I think there might be some kind of genetic glitch in my family that makes us get injured doing stupid, everyday things that other people sail right through. I should have suspected this when my Dad told us all the story of our great, great aunt who fell off of a cliff while picking Huckleberries. (Berry picking is another genetically ingrained addiction.) I guess a juicy one was just out of reach!
Then my cute little sister sprained her ankle during a relay marathon. It doesn't sound silly at first...then you learn she was jumping up to high-five someone when is happened.
Yesterday I followed suit, although the results weren't nearly as serious. The kids and I were playing at the park down the street. Jonny, James and I scooter-jacked Anthony's scooter out from under him! Just to set the scene, this isn't a regular scooter, it's a fusion, so you can carve on it. Slightly more dangerous and way more fun. Well, the little boys and I were racing away with our prize, when we took a turn just a little too fast. We all fell off, and luckily I was the only one hurt.
The painful ankle seemed better in minutes and we went on with our evening. By bath time it was twingy again. By bedtime I couldn't walk. So, I've figured out that if I keep it up and iced, it's absolutely fine. My plan is to rest and ice with little spurts of super-productive activity in between. (Writing in my blog goes in the rest category.)
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