This morning I was welcomed back from vacation as I went outside to scrape all the ice off my car. As I was moving from the drivers side of the front window to the passenger side, gravity plus ice equaled me sprawling all over the pavement in a matter of seconds. I spent the first half of my day wondering why the entire left side of my body was sore and then trying to forget about the intimate relationship I developed with the parking lot.
I think I sprained my ankle.
So then this entire afternoon I spent thinking about the other two times in my life I have sprained my ankle(s).
Story #1: We all remember that I have many brothers, and having them be brothers instead of sisters inspired many things in my life that weren’t normal for most little girls. Anyways, in our house there are 12 steps going from the hallway by the kitchen to the upstairs where all of our bedrooms are. When we were young children we loved jumping down the stairs. Loved it. We would do it all the time, seriously weakening the patch of wood at the bottom. Well, in the third grade I remember watching in awe as my brothers could clear all 12 steps. All of them! They jumped from the hallway upstairs to the bottom without any problems! I was in serious envy. And after prepping myself, saying that if they could do it I could do it, I slowly climbed up all 12 steps, determined to follow in my brothers footsteps. A few moments later, I sat on the fourth step up, crying in pain.
Not a winner.
It was also worse that I happened to do this just a couple days before our big third grade field trip for “Day on the Prairie” where we would set up teepees and learn about Indians. At least I got a walking stick. Also, not related, my Indian name back then was Falling Leaf. My current Indian name is Gambling Buffalo.
Story #2:
Fast forward to senior year of college. One night on a walk around town, a couple friends and I stumbled upon an abandoned shopping cart from the local grocery store. Naturally, in a town such as ours, with nothing much ever to do, we decided to use the cart for some good times. We took turns pushing each other around and then we made our way to one of our apartments. Good news: this apartment had a pretty legit underground parking lot, with the perfect angle going down for a grocery cart ride.
Note: I am easily influenced by others and I am also not very smart.
We were good at first. One would get in the cart and someone else would hold on to the cart as we ran down the cement. We didn’t want to build up too much speed as there was a cement wall not far from when the parking garage evened out. It was so much fun! But then I got in the cart. And I told my friend “No, no! You don’t need to hold on! I totally got this”
Bad idea.
I was pushed down the slope and instantly regretted my decision of abandonment. My speed increased and in a moment I was crashing straight into that cement wall.
I was sitting with my knees bent; my feet parallel with the cart, and this meant all the force of the collision went straight into my ankles.
Friends ran to my rescue, losing focus on the camera that would have documented this entire tragedy, and with fear that the backlash forced my head into the wall.
No no, my head was fine (physically). I was simply unable to get out of the cart because my ankles were roaring with pain. After a few moments to gather myself, I fell out of the cart and onto the ground.
Both ankles were sprained, making going up and down stairs very difficult.
I never learn.
(footage of story #2 is currently trying to be retrieved. Check back later)
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