Tag Archives: sprained ankle recovery

Memories and Gratitude

Wow, I realized earlier today that it’s been exactly one year since I sprained my ankle – time flew!

It was my left ankle, and it healed good as new.  That was a couple of very sad ballet-free weeks last summer though.  I remember I was extra sad because I had been working on echappe-releves and I was getting the hang of it.  And seeing my foot all swollen and weak, I wondered how long it would be before I could try stuff like that again (answer: a little over a month, to be safe).  I worried about losing overall leg strength, too. Floor barre to the rescue!

Luckily, that fall I met Teacher, who taught us all foot and ankle strengthening exercises with the Theraband.  Now I often forget that I ever even sprained that ankle!

And every day I remember to be grateful for my mobility 🙂

Read about how the sprained ankle happened at:


Also, I wrote a private post (for anonimity), and could really use some thoughts and/or advice. After all, no one I know in “real life” shares my ballet obsession!  The post can be found at


The password is the same as the password of my last private post, for those of you that have emailed me before.  For the rest of you (or if you forgot, lol), you can email me at balletandorbust@inbox.com for the password. Please provide your location; country, or state if in the US, unless you’re a fellow blogger.


February 1: Small Lessons In Gratitude

I write this  as a form of closure, hoping that my knowledge that this story has been told will make it cease to repeat endlessly through my mind.  Made an attempt at writing on this topic in my offline journal a year ago, but I wasn’t ready. Hopefully now is the right time…

(Also, this post is very, very tangential to any ballet-related stuff and is a bit heavier that my usual posts, so feel free to skip if you’re feeling emotional. Or if discussions (or pictures) of automobile accidents upset you…)

Three years ago to the date, a life-altering event occured, filling me with a barrage of mixed feelings: gratefulness, fear, extreme sadness, guilt, anger, relief, regret, anxiety, disbelief, apprehension, and, in the end acceptance. And more than a little of whatever you’d call that feeling when you feel like you’re just a little saiboat being flung about mercilessly by the waves in a furious ocean. Perhaps I should backtrack a bit.

I was at a crossroads in my life, as horribly cliché as it sounds.  It was a few weeks before I was set to start classes, having had made the decision to return to school just months prior.  Finally having had dragged myself out of the foggy swamp of depression and inactivity that consumed most of my 20’s, I felt as though life had started looking up.  I had my health, my youth (I was 28, but felt – and still do, I guess – much younger), I was going back to school – in short, I was feeling so alive for the first time in a long time, longer than I could remember.  At the same time, the enormity of dealing with the repercussions of the past, was daunting.  I was sure though, that in time all things fall into place, but you know, I wanted it now.  It was very hard to recognize the truth that just as something does not fall into disrepair in a day, it also doesn’t get fixed in a day.

But those things weren’t really on my mind that day.  Boyfriend and I set out on a mini road trip, about 150 mile drive, to visit some relatives.  A tiny voice in the back of my head nagged me No, don’t go, but I dissmissed it.  While it is a scary drive, especially at night, and during the cold of winter the road at times gets iced over, this was a day trip so I told myself “You’re being irrational, nothing’s going to happen.” (And now you can begin to see where the feelings of guilt and regret come in; if only I’d listened to my little voice.)

We didn’t leave home as early as planned though, and by the time we found ourselves done with the highway leg of the journey and on the narrow 2-lane road that comprises the rest of the way it was shortly before dusk.  It wasn’t raining though, so I doubted there would be any problems.

The lovely scenery on the mountain road, pre accident

The lovely scenery on the mountain road, pre accident

Once on the 2-lane road, I begun to accelerate to the speed limit.  What I could have never anticipated (and was on instant replay in my dreams for many months to come, sometimes with the outcome that followed, other times with other (worse) outcomes)  happened next.  A pickup truck sped to a stop sign at one of the final cross-streets before our 2-lane road begins its winding climb through the mountains.  The driver momentarily stopped, must have decided (erroneously) that he had enough time, and threw himself across my path.

