No, this isn't a tribute to Britney Spears' appalling come-back attempt.
I'm referring to my stupid ankle, sprained and swollen like a black and blue balloon, again, for what seems like the umpteenth time, just after I got back from Seattle today. All because I am too stubborn to admit that my body can no longer handle what my mind demands of it.
How did I become an ankle-spraining expert?
It all started when I was playing basketball and sprained it real bad when I was 16, I was on crutches for almost 2 months and it hasn't felt right ever since. It was explained by one doctor to me that once your ankle is injured like that, the nerves may not grow back right and your ankle gets "dumb", not being able to sense and react to uneven terrain, making you more prone to future sprains.
And thus the cycle begins- I would sprain it, be on crutches for a few weeks, start rehab (but never finish), gradually feel better, forget all about the last sprain, get reckless, and sprain ankle again. Rinse, and repeat.
So, my ankle-spraining ritual is not unlike the Harry Potter movie sequels- it happens about every other year, and they just keep coming.
This time, what got me is this short but steep (1000 ft gain in <1 mile) hiking trail that's only 15 minutes from home, the Claremont Canyon Regional Preserve.
This picture doesn't do this trail justice (the pix is from Wikipedia, BTW). The gorgeous panoramic view at the summit (together with your boiling blood) makes you feel so renewed and invigorated.
Unfortunately, it also instills a sense of invincibility and recklessness.
I quickly realized that I was going down too quickly when I started losing my footing just after the descent. But it was too late, I heard a pop in my ankle and I was immediately gripped with pain and a terrible realization of what's to come from my years of experience. 2 hours later, I crippled back to the car with the help of a friendly stranger and a very patient Bryson.
I knew perfectly well that it's going to be risky going up by myself with Bryson. But once you're faced with the challenge, the prospect of giving in to your fear just isn't something I can stomach.
And it's this same mentality that has given me so much trouble with my ankle through the years. I've always subscribed to the motto that "if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything." Well, maybe my ankle is just too darn dumb for this mind-over-matter attitude.
I mean, other than "oops", what can I say?
