I Said “Go!” But My Right Ankle Said, “No!” I Blame What Happened Next on the Sneakers.

Okay. I am starting to think my legs, feet, and ankles have grown weary of carrying me around all these…um, 28 years. Watch yourself. I’m sticking with 28. I agree with you that is way too soon for body parts to start aching and complaining and giving up on life, but my right ankle seems to have missed this memo. Before I tell you what happened, let me describe exactly which part of the ankle I am referring to. You know where your ankle is, on the outside of your foot? Where a lot of females, including yours truly got tattooed in the 90s? That’s not it. I’m talking about the part of your ankle on the inside of your foot…the forgotten inner ankle joint area diagonally above that indention over your heel. Yeah. There. Mine decided to abandon me.

     Here’s what happened. I’ve been running on the treadmill for approximately three weeks now. I used to do the elliptical machine (I was crazy with it!), water aerobics, and speed walk on the treadmill. I started running because there’s a corporate challenge coming up and I will be running 3.5 miles through Central Park with people who have no lungs. I used to be one of those people who ran three to five miles a day. That was when I was 28. It was also a few years prior to major surgery. About a year and a half ago I had a Laparoscopic Myomectomy and had to start slowly exercising again. I know you’re probably confused about my age now. I’m always 28 and plan to be for at least ten more years. Hopefully that cleared that up for you. So I’ve been running on the treadmill and pushing myself a little more each day to get up to 3.5 miles so I can run this thing. There’s really no reason for the dedication other than to simply say I did it. It’s a personal goal in this crazy scheme of mine to defy age and gravity, I mean, stay healthy. I’m kidding. Of course I mean both.

     I’m not going to lie to you. The more I build my exercise program, the more my body talks to me and I find we are not always of one accord. The parts often have their own opinions about how much or how hard I should work out. I don’t mind that. I only mind when they shout at me about it because that’s when, time and again, I need a doctor. The last time one of my body parts gave me a shout out I ended up on the floor behind my treadmill. Not cool. I am way too cute to be falling off a treadmill. Since then, I try to pay attention to what they have to say. Here’s the thing, though. Sometimes they sneak attack me.

     I ran and ran that day. It felt good. I pumped my arms and could see the muscle definition forming. I was relaxed and focused. When I checked in with each body part, they were too. I ran three miles in 33 minutes. I was back on track. I finished my workout, showered, returned to the office, and beamed from ear to ear for the remainder of the day.

     The next day however, I opened my eyes, stretched, and proceeded to get out of bed only to find that my ankle refused to do her job and support the right side of my body. Instead she sent sharp, excruciating screams up my inner right shin and to my brain that said, “No!” every time I said, “Go!” I tried a few more times. “Go!” “No!” “Go!” “I said, NO!” I literally had to hold onto the dresser to keep from falling to the floor. I rolled my ankle to the left and back to the right. Perhaps she just needed a bit of a stretch, I thought. I tried to take another step and she screamed, “Daggummit NO!” I immediately allowed my left foot to compensate for my right. Unfortunately for me, I had left my gym sneakers in the middle of the floor the night before and they were now in the way of me successfully planting my left foot on the ground. I stepped, instead, on a turned over sneaker, that turned over more, and caused me to take a spill onto my bedroom floor. All of my body parts screamed in fear. “Ah! Watch out! Oh my! Help! Umpgth! Thud!” I fell on my left side, careful not to bang my right foot against anything, and thus, holding my right leg suspended sideways in the air. The good news is my right ankle was not harmed more by this little misadventure. The bad news is that I twisted my left knee as I stumbled and fell. I tried to figure out how I was ever going to walk again as I now had a sharp pain in my left knee and throbbing heat in my right ankle. At least before the sneakers tripped me I could have hopped to work. It was probably time to replace them anyway, hence the initial problem with my ankle.  And now I'm going to have to run in pain because we will defy age and gravity! Those stupid sneakers.