I have only fessed up to one of my embarrassing stories that occurred while I was in California. The phone-forgetting is definitely the one that I feel more ashamed about. The other story just was a not-so-fun occurrence at a not-so-good time.
The third day in California we decided to take a hike. We had been, up to this point, eating our way through the town and were ready for a bit of exercise. And why would you go to the gym when California is one of the most beautiful places in the world and has hiking paths everywhere you look. So we donned our Michigan gear (in order to take good, instagram-worthy pictures), I grabbed my video camera (art student things), and I led the troupe out to the car. We had a couple things to put in the trunk, so Mackenzie popped it open with her keys and I headed back there to put away the video camera and Mackenzie’s bag of necessities (you know, snacks, waters etc). I was turning toward the trunk, reaching to lift it open when I rolled my left ankle, falling to the ground. Do not fear. The snacks were okay. The camera was okay. I, on the other hand, was not okay.
Let me interrupt you all here by saying that I am not a very clumsy person– I danced for 14 years– but I have fallen a lot (both on purpose and trying out a new trick– I danced for 14 years. Dancers take tumbles. And usually these tumbles hurt a lot but you are able to stand up, shake it off, walk it off, do whatever to get it off, and you’re good to go. So I chilled for a couple moments on the driveway underneath the trunk, doing some deep breathing exercises, and then decided that it was time to get up and shake/walk it off. Clutching the car, I (somewhat) gracefully stood up and gently shook my left foot. Ow. F*%^. Biting my lip, I made my way to the front seat, which Christina didn’t argue about (if you ever really want shotgun, just epically take a tumble. People will feel bad and give you what you want. I wanted the front seat. I got the front seat. Just sayin’).
The hike we were heading to was especially beautiful, according to our expert Californian, Mackenzie, so it was a thirty minute car ride. Perfect. Enough time for my foot to regain its normal feeling and to stop this horrible pounding. Pounding is definitely not my thing. Pounding is not cool. After getting pretty lost (see my earlier blog post) we arrived at the hiking destination and I carefully stepped out of the car. F*&^. My foot was still not feeling too hot. BUT I was not about to be that friend who complains dramatically and refuses to go on the hike that we just drove thirty minutes for just for a little foot pain. So I made a slight grimace, headed to the trunk, removed my video camera, and we headed to the hill, Mackenzie and Christina both exchanging worried glances as I concentrated on putting all my weight on my right foot. I ignored them.
At last we made it to the top, I took some beautiful pictures, and we headed back down. Christina opened up the front car door for me, but I denied my shotgun opportunity, wanting to elevating my poor foot across the roomy backseat. I started to take off my sneaker begrudgingly, frankly because I wanted it to look really bad and I was worried it wouldn’t. I’m a big fan of warrior wounds. If something hurts, it should look like it hurts. And my foot really, really hurt. Mackenzie and Christina both watched in fascination as I carefully removed my sneaker and peeled down my sock. YES! There, on my foot, was a beautiful egg! A beautiful, blue egg, no less. They both grimaced and Christina shook her head. “You’re an idiot. You could’ve just stayed in the car.” I just grinned. I would take “idiot” over “wimp” or “drama queen” any day.
So that is the story of how I sprained my ankle the third day of my vacation. Don’t worry- it is getting better, slowly but surely. The Lynn’s kindly gave me a wrap and I still managed to do everything that I wanted to do… just with slightly less weight on my left foot.