“No! No,no,nonononono!” I cried, perhaps aloud, perhaps only in my head.  I slammed on the brakes as hard as I could, but the truck came closer and closer in the windshield, until it was all I could see.  A deafening sound followed, a flash of white enveloped everything (later I realized it was the airbag) and for a moment, disoriented, I thought I had most certainly died. Then, in the next moment, reason came flooding back and I pushed the now-deflated airbag out of my face, calling out to Boyfriend “Are you all right?!”

The side of the truck I plowed into

The side of the truck I plowed into

“Yes! Are you?” he asked. I responded affirmatively, then immediately began to panic that we needed to evacuate the vehicle immediately, what if it, I don’t know, explodes or something (clearly I saw too many action movies as a kid).  In my life I’d previously been involved in more than a handful of car accidents, mostly fender benders, but nothing like this. I was terrified! The driver’s side door had gotten bent back from the impact and didn’t want to open, which made my panic increase.  Somehow, I made my way out of the car, which in hindsight is even scarier; the car had come to a stop facing the opposite way but still right in the middle of the two-lane road.  There have been many times when I have felt so grateful that another speeding vehicle didn’t come along and smash right into the wreckage or us. Seriously, there is no way that I can express my gratitude for that simple detail.

Once out of the car – and safely on the side of the road, not in the middle of it – I felt numb with shock.  A witness informed me that they had notified the authorities, and they were on their way. Another witness commented having seen the whole thing, the impatient truck driver who’d ran his stop sign, the horrifying impact.  I looked at my car – what was left of my car: the entire front end was crushed in, the hood flipped open like the lid of a tin can.  The sight caused me to break down in tears. I know it’s stupid, that it’s just an object, but I loved that car.  It was a rare car, no longer in production, made rarer by the fact that we had found it at a used car lot for a fraction of the original price and only 13,000 miles on it.  It was irreplaceable and I felt so guilty for not having been able to take good care of it, to keep it out of harms way.  Yes it sounds irrational, but at times I’m not a very rational person…

My previously-beautiful car, crumpled up like a soda can - so heartbreaking to see it that way  :(

My previously-beautiful car, crumpled up like a soda can – so heartbreaking to see it that way 😦

Boyfriend and I sat on the side of the road waiting for the highway patrol, the tow trucks, and any of the other auxiliary personnel that arrive whenever a major car crash occurs.  Around this time is when the adrenaline began to slowly wear off. My body felt like it had been beaten repeatedly with a baseball bat.  My right ankle was not broken – I could put weight on it – but it throbbed harder by the minute.

The paramedics and two fire trucks arrived around the same time as the patrolman.  While I was prepared to give a statement about what happened, and to undergo a sobriety test as a formality, I balked at getting into an ambulance (I suppose this is the time for me to mention that I have myself a case of nosocomephobia and iatrophobia, among others…). With an assertiveness that I’d had no idea was in me I declined, repeatedly, finally having to sign paperwork releasing them from liability.  My only injuries that were recorded  in the police report were the visible ones: a busted lip and bruised face from the impact of the air bag.  I forced myself to walk with as little of a limp as possible until the ambulances left, terrified that they would take me away against my will.

After the scene was cleaned up, the tow truck driver agreed to give us a ride to a nearby gas station rest stop so we could wait for someone to pick us up.  As we waited, I hobbled over to the ladies room to try to inspect the damage. The right side of my torso, where by seatbelt had dug in, hurt terribly, and I worried that I had internal injuries. I stood up from the toilet, terrified that I would see blood pouring out of me, but nothing.  Hobbling out of the bathroom, still in a daze, I didn’t see Boyfriend. I immediately started crying, certain that I had died and now my ghost was haunting this gas station, my body still laying out in the middle of the road somewhere, or trapped in the wreckage. (I realize it sounds so overdramatic, but I remember this day like it was yesterday and this is what was going through my head) But no, Boyfriend had just had a seat while waiting for me to come out, understandable as he had messed up his leg pretty bad as well.  We limped to each other and collapsed on a bench to wait for our friend to pick us up. I remember feeling so grateful that the store employees didn’t demand us to buy something or get out, just letting us sit there in a haphazard heap like two intoxicated vagrants. Like I said, this day filled me with so many emotions, but gratitude is definitely high up there…

