J, determined baker that he is, has been experimenting with the gluten-free scones he made for me last week, trying to get the texture less crumbly, and has brought me the results of his latest tinkering. They are delicious, and far less crumbly.
The first route I try is a 5.11 that the guys have been working on perfecting for the past few weeks. Okay, to be completely honest what they are working on is being able to do the 5.11 back-to-back with the 5.10 right next to it. They haven't quite gotten it yet (they're both really close) but I've decided it's well past the time that I ought to be working on the 5.11, myself. So I give it a whirl.
It's not as hard as I'd worked myself up to think it would be- sure, I have to have a take about 3/4 of the way up, but it's a controlled take. Next time, I think, I might not even need that break.
The second route I do is another 5.11 that I've been working on for the past several weeks. I can do it, and I can do it without any takes, but I've yet to do it cleanly, and clean is what we aim for.
I get a rough start because I am too distracted by the boys' beard banter, getting myself so off track that I just have J lower me back down so I can start fresh.
And this time, it's clean.
Filled with the giddiness of two incredibly satisfying climbs, I follow the boys to the back corner of the gym, where the top-rope wall meets the bouldering wall. J is going to do an overhang, but as he's tying in KB is trying his hand at a dyno (essentially a move that requires a leap from one hold to the next- all four points of contact come off the wall for a split second) that's been eluding him.
The route it way beyond my level, but I figure hey- I want to try that! And so I do. But I'm not even coming close- I'm too scared to let go and really go for it, and so I end up launching myself backwards instead of sideways. Over and over again.
The guys are really encouraging about it, and suggest that I try one on an easier route.
"This one is a really great handhold- I know you can do it!"
Yeah, I can do this, I think, and give it a try. I come close enough that I realize that if I just really go for it, I will get it. So I crouch down, take a few deep breaths combined with momentum-building swings, and I go for it.
My fingers slap the edges of the hold and I'm elated- I made it! But I don't quite catch it, and instead I'm falling, just as I've done every time before. Except this time, when I hit the ground, everything is wrong.
POP.
"FUCK!" I scream. "FUCK FUCK FUCK!" The pain is so bad that I'm trying to crawl away from my own body, even as one part of my cold brain is telling me to look at it- look at it! and another part is noting that the amount of times I've screamed "fuck" (because I'm still screaming it) has probably alerted Hanz and Caroline that I'm not just having a missed-hold temper tantrum.
I force myself to look at my ankle, and it's wrong. The angle is wrong.
"FUCK!" but now it's pain and rage, because I'm afraid it's broken, and I don't have time for a fucking broken ankle.
And then I pop it back into alignment, with another audible pop, and it's sickening to see and then I'm trying to crawl away from my body again but KB has me now and is making me roll over and elevate and I'm cooperating because even tho' animal brain wants to go away cold brain knows he is right. And then J is on my other side and I'm shaking with the pain and clawing at KB's calf but cold brain has taken over my mouth and is telling J to get me an anti-inflammatory and asking KB to help me get my shoe off before it swells and it hurts oh gods it hurts and Caroline is getting me an ice pack and asking if she should call anyone,
"Nathan,"
And J is back with the drugs and I'm arguing that ibuprofen isn't an anti-inflammatory but KB says "Yes it is," (it is) so I take it and I'm trying to wiggle my toes and asking KB to feel their temperature and they're fine so it's not broken but gods it hurts and then Hanz is calmly and expertly wrapping my ankle and I've gotten myself enough under control that I can joke now,
"This is not going to help my fear of falling," I say to KB and he kind of laughs and says, "No, probably not."
Cold brain has essentially shoved animal brain down in a corner, so even tho' I'm still shaking, I'm able to banter as Caroline brings me a tub to elevate my leg and sand bags to lean back against.
"You guys just weren't paying enough attention to me!" I joke, and there is relieved laughter all around. And my guys are staying right next to me and it's possible I have my nails dug into both of them but they don't say anything about it, because they are my dudes.
After what seems like a short eternity Nathan is there, and he and KB are carrying me out to the car (and I am suddenly acutely aware of the difference in their heights and trying not to laugh about it because that's not appropriate, right?) and KB gets my bike key and says he'll bring it by later tonight, along with some crutches his girlfriend has.
I am being stubborn and I don't want to go to the doctor because they will just tell me to wrap and elevate it, but Nathan wants me to and as we drive two blocks the pain and nausea are bad enough that I meekly agree, and so off to urgent care we go.
He carries me across the parking lot and into the building, and it is one of the more romantic moments of our relationship, nausea and everything.
They take one look at my ankle and essentially say, "Yeah, we're gonna' need to x-ray that," and by now the pain killer has kicked in so I'm feeling okay so long as I don't move, and I make a crack about the goose-egg on my ankle and the radiographer says "duck egg" so surely that's not as bad?
Well it is bad. Not broken bad, but about as bad as a sprain can be, so I am sent home with a fancy brace, instructions to be non-weight-bearing for a day or two, and prescriptions for crutches, big-pill ibuprofen, and Vicodin. I did not want the Vicodin, but after two attempts at saying "That's okay," to the skeptical NP, I gave up and accepted, because maybe the pain will be bad enough to warrant it when bedtime comes around.
I am not looking forward to going to the pharmacy, but when I call them they say that Nathan can pick my stuff up for me- oh happy day! And so I get to lay on the couch with my iced-ankle propped up above my chest, and think about that the things that can happen when one just goes for it.
Sure, you can jack your ankle up- but you can also discover exactly how good your friends are, how sweet your husband can be, and how kindly strangers can treat you.
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