New Years was quite pleasant. I spent it with good friends at Casa de Libby. We hung out, talked, drank a bit and shared our favorite memories from the past 365 days. The next morning many of us roused our somewhat addled and merriment-aftermathed selves and headed out for the Hangover Classic: the annual pickup game on January 1st. I rose (un-hungover) and biked down to the fields. Most of the early arrivals were older and not terribly strong players. A game began and I played well. About 10 points into the day (maybe 10:45am) I went up for a disc. In so doing, I planted (on the left, as always) and sprung upward. Except I planted directly on another players foot, my ankle began to roll as I was leaping. Halfway up I knew something was wrong. As I came down my foot was tucked under. And while I know very little about human physiology, I do know that shoe makers put the cleats on the bottom of shoes because feet work better when their bottoms make contact with the ground. Not surprisingly, when the top of your foot makes contact with the ground things are not going so well. I guess if my foot was supposed to work like that there would be cleats instead of laces there.
I went down. And stayed down.
Usually if I get hurt, I hobble off, collect some sympathy and maybe a handful of advil and then in a few minutes I'm back out there good as new. Almost immediately I knew it wasn't going to be like that. My ankle began to quiver. I can't really fully describe the feeling, but I like the term I used to explain it to Jared. I said, my ankle doesn't really hurt yet, but it's shaking, it's "scared." I stood up and my ankle worked alright. I tossed a little on the sidelines, and realized that simply throwing was hurting it. So I laid down, elevated my ankle, and took more Ibu. Soon thereafter Liz and Paul arrived and I began to wear Liz's anklebrace.
My ankle began to feel better so I was able to stay and watch my friends play. I heckled, and when Libby brought my camera (it was left at her place) I had a purpose. I was going to photograph the game I love. I took about 110 photographs. Many of them are wholly worthless, and only a few are even interesting. And from those few there are a couple that are particularly nice, or so I think.
I will post those photos here, or to flickr later today or later this week.
I'm able to post today because I'm not about to go to work. After frisbee I went with Paul and Jared to dinner and then to Paul's to watch the Redskins game. When I finally examined my ankle it was swollen to a degree I've never seen. Come to think of it, I've never had anything swell, and so it's somewhat novel to see your ankle look like a grapefruit. The novel visual was combined with the novel concept of intense pain. Usually I can walk most things off, or just kind of play through it or at least deal with it. This is something entirely different. Right now, walking the 8 steps (trust me I know how many it is) to the bathroom is incredibly painful. It's odd to fear having to use a body part. Very foreign.
On the plus side, I have a wonderful laptop. Wireless internet. And a chance to read the 10-15 books I've started.
This week promises to be an exciting one. Jesseca returns to DC today. Eager to see her. Ann comes on Thurdsday. Jen comes to town on Saturday. It's a cavalcade of exes. Since melissa lives in town, I could pretty easily have an ex girlfriend convention. We could have breakout sessions, topics like: Aaron's messy room: Was he raised in a barn?, or Beard, Goatee, Shadow or Clean Shaven: Tolerating the face of change.
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