Not up to speed on my spastic descent down Camelback mountain? Catch up with Part 1.
I just sat there like an idiot, staring at my rapidly swelling ankle and trying not to cry. Partly because I didn’t want to appear weak, but mostly because there were other people around, and I’m what’s commonly known as an “ugly crier”.
“Are you okay?!” Scott called out while running back to check on me.
“I’m…..fine.” I managed in between my ‘I’m-in-a-lot-of-pain-now-so-I’m-going-to-do-Lamaze’ breathing charades.
“Are you going to be able to make it the rest of the way down?” he asked with legitimate concern.
I was worried about the same thing. We still had over a mile to go. A mile of downhill, uneven, rock-laden ground that demanded a stable ankle.
“I think so,” I winced, “Just give me a minute, okay?”
I continued my over dramatic breathing for an extra thirty seconds, eventually rising to my feet to finish this stupid hike, which ironically, was my idea to begin with.. The first several steps were excruciating, but after four or five minutes, my ankle felt totally fine! I mean, it didn’t look fine, but the hiking wasn’t even bothering it.
“Scott, my ankle feels totally great, now! It must be the swelling that’s keeping it stable or something. If I roll it in a circle it hurts, but walking down all these rocks isn’t even a problem!”
The second this overconfident declaration left my lips, it happened again. Same ankle, same collapse to the ground, same lamaze breathing to prevent an extremely public ugly-cry breakdown.
“Trats, are you sure you’re alright?” Scott asked quietly while examining my ankle.
“I dont’ know…” I spit out between breaths, “I think heard a pop that time. It really hurts.”
“I’m worried you might have broken it.” Scott confessed, while contorting my massive cankle into various unnatural angles, asking me which ones hurt. Scott spent three years working in orthopedics — if he was concerned, I was concerned.
“What do you feel?” I asked, my voice thick with panic. “Did I break it?”
“Possibly. The only way to tell is with an X-ray.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. I was about to return home to an insane work schedule, not to mention a to-do list that’s length rivaled Dante’s Inferno. I didn’t have time for an X-ray! And I surely wasn’t getting one while on vacation.
“Here,” Scott offered, “Let me carry you.”
“No.” I insisted. “I don’t want to be carried.”
“C’mon,”he urged, “Let me give you a piggy back ride.”
“Katrina…if it’s broken, walking on it could make it a lot worse.”
“I think a piggy back ride would make it a lot worse.” I countered.
“Come here,” Scott cooed in a baby voice while lowering himself down into squat position, “Get up here.”
That was all the motivation I needed to rise up off my haunches and complete the death march. Let’s face it — the only thing worse than a public ugly cry is a public piggy back ride.
Thankfully, my ankle felt much better after a few minutes of walking. I was able to finish the hike, and spend the rest of the day on my feet without much trouble. By the time we returned to the hotel room eight hours later, it had doubled in size and was causing a ridiculous looking limp…but we were leaving for the airport at noon the next day, so it’s not like it ruined my vacation, or anything.
Come to think of it…it actually made my vacation…better?
Yes, I realize that sounds delusional…but take it from me — my hiking injury came with a lot of perks. Don’t believe me? Read through this list and then tell me you’re not considering spraining your ankle during your next weekend getaway.
How spraining my ankle on a hike made my vacation amazeballs
- Because I blamed the sprain on my unsupportive New Balance shoes, Scott immediately took me to Nordstrom to buy a new pair of Nike Free 5.0s. No questions asked.
- It was the perfect excuse to indulge in a post-hike couples massage.
- It reaffirmed that Scott has a deep, piggy-back offering love for me.
- My crazy-looking limp got me lots of attention.
- My crazy-looking limp also got me to the front of every line at the airport. (And In-n-Out Burger.)
- Upon returning home, my CrossFit coach forbid me from doing box jumps as a result of my injury. No box jumps for an entire week? Darn.
The best part? The swelling is mostly gone, and my ankle feels this close to being back at one-hundred percent. Praise the Lord, as I don’t think I could handle a super long recovery like the one I had with my last sprain.
Long story short, my ankle feels great and I got a new pair of shoes out of the deal. Turns out having a pregnant Kim Kardashian ankle isn’t so bad, after all.