A tale of the broken

Injured. I’m injured again.

It’s like a never-ending cycle where the gods have decided that I’m not fit for physical activity. I can’t even be angry about it anymore because it has happened countless times. I’m more sad and disappointed, but that’s where you have to dig deep and channel that motivation. It’s from these injuries that fuels the desire to get better, faster, stronger. What’s the point of feeling sorry for yourself? Nothing improves as a result of pity.

Two nights ago I sprained my ankle in a game of Oztag by landing on a player’s foot and rolling mine. I can’t say it was the most exciting way to go down, but I knew that the game was over for me the moment I reconnected with the ground. It only took a moment to realise that the timing of this injury couldn’t be any more inconvenient.

We were:

  • 3 games away to placing in the semi-final for our Tuesday night competition,
  • 2 games away from our most anticipated game of the season (decider game against our rival team),
  • 2 weeks away from the all-day VSA Oztag Day tournament, and
  • 2 weeks away from this year’s City2Surf that I’ve been looking forward to attempting for the first time.

It’s worse because it’s the same ankle injury I experienced just shy of 1 year ago, unsurprisingly in the same sport. Only last time I didn’t give it much rest so recovery probably took three times as long. This time I’m determined to rest and recover properly so I can get back onto the field, as well as into the gym again, in as little time as possible. I’m already feeling the sluggish effects of being bedridden and not being active, but I’m promising myself that it won’t be for much longer!

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