A Statement for Practicality
LeAnn posted this blog on Wednesday, August 4th, 2010 at 12:16 am
I was going to say that it all started when we were baling our hayfield a few weeks ago, but it actually started longer ago than that. Then I was going to say that it started last fall. But it’s actually been longer ago than last fall. It really all started when I was a kid and would twist my ankle from time to time stepping in holes around the farm.
But, this latest episode actually started last fall when I was carrying groceries into the house and stepped just right on an uneven spot. I nearly went down on my knees, and as the ankle twisted, I heard — and felt — a distinct POP.
The ankle was acutely sore for several weeks and was black and blue to boot. It was my left ankle, and the thing continued to be touchy and tender for about six months after that.
I finally thought it had healed up completely — mostly because I did not even ever think about it anymore. Until we were baling hay.
We were unloading a load in the barn. Randy was stacking and I was carrying the hay inside. At one point, I stepped off the wagon tongue to the ground. And you guessed. It twisted my left ankle. I went right down flat on the ground that time.
The thing was acutely sore for a couple of days, and was a little touchy for a few weeks after that, but since then it has been feeling pretty good. Or it was feeling good. Well, actually, now it’s not the left ankle. It’s the right ankle.
Randy and I were moving the chicken run Saturday afternoon so the chickens could have some fresh grass. We were all finished when I put my foot square in a Laverne-Shirley-Bluebell-Betty-White-and-Gingersnap hole that I had forgotten was there. The chickens love to dig holes and then immerse themselves in the dirt so they can take dust baths. Sometimes when you see them, you would swear they were dead in their hole because they are lying in such an odd position. But no. They are just wallowing in the dirt, trying to get as much of it on their feathers as they can.
I was so afraid I was going to hurt my left ankle again when I stepped in the hole, that I threw myself the other way to take the weight on my right ankle, thereby saving the left.
It seemed that I had succeeded, too. My left ankle did not feel bad at all when I straightened up again. It was only later, after I had put Isabelle in her little training pen, let Kajun out in the bigger pasture, cut some grass and brushed Isabelle and hopped on her for a brief lesson and carried water and put the horses back in their pastures and fed the horses and raked up some grass and then, finally, sat down to eat a sandwich, that I noticed anything amiss with my right ankle.
As soon as I took the weight off it when I sat down, it started in throbbing and aching. I couldn’t turn it any direction without pain. I think it’s just soft tissue damage. At least I hope it is. But wouldn’t you just know it, though?
See? THAT is why I like to wear workboots. I haven’t been wearing workboots outside this summer. I have been wearing a pair of tennis shoes I got on sale that I thought was a pretty good deal at the time. When I twisted my ankle last fall, I was wearing low-cut shoes, too, and not workboots that give support to my ankles.
My ankles have always had a tendency to twist, but as long as I wear workboots when I’m out and about, they stay stable. Workboots might not be the most fashionable, although I suppose it’s all in how you look at it. Working for a newspaper in a rural area means that you must always be prepared to go to a farm or a gravel pit or to cover a 4-H fair. Workboots are perfect for any of those things.
Then again, what do I care whether I make a fashion statement? I am making my own statement. A statement for practicality. Maybe that’s why I have never cared very much for wearing heels. I just do not think they would be very practical around the yard or the horse pasture or the garden. . .
LeAnn R. Ralph
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