Arg. I sprained my ankle. I was due. It’s been about a year since my last ankle sprain. Thankfully this one doesn’t seem to be as bad as that one. When Mandy and I went hiking over the weekend I tweaked it (slight roll) and was paranoid the rest of that hike that I was going to really ding it. That’s how it usually happens. I have minor “sprains” before the Big One shuts me down.
Last year I was heading out on a trail run and stepped on a piece of gravel in a parking lot as I got up to ramming speed. This time the coup de grace was walking at normal speed on flat ground. I don’t know if my shoes just caught wrong with a little extra friction…whatever.
Anyway, I ended up taking the day off today because the mechanics of getting myself cleaned up, dressed, and driven to work was overwhelming. I woke up about 2 am last night and went to the bathroom. I didn’t take a crutch with me (I actually have them, but we got them for Bean and they’re for someone up to 5’2”; I’m 5’9”) and when I got back to bed my ankle throbbed like a glowing hot ember in the darkness. Needless to say on top of being gimp I was also rocking the insomniac’s bedhead this morning.
Otherwise there’s nothing much to report this week. It’s been uneventful. Veteran’s Park was a bust earlier in the week. Mud, tree crews, four hundred dog walkers, punk kids off for Presidents Day…the usual. Then I was busy at work the rest of the week or the weather looked bad so I didn’t much ride. And it looks like I won’t be running for at least a couple of weeks. And likely I’m back to square one: running at the park where it’s flat and safe. I had started running the four mile loop from home which involves a couple of stout hills. I’m going to have to work back up to that it looks like.
I really hate these things. I’d almost rather break my leg. No, I really don’t want to break a bone, but the sprains in my life have been nothing but annoying and frustrating. The worst was about fourteen years ago (geez, it’s always this time of year!) right before Boone was born. I was hardly off crutches and ambulatory when Mandy went into labor. That time I really did think I had broken my ankle. It immediately swole up, turned black, and I almost passed out. I have an aversion to passing out or otherwise I think I would have. Or puked. Aversion to that too.
Yeah, all of my sprains tend to be around February or March. In 2013 right after we’d moved back to Kentucky I took a bad spill as I rolled my ankle while trail running at Pilot Knob. That was sheer stupidity. I hadn’t been trail running prior and decided to go out right before dusk on a hard trail in February wearing only a t-shirt and sweatpants. I had poor cell service and had only told Mandy I was going to run not where. Thankfully I only had a quarter of a mile to hobble back to the car. But it was a manual, and I had sprained my left ankle. It’s always my left ankle. Someone passed me a shifty left ankle gene.
So here I am. I’d say don’t feel sorry for me, but I am kind of a moron. Feel sorry for my friends and close family that have to put up with me. Keep them in your prayers for sure.
And maybe next winter I just hibernate…