Eight weeks

No brace. No boot. Just a shoe, a sock, and me.


That’s short for “Thank God it’s Friday … without that goddamn ankle brace!”

Eight weeks to the day after I broke my right ankle running the Foothills Trails, I was noodling along under sunny skies on a bicycle, in cycling shoes, on clipless pedals, with said ankle blessedly free of all wraps, braces, boots, and other encumbrances.

On Wednesday I went for a 2.4-mile walk without the brace, but that was an accident. I just forgot to put the damn’ thing on and didn’t notice I wasn’t wearing it until about 20 minutes into the outing.

“Oh, well,” I sez to myself I sez. “A man must carry on.”

See? It is possible to forget, just like Doctor Mike says.



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8 Responses to “Eight weeks”

  1. Kathleen Holoch Says:

    That is something to be thankful for!

  2. khal spencer Says:

    Congrats. And yep, a man’s got to know his limits.

  3. Pat O'Brien Says:

    Yea on healing up on time with no complications. The movie clips are depressing me in this crazy time.
    How about this one.

  4. Patrick O'Grady Says:

    And we just got the first hummingbird of the year at the feeder. More winning. So. Much. Winning.

  5. SAO' Says:

    Didja hear … it’s the new golf


  6. NotJusuk Says:

    Only old people wear velcro shoes.

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      Y’dern tootin’. Cain’t tie no laces an’ that Boa thing sounds like a dangerous serpent t’me. Speakin’ a snakes, I got the rheumatiz s’bad most days I can hardly fumble out m’tallywhacker for a leak without pissin’ on m’own Velcro shoes some’eres betwixt m’fly and the commode.

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