sweet cankle

I played in a volleyball tournament Saturday. Well, no. Actually, I played about 9 points of a volleyball tournament before landing on someone else's ankle when I jumped up for a block. I am pretty sure I heard a "pop," but that's what everyone says, so I don't think that really means anything anymore.

First thoughts after landing on the floor came in this order:
1) I think I heard a pop. Probably no big deal.
2) I don't want to hop down the isle. (Only 55 days...)
3) If I do hope down the isle, I will be sure to get a pretty light blue cast. (That will take care of the "something blue" that has been thus far unaccounted for.)
4) Don't cry. (I didn't, thank you very much.)

After crawling from the floor and icing during the rest of that match, some magical athletic trainer taped my ankle and I "played" the rest of the tournament by hopping on one foot. I felt very lazy for not being able to get to the balls I would have easily been able to play.

I must say, the cankle is pretty sweet. (I'm a little bit proud of it.)

Also, Fiance has banned me from volleyball until after July 5.