The hill was quite majestic in it's fluffy whiteness and there was only one other small group at the hill, so we didn't have to practice our sharing skills. As we reached the summit of the mountain and looked back to observe all our domain, we saw some rascally somebodies had made
After much frolicking and enjoyment and maybe some out-of-shape panting, I took a smallish break. Because I wanted to savor the wintery-ness of it all. My friend B took a solo run, then when she returned, I decided on a solo run of my own. Right over the mountainous death ramp. But that part was an accident. I see myself about to go over this stupid bump and all I can think of is how painful landing is going to be, so I stick my feet out to try and change my trajectory. Oh, it changed my trajectory all right. As I slid over the ramp my feet got caught under me, my sled flew from me (cowardly sled), and I hit the ground like a ton of bricks.
With the breath compressed out of my lungs I could not respond to the shouts of concern. If I could have though, I would have responded in a negatory fashion. Once my breath returned all I could feel was the excruciating agony of my left ankle. Let me just preface this by saying I have never broken a bone or sprained a limb before, so this was all new pain experience for me. When B rushed to my side I was all like "I think my ankle is broken, oh, it's broken" where she was like, "should I call an ambulance?" This is where I reevaluated my pain. Is this ambulance worthy pain? "Well, okay, maybe it's not broken" as I writhed on the ground, "but it sure really hurts."
Two gentlemen with their children came down to help assess the situation. The majority of the intense, excruciating, mind-numbing, crushing pain had abated and I was able to perform an assessment on myself. I was really disappointed there wasn't blood or a giant swollen foot to show for the intense, excruciating, mind-numbing, crushing pain I was feeling, because then someone might be led to believe I had zero pain tolerance.
Well, they helped me stand up after checking out my ankle and comparing it to my other foot and seeing no discernible difference. I really could not put any weight on the afflicted foot however, so I hopped off the field in true football style.
Once home, assisted by my lovely friend B who was by my side for every moment of this agonizing tragedy, I commenced the tried and true RICE method of dealing with a sprain. It has been four days since the incident and I finally have some black and blueness to show for my intense, excruciating, mind-numbing, crushing ordeal. I concede this round to winter. But I'll be back, and when I am, well, winter might want to run to spring for some help.