The Ankle Sprain of Ivan Ilyich

35 minutes elliptical

This morning I woke up and my ankle hurt. More than yesterday. In fact, more than it had in a while. I went off to work to bake, a 5:30am start time, deciding that I wasn't going to let it get in the way of my day. I was going to stick to my game plan.

Except that I've never had an injury where worrying about pain is even a choice. Really. Either my own craziness or the horse industry or both ensured that I muscle my way through all the various breaks, bruises, concussions, spills, etc that came my way. I've ridden with a broken back, a leg the size of a tree trunk, and bruised toes. And that's just the stuff that I know of. You had to, one because if you didn't ride you didn't get paid, and two, the horses couldn't learn that a cute buck or spin was all it took to get out of a days work. That and the mentality of the sport.

So with this injury, it's been the first time that I've actually gotten the chance to think about the pain as an indicator of participation ableness. And think I have. It's not the worst pain I've ever had, not by a long shot, in fact, it doesn't even really hurt all that much. But I do know that running is not riding. Riding doesn't have much impact. At all. It's going to hurt to ride with a broken bone, but it's not going to rebreak the bone or do any other permanent damage. Running is nothing but impact. It jangles everything, so everything matters.

I came home from work and it didn't feel too much better. But it didn't feel too much worse, either. I thought about how bad the pain was, where it radiated from, whether or not it hurt more on impact or on coming off the ground, if it was achy or stabbing, and what it all meant for my planned elliptical cycle. Yes, it was a sprain, it was bound to hurt a little bit, if I waited until there was zero pain it could be at least a month away. But was this pain the don't work it kind? Or the work through it kind?

Suddenly I felt like the title character in a short story written by Tolstoy. In it, Ivan Ilyich laments and scrutinizes his own painful death every second of every day, until the pain itself becomes a separate character in his life.

Which is how my sprained ankle felt. I was thinking about it so much, so constantly aware of it, that it had grown into something bigger than itself. Yes, it is to be taken seriously. But no, it's not the end of the world, nor should it define me right now. I am not an ankle sprain.

So on went the sneakers and onto the elliptical I went. When it was over, I felt fantastic. I iced the ankle, and it felt loose and lubed up. No more pain even when I walked. And now, hours later, it still feels great.

Tomorrow, when I wake up, instead of "oh, the pain! the pain!" I will think "Ok, time to go buy those textbooks!" There's only room for one main character in my life.