My husband and I were walking around a track, warming up before my workout, discussing what workout I would do. I wanted to do speed jump rope, even though I don’t go very long before I miss a jump, but a person has to start somewhere. Also I thought jumping rope would give my quads and shins a chance to heal.
My husband, thought that the impact of landing would still be hard on my body, and with my extra weight, he actually named an amount! that I would be more prone to getting injured. We went back and forth between the two options. My argument was: I had done a few test jumps and it felt good. Lee insisted that it would be safer to walk the hill: less impact = less chance for injury.
Admittedly, he has been doing this longer and is in better shape than I am. I realize men have some advantages, but he has had his heavy times too, so he has been successful and reads a lot on fitness. I was starting to consider his suggestion, and I also acknowledged, to myself, that he is usually right, “Barely Standing” is a good case in point. Still I wasn’t completely convinced, and we engaged in some good natured teasing regarding who had the most injuries, and my husband’s small ankles. Okay I admit I did most of the teasing, he lovingly took it.
Many, many years ago I had suggested that we try ice skating, everyone makes it look so fun and easy. Lee said that it was dangerous enough balancing on a thin blade of metal add to that his small ankles he was certain he would end up breaking his ankle. I teased him saying that unlike him I don’t have small ankles, and I putting my arms out wide said “look at me I am built like a tank!” and I didn’t stop there, NO, I reminded him that while he has been injured several times, that I have never actually been injured, just extremely sore.
By that time we had finished up the warm up , and I had made my decision to go with my husband’s suggestion, at least it will work my glutes. I started up the hill slow, but felt that I wasn’t doing myself any credit by just walking, so I started speeding up. Down at the bottom, Lee was timing and chastising me to slow down. About a quarter of the way or more up the hill, I moved over into the grass, the worn track was hard, packed and bumpy, and caught myself slipping several times. I made it to the top in 36.5 seconds. I knew from sprinting that my baseline should improve several times as my muscles warmed and loosened up.
My Rocky Pose.
The whole point of HIIT training is to get your heart rate up, and I felt that the hill was a good idea. I did a Rocky victory pose and headed back down. The hill was really steep, so I knew I would have to take it slow. I measured my steps, and carefully worked my way down. I had already decided to stay in the grass. In the back of my head I realized that if I wasn’t careful I could end up at the bottom faster than I had gotten to the top. Going straight down didn’t feel right, so I angled myself and side stepped putting one foot in front of the other. I was making good progress, while still going slow, and I figured this would give my heart time to slow down and I would be able to go back up right away.
At one point I looked up, and could see that I was maybe 25 feet from where my husband was standing, and maybe 10 feet from the bottom. Doing good, almost there, step, step, next thing I know I’m sliding uncontrollably, my feet pop out from underneath me, and I started sliding and falling backwards. I was flailing and desperately trying to regain my footing. I must have been successful, because my feet are back on the ground, but they are moving on their own, and as I looked down at my leading foot, I watch in fascination as the outside of my shoe, as if in slow motion, is slowly rolling the opposite direction that my body is moving. Next thing I remember is hearing and feeling what felt like a cracking, pop like sound. and my foot gave out from under me. My husband watched in horror as he heard a loud POP and my left hand and ankle smacked into the ground.
Later I asked my husband what he saw. He told me that after he heard the POP, it got blurry. To be honest the image of me falling, and landing hard on my left wrist and ankle is burned into his brain it’s an image that keeps replaying. When he did tell me what he remembers he kept putting his hands on his head. The memory, images and feelings are still so strong it was hard to relive.
I don’t know how many times I rolled before I stopped close to the bottom, Lee ran over to see what was injured. I am told I used the F bomb, several times. I only remember saying it once, but I do remember the pain. Pain like that is hard to describe unless you have experienced it yourself. I don’t know what the innate nature is that when you are in that kind of pain you keep moving around. I was tossing and turning on the grass, as if it would help me escape from the searing pain in my ankle. I was pulling out chunks of grass, all while cussing like a sailor. ALL I could think was, My ankle, My ankle. Lee kept asking me to hold still, so that I wouldn’t injure myself more, and he could get close enough to check for injuries. He asked if it was my wrist or leg and I said my ankle. I thought a bad sprain, there was no bone sticking out, and barely any bruising or swelling, and after I settled down the pain wasn’t sooo bad. I told him “I’m fine, I don’t think I broke anything.”
Lee pulled the car up to the grass, and a nice passerby asked if we needed help and together they got me to the car. I couldn’t put weight on my left foot, but it didn’t look injured nothing a little Epsom Salt soak can’t fix. I didn’t want to overreact, because every time I have thought I had something serious and went to the doctor I was told it was nothing that waiting it out can’t fix, but while Lee was talking about the Epsom salt soak, I had tried to move my foot and I was worried. I felt something move that had never moved before. The decision was to go to the ER to have it checked out just to be sure.
It was a busy night at the hospital, one of the attendants said the previous night they had attended to 400+ people and admitted 22. so it was an hour before my x-ray, and another hour before I saw a doctor. I will say I was doing okay, as long as I didn’t put weight on my foot, or move my foot in anyway, and the staff were lovely.
The doctor came in and she asked me to tell her what happened. I repeated the story to her, and then she said, well you did break it. It is only the fibula. the small bone, on the outside of the ankle, and that it went back into place, so she had consulted with the orthopedic doctor and I would be sent home with a boot, crutches and instructions to call the orthopedist the next day.
This is the pic of my left and right ankle a little compare and contrast. We didn’t think it was that bad at the track because there wasn’t that much swelling. This is about 48 hours after.
You know when your mother says put on clean underwear before going out, because you never know if you will end up in the hospital. She should also have said shave your legs, but we never plan on ending up in the ER.
In less than two minutes I went from my victory pose to a defeated foot.