Two years ago, I broke my right ankle slipping on snow-covered ice. I didn’t just break it though; I had a trimalleolar fracture plus dislocation. In laymen’s terms, I broke my ankle real good. I was in a cast for six weeks and a boot for something like two months. Physical therapy dominated most of 2018.
It seems like yesterday. Thankfully, it doesn’t feel like yesterday.
My ankle healed nicely, so much so that my son and I ran the Racin’ Bacon 5K at BaconFest this November (his first 5K, my second). The healed ankle is not perfect; while the steel plate and pins in my ankle may make it stronger than it once was (I’m living the geek cyborg dream!) the muscles and tendons still get sore, and they complain if I don’t exercise and/or stretch enough. They also complain if I exercise and/or stretch too much, so there’s a balance there that I’m still trying to find.
The same was true a year ago, but it’s much better. It is not, however, 100%. My right foot (and ankle) is still slightly bigger than my left foot, which means that when I go hiking, I need to wear different weight socks (something I learned the hard way this summer while backpacking on the Appalachian Trail in New Jersey). I’m back to jogging, but to avoid arthritis and other complications in my ankle, I can’t jog as often or run as hard as I’d like. Instead, I need to mix things up by swimming, rowing, and biking.
The orthopedic surgeon and the physical therapist said it would take about two years to make a full recovery, and they were right. I’m hesitant to say the #BrokenAnkleSaga is over because there are lingering challenges … but it’s as close to done as it’s going to get.
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My new running sneakers, purchased when I started running again during the #BrokenAnkleSaga. They have extra padding to reduce the impact (and stress) of jogging on my ankle.