It was clear that despite me thinking I had a calf strain, my summer would be altered.

Plans? Well, those can be changed.

A physio thought a calf strain was likely, but when I returned for a second visit a week later, they recommended an ultrasound. That needed more time for an appointment, and then a weekend intervened. At Monday lunchtime, I received a call to say to get up to the hospital asap and get them to fit you with a cast.

I had a 4 mm tear across my Achilles tendon and a 5 mm tear longitudinally.


So, on Day 18 after the accident, I was popped into a cast for a couple of weeks, then a moonboot for another four weeks.

It was only when I stopped using crutches at the beginning of Week 7 that I started to feel less limited.

Obviously, when you are using crutches, it is really hard to carry anything, so going to the supermarket requires the use of a backpack. Even having a cup of coffee on the couch involved careful planning so a cup could arrive still at the high tide mark.

It takes nine months for an elite athlete to resume training, and while I could never be described as that, my desire to carry a heavy pack in difficult, if not trackless terrain would clearly be a six-month rehabilitation, even if everything goes well.

My second visit to the orthopedic surgeon next week will clarify this.

Whatever happens, I’m okay with it because there’s no alternative.

Maybe I can get some of my writing and websites organised instead this summer.

← Day 9 | Murchison