I Pretend Not to Have Sprained My Foot

It was an ordinary week. Baseball, work… the usual. On Thursday at baseball practice I was trotting across the grass, hit an uneven spot and twisted my ankle. It didn’t hurt anything more than my pride and I went on with my day.

On Friday morning, there was no mistaking that I’d done something, not to my ankle, but to the top of my foot. No bruising, no swelling, just discomfort. I don’t even know how that’s possible, but I spent two days battling a dull ache that hurt worse every time I pressed on the top of my foot — specifically the tendon that runs along my big toe. I’ve had sprains before, and based on my internet research it’s pretty clearly a Lisfranc injury, which the internet confirms for me is Very Bad Indeed.

Except that after baseball on Saturday night, I ran to catch up with The Assistant and it felt… fine. I wasn’t even wearing good shoes and it felt fine.

Feeling restless as I was, The Assistant and I walked to our usual coffee shop breakfast on Sunday morning. It felt fine on the 3/4-mile walk, so I decided to go for a run.

Three miles. 10:47/mile.

How is it possible that I ran faster than usual with a sprained foot?

I’m weird. I know. I defy medical science.

But getting out for a run gave me a chance to photograph the weird giant phallic asparagus cactus thing that is substantially taller than I am. This appeared out of nowhere a few weeks ago and grows at least six inches per day. It’s the creepiest plant I’ve seen in a long time.

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