The Isle of Man is a beautiful place, as are most places once you move beyond the pale of humankind’s touch. The hills, heather, fern and gorse covered, would be very familiar to anyone from the UK or Ireland, although the constancy of the sea crashing into the cliffs far below you offer a different spin from inland hill walking. There is that additional touch that being on an Island brings. A feeling that everything is in easy reach, that all are connected and protected by the coastal barrier. With that, comes that indefinable island atmosphere and a commensurate relaxed attitude to things.
I suppose I should address the question I tasked myself with. Will abusing my legs, specifically, my knees and ankles – ligaments, muscles and tendons – for 4 days of hard miles improve or irradicate the tendonitis I suffer from?
While the answer is at first no, I have noticed some things. When I wake up at night there is no pain in my left ankle. The first weight bearing step doesn’t make me wince. The pain comes back pretty soon as I start to move around, but that small change is a very pleasant thing.
Undeniably, the pain levels increase as you push yourself up and down steep hills, but I found that it reached a peak and stayed there. If you can cope with that, you can eventually set it aside and have more of those glorious moments when you round a corner, and it is as if the whole world is laid out for you in all its beauty and majesty.
The next most important question is: will I go back to finish? At the moment I’m prevaricating. Did I enjoy myself enough to outweigh the pain? I think as I drive around over the next few days and look up at the hills, I might feel again that mystical draw that will drive me back before winter.
We’ll see.