By the time we got home, about 2 hours later, my right ankle had swelled to three  times its normal size.  I don’t even know where I found the strength to make a simple dinner between bouts of collapsing on the couch.  I looked up how to treat a sprain, trying to convince myself that I would be better in no time.

Well, that’s how that day went.  The aftermath was not any easier.

That night the nightmares began, nightmares that would haunt my dreams for many months to come. During the day was no better – I’d temporarily zone out in my own world, but instead of my usual happy daydreams the accident would keep playing in my head.  Getting me to be a passenger in a car after this was a total disaster: any time the car would ungergo deceleration I would wince and cry out, attempting to hug my body to itself in a seatbelted attempt at a fetal position,  at times completely bursting into sobs. This continued for almost two years.

Driving was another challenge.  On the one hand, I insisted on being the driver due to my freaking out when someone else would drive, but at the same time I felt I had no right to insist on it as I was the one who had rammed us into the side  of a truck.  I felt so guilty – if only I’d been driving slower (even though I had been going the speed limit and it was my right of way) I was sure I could have prevented it.  I now drove slower, much slower, keeping pace with senior citizen, but when I’d find myself at a red light and a car approached from behind I would go into a panic again, certain thay they would rear-end me.  It was a traumatic existence, which I tried to cope with by developing an (unhealthy, increasing) obsession with control.  I was terrified of even crossing the street, even crossing through a parking lot, and with the exception of going to school (and let me tell you, going to school on crutches is no joke. Hell, doing anything  on crutches is a Challenge. While my (physical) injuries were temporarily, I did gain an insight on what it feels to  have one’s mobility limited.) I stayed home, not really wanting to interact with the scary world where anything could happen at any time.

I was on the crutches for about a month, but my right ankle pain persisted for several months. It was close to summertime the first time I remember walking and not feeling that pain on the top of my foot.  During my healing process, several people (acquaintances and Boyfriend’s (ex) coworkers) told me that “My foot would never feel the same again. It’s never the same after an injury.” What a horrible thing to tell someone! I was so upset, managing to hold it together while in front of them only to spend many hours sobbing at home.  They said it so often that I was worried I would begin to believe them.  I began to wonder if they wanted me to believe them, if they wanted me to never fully recover.  One of Boyfriend’s coworkers, a lady I’ll refer to as A, was especially vocal about this.  As I’d know that she’d been very envious of Boyfriend and I’s weight loss about 6 months before this, I became (irrationally) convinced that she was glad the accident had happened, or worse, that she had wished it upon us.  (Apparently during times of high stress I revert to an extreme paranoiac state, who would’ve known?) I had already felt guilty about the big deal people had made about our weight loss, but this was just the breaking point.  I felt like I must have really done something wrong if some one would be so happy when things are going wrong for me. This made more guarded in my relationships with others, afraid of letting anyone get too close.

Once my foot was healed up enough to go on walks things lot a little better, though I insisted only on walking in trails where there’d be no vehicular traffic.  My fear of getting hit by a car lasted much longer than the pain in my foot. Eventually, though, sometime around the two-year mark I got over my that fear, slowly.  I’m still an extremely anxious car passenger, but I’m able to hold it together, more or less.

