It’s been six weeks.
That’s a long time to baby an ankle.
Let me give you some really good advice: do NOT sprain your ankle.
I’m not talking about just rolling it, or twisting it so it hurts a little. I’m talking about the type of sprain where you can’t even put weight on it for hours, where it swells up like a golf ball instantly and where the bruising drains into your toes and runs up your shin, where you can’t balance on it even with a brace AND shoe on, and where you cut your other leg shaving because you foolishly tried to balance on the bad leg in the shower. Don’t do that.
It’s frustrating that after six LONG weeks (they’re never short weeks when you can’t do what you love), my ankle still hurts. It’s also still swollen. But it’s been SIX weeks and do you know what that means?
I can play soccer again.
The doctor said so.
So I will wrap it, put on a brace and go running tonight because if I’m REALLY out of shape (instead of just sort of), I will be worthless in my game this Saturday morning.
Aren’t you excited for me?
So much so, I just used THIRTEEN exclamation points. That’s a lot for a girl that hardly uses any because excessive exclamation points are the bane of my existence (as are LOLs).*
*Did you know that there’s a Greasemonkey script that dumps extra exclamation points that might appear on websites? Yeah, I know, it’s totally nerdy that I know that, but also grammatically COOL that I do.