end of January, with us unable to go out for a walk anywhere, I drove down to The Box (museum) in Plymouth where I subsequently sat with a coffee and some of my drawing and painting gear while my wife walked down to meet me and hour or so later. I didn’t have any kind of plan, but after a quick search for interesting images of local places, I selected a photograph of Cotehele Quay on the Cornish side of the River Tamar about ten miles north of where I sat and set to work.
The picture at the start of this entry is the result. I was a bit limited by the range of watercolour pans that I had with me, but it’s a reasonably satisfying little picture with some nice details, and I think it captures the overall feel of the place fairly well. It was certainly an interesting experience to sit painting in a public place (not that I was aware that any of the people around me really noticed what I was doing) and something that I am sure I will do again. It would be better, of course, to be sitting out in nature actually looking at the view I am painting, but for that to happen it seems that I will need to remain patient a little longer…
Tim O'Hare 