My foot healed up, and, a year later, I started ballet, as part of my “get out there and start living” therapy.  And now, it makes sense why I was so weak when I first started: while I had resumed walking and done some yoga with my friend, I’m sure I lost much muscle mass during those months of inactivity while recovering.  Not only that, I hadn’t wanted to regain any of my weight lost, so I had keep a very strict diet while I was inactive. That probably resulted in my body consuming some of its own muscles for energy. Oops.

Oh, and A (Boyfriend’s ex coworker) saw me about a year and a half later, happily prancing around with my post-starting-ballet agility, and she was Not Happy at all.  I have found it in my heart to forgive her, for all her bad wishes, but it was so tough.  More than being upset for her wishing bad things upon me, I was upset for her making me doubt myself, making me think that I’d done something wrong just because I set out to improve upon my condition. Making me feel guilty that I had accomplished something she hadn’t or couldn’t (lose weight).  The baggage of guilt has been the hardest thing to deal with for the last going-on 4 years.

Well, now my heart feels much lighter. Thanks to any who read through this novel of a post. 🙂

Fun Monday Class, But The Cold Hurts!

Another fun class day! Teacher reminded us that after this there are only 3 more classes for the semester (this wednesday and next monday and wednesday) and then our final. So sad 😦 !

Once again, the cold was causing me to feel stiff, especially my bad ankle (not the left one that I sprained last July (which is doing great, like new); the right one that I hurt in a car accident 3 years ago).  As soon as I was warmed up it felt fine, and continued to feel fine throughout class – so much that I didn’t even remember that I have issues with it.  Due to the cold (excuses, excuses, LOL) I left my little warm up sweater on the whole class, and I felt so much more comfortable with my body – and by body I mean chest.  If I’d known all along this was what it takes I would have just gotten a warm up sweater the day I got my very first leotard!

At barre, after doing our rond de jambe and fondue combination, the second time around we were to fondue into releve. So instead of just fonduing and straightening our legs (the working leg en l’air), we also releve’d on our supporting leg. Now, I’ve been working on my passe releve from coupe at home, so I thought ‘Oh, I’ve got this’ but it was not as easy as it looked (well, duh, it’s ballet ); apparently the added challenge of straightening my leg away from my body made it so much harder to go up in releve. At least the first time through, by the second time it was a bit better.  Was not able to balance in the releve arabesque (arms in third arabesque) and definitely not in whatever it would be called when you’re in releve with the other leg stretched out in front of you (arms also in third arabesque).

I’m not feeling discouraged, oddly enough; I know I’m a slowish learner and it took me months and months to build up the strength to even passe releve – and that was facing the “barre” (at home, the barre is a countertop or the wall).  Today we did our releve arabesques with one hand on the barre, so it’s expected that it’d be harder.  It felt really fun, though, the beautiful coordinated folding and unfolding movements that look – when done correctly – so balletish (balletic?).

Teacher said that my cambres back are looking “Much better!”. I’ve been really focusing on not scrunching my neck but feeling like I’m pulling my head both up and out as my back bends. It is somewhat challenging, and the first time it felt so foreign. I’m one of those people who tends to look down or hold their head down somewhat – though not in ballet class, more like the rest of the time outside of class – so perhaps the muscles in my neck had not been getting an all-day workout before.  Even though in ballet class I try to hold my head up high, as soon as I leave the studio I continue to catch myself looking down.

In center, after we worked on our usual balancé combination – which I can do well at a slower tempo, quickly not so well – Teacher introduced a new jump.  The first time I head her say it, I thought she said Supersoak and I was thinking ‘Like the early 90’s water gun with a refillable tank you strap on your back?’. But no, it was actually soubresaut, which is a jump from fifth in which the feet don’t change but come together in the air (like a sous-sus mid-air).

The combination was 2 echappes with changement, saut de chat, soubresout, saut de chat, changement, other side.  The good news is I finished with the correct foot in front. The bad news is my soubresauts and changements look terrible: flexed feet in the air (or at least not as pointed as I can), not crossing over on changements.  It was fun though, and I really enjoyed the saut de chats – which actually looked somewhat decent. Also,  I was not panting or out of breath at all; in fact, I was ready for another round. Yay, newfound stamina!

