Just over 2 months ago, D and I made the move to South Wales and we’re happily settling in to our new surroundings and a new way of life. We’re both really enjoying our new jobs and our weekends together for the first time in what seems like forever! We’ve stocked up on OS maps and walking books and we’re trying to get out and explore as often as we can, even if it’s just a little adventure.
This weekend we were particularly excited about getting away because we got our rock and roll bed fitted in to the van; we wanted to stay overnight somewhere to try out the finished camper van. We drove to Rhossili with our little dog, running kit and wetsuits. The forecast wasn’t great but a bit of rain wasn’t going to put us off from a run along the beach. It was gently raining as we skipped down the windy path and steps down to the beach and I felt light on my feet and utterly grateful to be outside in such beautiful surroundings. Milou was having a great time running along side us; he is a much happier runner when it’s a bit cool and damp and he seems to appreciate the softness of the sand under his paws. It was wonderful to watch his little soggy body gallop happily next to the waves as D and I ran along the mirror-like surface of the wet sand. The two miles we ran from the van and along the beach are up there in my favourite runs ever and I caught myself smiling a few times in between lung-fulls of fresh sea air.
My Garmin bleeped at 2 miles and it didn’t look as though we had far to go before we reached the other end of the bay, where we had planned to turn and head back. The sand was strewn with pebbles and I was enjoying hopping over little streams in the sand when I heard and felt :::crack::::
Was that the sound of pebbles clashing or my ankle? The wave of tinnitus and involuntary scream that escaped my mouth made me stop running. Bugger, I’d gone over on my left ankle. I hoped I had saved it in time but I pulled my sock down to give it a diagnostic poke and it felt like a water-balloon. Shit, shit, shit. The weather was perfect for a running but not so good for walking/hobbling. I paced for a minute and then decided I could just about hobble run; I didn’t want the 3 of us getting too cold so I was just going to have to suck it up. Luckily the late afternoon sun broke through the clouds and made the slower-paced journey back to the van a little more comfortable.
Back in the van I got some dry clothes on and D bandaged my ankle, which was already resembling a tennis ball. I tried not to feel sorry for myself and focused on how much I had enjoyed the run. Just as I was losing my cheeriness, D put the keys in the ignition and said the magic words: Fish & Chips.
Our sleep was pretty broken due to some high winds, heavy rain and my ankle, which woke me at least twice. I was surprised at how painful it was and it brought me to tears at one point so I asked D to take the bandage off, just to see if it would help. I knew it would allow it to swell but it was so painful I didn’t know what else to do. We agreed that a visit to a Minor Injuries Unit (MIU) in the morning would be a good idea to check for a fracture.
South Wales NHS did not disappoint as I was triaged by the most lovely and knowledgeable Nurse and X-rayed promptly as she agreed it looked as though I’d done a fair bit of damage. Fortunately my fibula appears to be intact though so I am resting up for a day or so and then will begin my rehab journey. I would highly recommend checking where your nearest MIU is if you live in the UK as it could save you a long wait in A&E but most importantly helps to ease the pressure on that much needed resource. Lets take our sprains, cut fingers and minor burns to MIUs and let A&E deal with when the shit really hits the fan.
I am now at home with my feet up, watching the different shades of red, blue and purple emerge on my ankle and far from feeling totally sorry for myself, all I can think of is how in love I am with D, our little dog and South Wales. I’m so looking forward to getting back on my feet and out on the next adventure.