Tag: broken ankle

Five months

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 34 Comments
Waiting on the “provider” at urgent care on Feb. 21. Is it just me,
or does “The Provider” sound like a third-tier Marvel superhero?

That’s how long it’s been since I broke my right ankle, getting an early jump (har de har har) on lockdown.

This one-two punch certainly restricted my movement, even without the intervention of the 101st Vanborne, which is said to be en route. Since Feb. 21, I haven’t ventured north of Tramway and Interstate 25, east of Carnuel, south of I-40, or west of Interstate 25.

In an ordinary year I would have hightailed it at least once by now, to Arizona or Colorado. At the very least I would have cycled around the bosque, ridden up to the Triangle, or even tackled a short tour. If the State is going to track me, I want the sonsabitches to work up a sweat.

But 2020 has been anything but ordinary, in terms of personal mobility, global pandemic, and creeping fascism.

Bad ankle! Bad, bad, bad! Get in that boot and stay there, thinking about what you’ve done.

Re: personal mobility. I gassed up the Forester the day before breaking the ankle, but I didn’t fill ’er up again until last Thursday.

This means that in the past five months, I’ve driven maybe 300 miles, which is what I get from a tank of gas when motoring around Albuquerque. Bum ankle notwithstanding, I’m pretty sure I’ve walked more than that.* For sure I’ve cycled more (943.8 miles).

By the way, this cycling mileage is not impressive, even for a 66-year-old gimp. My best week since the mishap saw me ride all of 80 miles. The worst? Three-point-five. Seriously. It was March 7, I was on the trainer with my Darth Bootsy footwear, and I lasted a whole half hour.

The good news is, I’m biking and hiking regularly, and the ankle continues its slow, steady rehabilitation.

The bad news is, I don’t think I can outrun one of those federales in the cammy-jammies if he catches me off the bike. And that dodgy right foot is the one I use to kick annoyances in the balls.

* OK, so I’ve only walked 123.7 miles. I had to check.

Eight weeks

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments
No brace. No boot. Just a shoe, a sock, and me.

TGIF .. WTGAB!

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.

https://youtu.be/gsPs_SkwItc

 

 

’Burb-ees

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 10 Comments
When a real-estate agent shows you a house near this view, you pull out your checkbook and ask, “How much did you say again?”

Looks can be deceiving.

At first glance, you might think, “Hey, O’Grady’s taken his social distancing back of beyond again.”

Hey, it’s not a speedy trail run, but at least I’m bipedal again.

Nope. I took this shot from  the east gutter of Camino de la Sierra NE, a wide suburban street that hugs the skirts of the Sandias, midway through a very pleasant 40-minute walk.

Six weeks after I broke my right ankle the limp is mostly gone, and the ankle itself feels like it’s regained a degree of stability. But I think it’s gonna be a while before I trust it to keep me upright in the boonies.

In the meantime, all things considered, a brisk stroll through the ’Burque ’burbs is a fine upgrade from a slow crutch around the house.

Just ankling along

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 25 Comments

Hey, when you have extra daylight to burn, you might as well break out the matches.

I haven’t shot any video for Adventure Cyclist lately because a bicycle reviewer with a broken ankle isn’t much of a cyclist, let alone a touring cyclist. And we viejos get rust in the cranium if we don’t keep buffing away up there.

So here’s a little mental exercise for me and a little cheap entertainment for you. I can proclaim without fear of contradiction that it’s worth every penny you’ll pay for it.

Little feat

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 20 Comments
I’m not jumping for joy yet, but spring seems to have sprung nicely.
My new sailin’ shoe.

Tootsie Voodoo said I could lose the Darth Gimp boot and crutches, so I traded up for a lace-up brace that I can wear with socks and shoes.

I may have limped in just under the wire, too. Management was said to be mulling whether to reschedule all non-acute cases.

“Sorry, bub. Here’s a hacksaw. You’ll have to find your own peg and parrot. Next!”

Sounds like a great excuse to do the “Old Folks’ Boogie.”

So you know that you’re over the hill
When your mind makes a promise that your body can’t fill
Try and get a rise from an atrophied muscle,
And the nerves in your thigh just quivers and fizzles