My sautes continue to improve.  Today after the first run through of sautes, Teacher said we were going to do them again to a slower timing, which made some of the more experienced students groan (the rest of us are too new to know a difference).  Apparently done slower they are more of a thight workout, and it may be true because by the end my thighs burned – but in a good way!

Today Teacher broke down pique turns for those of us that had never officially been taught how to do them.  She said to take our leg and sort of rond de jambe it out then passe releve onto it and turn.  I went with the newer students and we went nice and slow, rather than connecting the turns into a series (like chaînes).  Spotting with pique turns is still tricky for me, but I’m working on it.

Pique turns are way easier than pirouettes, in my experience. It could just be that I like the across the floor part of center…

Long Weekend Updates

After waking up from a lovely ballet dream in which I literally flew, I realized that I haven’t updated this blog in an unprecendented-for-me long time. The dream was awesome, by the way. I was like twirling, twirling, twirling, and then I was like twiling while up high in the air or something. Perhaps I was part of a pas-de-deux and that was the part where my partner lifted me in the air and spun me around or something. It was so exhilirating though, if only I could feel that in “real” life! But I guess that’s why I dance, so I can get close to it.

We had houseguests over the long weekend, so that threw off my schedule a bit. I’m not too crazy about long holiday weekends. I would prefer if everyone had a shorter work week so that every weekend would be a long weekend. That would be great! Unfortunately, I’m not in charge of those kinds of things, so the 5 day work week remains the norm for now.

One of our guests brought over an adorable puppy. Unfortunately, said puppy was also very hyperactive, incontinent, and clumsy. I spent a good part of the weekend making sure the puppy wasn’t chewing through my shoes or books (he loved destroying paper), leaving puddles everywhere on my wooden floor, and otherwise disturbing the peace. He did manage to knock over and break one of my practice mirrors, which really sucked! Luckily,Boyfriend managed to glue it back together and it’s semi-functional – and we avoided the seven years of bad luck. On a side note, I never fully appreciated, or even realized, how well-behaved our own dogs are!

It was somewhat difficult finding time or space to practice ballet with guests over. I realize it may sound bad (antisocial, Boyfriend would say), but I’m really glad to have the place back to ourselves so I can get back to my regular routine. Last night I got to have my first home ballet practice since last tuesday (though I did have class on wednesday) and I was so happy, though I did feel a little off balance. When you’re trying to climb the learning curve it’s so easy to just slide back down!

I have class tomorrow – might even try again for two classes – so I need to get this balancing situation stabilized (did I just make an accidental pun?).

It has now been six weeks since I sprained my left ankle and I can finally say that I am back to my pre-fall fitness level. I’m routinely walking my regular morning route and the ankle had not given me any trouble. The weirdest thing happened though: my right ankle, which I injured in a car accident a few years ago (but have not reinjured) began feeling a little funny. Thing is, after it had stopped hurting months after the accident it had been pain free for almost two years. I found it coincidental that after I hurt the left foot the right foot would start to act up. I’m going to go with it’s something psychological, like a phantom limb pain. It’s not even really like full-blown pain, just like a feeling of my attention being focused on that part of the body (whereas usually I don’t focus on a part of my body unless it’s hurting).

Also, WordPress at random keeps erasing blogs from my list of blogs I follow. It’s really annoying and I wish I knew how to fix that glitch. Anyone else experience this or know how to fix it?

The Long-Awaited Return to Class

Since my morning walks have been nice and pain free – and it finally stopped hurting when I point my foot all the way – I went to class today! It was so much fun!

This is the class that I’ve only been to once before 3 weeks ago. I had been hoping that I would be able to go in today, but at the same time I was not trying to get my hopes up prematurely. If I would have had to wait until next week I would have been okay with that as well. But my ankle has been feeling better every day and I have been keeping up my strenght with  floor barre at home, so I figured it was okay to go to class today.

