I am going to rename this blog: Swim Bike Klutz.
Yesterday, I was zooming out my front door for Court (carrying ten bags, a file and a notebook) I step on one of those little rolly pinecone-like things. Right on the front porch.
Twist! Left ankle.
I drop bags, curse the world. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m thinking, and really, nothing hurt. Whew. Dodged that one.
Approximately eight hours later, I am zooming into the house, returning from Court and crunch, twist – AGAIN!? The same damn rolly pinecone! The same ankle? Are you serious??
Yes, I am totally serious. Only this time, my pride and my ankle hurt a little. I drop my bags, pick up that pinecone and throw it with a vengeance into the neighbor’s yard, screaming something like, “Curse you, tiny pinecone” (another Despicable Me joke). I limp into the house. By the end of the night, I am not feeling any real pain, so I’m thinking that I avoided two ankle crises in one day – that’s awesome.
However, it’s six o’clock in the morning and my ankle is bothering me from the fight with nature yesterday. But it’s fine. Ice, Aleve, repeat, and I’ll be good to go.
Today is yes, another rest day spent whining about my boo-boos.
I’m always hurting my ankles. The Expert jokes that I should wear Reebok Pumps all the time. For constant ankle support. Luckily, the ankle I destroy always seems to be the left one – which already contains hardware from a break back in 1994.
When I step on roly pinecones, I am convinced that my hardware holds my entire foot together.
I really must start watching where I’m going. What a crying shame to have triathlon dreams dashed due to dog doo or other unfortunate twist of nature.