Some of you know my story. Others are just stumbling in now—welcome to the mess.
I live with degenerative discs, neuropathy, and now, for bonus points, confirmed plantar fasciitis in my right heel and Achilles tendonitis in my left. That’s right—my body’s basically staging a protest every time I lace up my boots. Chronic pain is a daily part of life. Oddly enough, staying active is still the best medicine. The trick? Listening before it screams.
My doctor recently gave me the “you are getting older and take care of yourself” plan: stretches, insoles, and the classic RICE routine (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation). Easy enough, until I ignored the warning signs and boom—Achilles tendonitis. Now I’m told to cut back on long walks and avoid uneven terrain, which is basically every trail worth walking.
Here’s what managing this mess looks like:
1. RICE
- Rest: Yeah, that means actual rest. Crutches if needed.
- Ice: 15-20 minutes, multiple times a day.
- Compression: Wrap it up.
- Elevation: Prop the foot up like royalty.
2. Modify Activities
- Low-impact options: Swap hiking for swimming or cycling (but I’m still stubbornly walking, carefully.. besides I can’t swim).
- Avoid over-stretching: No more ladder-climbing heroics.
- Support the foot: Good shoes, heel lifts, and maybe even night splints.
3. Manage Pain
- NSAIDs: Ibuprofen is now part of the trail kit.
- Heat therapy: On the rainy days, heating pads help keep the limbs functional.
4. Physical Therapy
- Stretching & strengthening: Focusing on calf muscles and mobility.
- Eccentric loading: Slowly working the tendon under controlled stress—it’s not fun, but it’s working.
This spring’s been cold and rainy. Mix that with being stuck inside and it’s a recipe for a mental nosedive. Chronic pain, limited mobility, and grey skies are a rough combo.
But I’ve still got my eyes on the Fundy Footpath—a rugged, unforgiving coastal trail that spans nearly 64km of New Brunswick wilderness. My plan? Break it into two overnight sections, with recovery days in between. It’s a compromise between pushing limits and preserving what function I have.
But maybe, just maybe… I need to rethink how I adventure.
My wife sat me down the other day. We had one of those grounding conversations. She reminded me I’ve got nothing to prove. That maybe as I get older, it’s okay to trade thru-hikes for day hikes + car camping. I’ve got the XC70 being converted into a micro-RV—why not enjoy the comfort of a real mattress after a good hike?
Adventure doesn’t always have to be brutal to be meaningful. And I’m learning (slowly) that adjusting the how doesn’t mean giving up the why.
So, how do you adventure?