I really like this class because it is just so laid back compared to the usual class I take at the community college. Last time (the only time) that I took this class there was a lady who sat out on the jumps due to an injury, so I knew that it would be ok with the teacher if I sat out on jumps today. The community college ballet class is a bit more fast paced and the teachers expect us to perform at 100 percent – well at 100 percent for us – every time. I know that at my current recovery level I would not have been ready for that class. Good thing there are still a few weeks until the start of the semester!

Once again there were five of us students. With the exception of the only male student, all the students from this week were different than the students from a few weeks ago. That made it waaayyyy less intimidating than it could’ve been, because I feel so weird walking into something where everyone knows each other. Ahhh, the unfortunate flare-ups of my anxiety.

We started out with plies and grand plies facing the barre. I had done a few plies here at home the last couple days, so I was used to the feeling, but I had not done a grand plie since before I fell so I was a teeny bit worried. But it went fine, no pain, not even the slight feeling of a stretch. So far so good!

We then did tendues. Luckily, since the level of a couple of my new classmates today was basic beginner we went nice and slow. We did super slow tendues, focusing on articulation of the different parts of the feet. I was pleased that I had not lost any strength on my good foot and my injured side was doing ok. Not the best pointing that I’ve been capable of pre-injury but not bad.

I got a correction on my arms. Arms do not come easy to me! I think this might be because when I was first starting out I put all my focus on the legs and feet. Or it could be that my upper body strength is not up to par. Regardless, arms are something I really need to work on.

We then did a barre combination with developpes and ronde de jambes as well as kinda complicated pas de bras. It may have been the same combination we did the first day I tried out that class, because my body seemed to be getting it a lot faster today. We also did frappes, which are ok for me; they’re not my favorite move but I don’t struggle with them like I did back when I first started.

I was pleased that I was able to hold balances ok, even on releve. First we balanced in passe but flat and then we balanced in releve with arms up in high fifth. I did not attempt to balance on one leg today. I just didn’t think I was up to it yet.

All those days without stretching also seemed to have had a small effect on my flexibility. When we did grand battements I was still doing pretty good devant, and even better a la seconde, but my grand battement derriere sucked! Prior to my little two week break I could have sworn I was able to kick my leg up higher.

I sat out the jumps, but I did participate a little bit in center. I mostly wanted to reassure myself that I hadn’t lost my ability to do anything without holding on to the barre. It was a similar center combination to the one from a few weeks ago, involving tendu a la seconde, back to fifth, and passe releve, pirouette optional. I actually did a pirouette! That was kind of crazy!

Overall, a great class day!

Walking Along the Road to Recovery

I’ve been taking it really easy on my body during this whole healing process, and every day I’ve been noticing improvement. So, this morning I thought “It’s been practically two weeks (minus some 22 hours) since I sprained my ankle. And it doesn’t hurt anymore at all. Time to get off the couch and explore a little!” Patience has never been one of my strong points,though I’m working on it – ballet helps in that department – and I just couldn’t wait until it has officially been two weeks.
I went for a walk today. It wasn’t a very long walk, nor did I stray too far from home. In fact, I literally just walked up and down the street next to our apartment complex. But you know what? It was awesome!

Prior to my fall I had been walking several miles everyday, mostly on uphills (and consequently back down on the downhills). I had been mostly doing uphills because I’d heard, from my running-loving friends, that walking for exercise is pointless unless it’s done on an incline. Since we lucked out and our apartment complex is located in the foothills of a mountain, I have uphill walking available almost right at my doorstep.
But since I was planning on something not too strenous, I decided to settle for just walking up and down the same relatively flat street, with the added bonus of being able to return home quickly if my ankle started to act up. It rained all day yesterday, so the humidity level was up but I wasn’t minding it at all. After being couched for the past two weeks it was nice to just get out of the house for a while get some fresh air, watch the little insects fly around from flower to flower, and just observe the wildlife up close. I think I was just super grateful to get the oportunity to go explore again!
As for walking on uphills versus flat ground, I have to say that I disagree with my friends. Walking on flat ground is a form of exercise as well. How do I figure? Because every moment that you are walking you are supporting your own weight and keeping yourself upright, things that you would not be doing if you were on the couch. When I go for walks I always check to make sure that my posture is correct and that I am engaging my core. I noticed (during this time of recovery and rest) that the more time passed by that I didn’t get to walk the harder it seemed to maintain correct posture while standing. It’s almost as though my muscles were deteriorating due to not being used to support my body’s own weight. Due to that alone I think it’s better to walk, even if it’s on flat ground, than to not exercise at all. Every little bit helps!
There’s also the added benefits, of course. Walking relaxes me and helps me get my thoughts in order. I tend to get extremely hyper and have trouble just sitting still while thinking, so going for walks is one of the ways that I handle this. My hyperness is at an all-time high in the morning so going for a long walk first thing in the morning is a good way to keep from irritating anyone around me with my early morning chatter. It also brings out my creativity – I have come up with lots of great ideas for a short story or essay while in the middle of a walk. Next I just have to take my own advice and remember to bring a notepad along.
My body appears to have handled that walk well – no pain, no swelling, no limp – so hopefully I will be back to ballet (minus the jumping) in no time!

It Almost Felt Like Old Times

Day 10 post-fall. I have been tempted to update for a few days now, but ultimately felt like “what’s the point? I hardly have any changes to report.” But I figure it can’t hurt – and may possibly help – to have a record of my progress, should this kind of thing happen to me again.

The past two days, in the morning, I have felt almost normal. By that I mean that I could walk without a limp. During the whole first week, which I mostly spent on the couch, everytime I would attempt to walk I had a noticeable limp, which would become more noticeable the faster I tried to walk. So I took the hint and stayed off my feet.

But yesterday morning, from the first moment my feet hit the floor and I made my way to the bathroom, I noticed that I actually wasn’t limping. Not only that, that weak feeling that I’d had in my ankle – sort of like it wasn’t stable from side to side – was gone. For some reason my injuries always feel worse in the morning – it was like this after my car accident as well – so the fact that my ankle was feeling better in the morning was a good sign.

I know better than to get overconfident though. I remember back when I was recovering from my car accident reading that a previously injured ankle is likely to be reinjured because the person thinks they are back to 100% and doesn’t take it easy. So it’ll probably be a while before I attempt any jumping, especially the kind that only land on one foot.

I wrote last Saturday that  i miss ballet. I still do, but now add to that that I miss doing anything that involves being on my feet. I miss going on long walks and going on hikes. I miss walking (as opposed to driving) to the store. I miss going to the dog park and playing with the dogs. I don’t miss driving though – apparently that’s the only routine thing that I’m still able to do.

Overall, my recovery is going well. I’ve started doing floor barre exercises. I’d never tried floor barre before – I’d seen the videos but I’d always thought that the real thing looked more like fun. Well, let me tell you – floor barre is hard! The floor goes “ouch!” against my hipbones, even with a makeshift yoga mat consisting of two folded up old bath towels. At the same time, it was great! I love the feeling of using my muscles and making them work hard. Before my fall, when I was doing ballet almost daily, nearly every day my thighs would have this nice soreness – almost like a fullness, an increase in vascularity – and I grew to love that soreness. After my first time trying floor barre, the soreness was there, and it almost felt like old times again. For the first time in over a week I felt relaxed.
I’m planning on continuing with floor barre exercises, as well as very gradually increase the distances that I walk. For now all my walking will be on level ground, so no hiking for a while, which is disappointing. But at least I have my mobility back somewhat and that makes me feel a little bit better.