And I was wondering if other forum members had such an injury and how long was it before they started training properly again and if they did something to speed up recovery. Right now I'm on crutches tho... but can't wait to be training again
I had an a grade 2 sprained ankle...
- Thread starter biggino
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i had a horrific grade 2 sprain from high school basketball when i was younger. thankfully i was young and recovered decently but out of nowhere i feel weak/instability sometimes. It seems to react fine but that feeling sucks.
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dude, I had the same thing, but I sprained my sprained ankle, 14 days of therapy did jack shit (well it allowed me to walk again) 2 accupunture sessions and pain was 90% gone, therapy is a must though to get strenght back on the ankle.
Try it man, you have zero to lose, and 100% sure you will never regret it (but do it with someone who knows what hes doing)
Try it man, you have zero to lose, and 100% sure you will never regret it (but do it with someone who knows what hes doing)
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do not take advice from this person ^
STORY TIME!!!!
i grade 3'd my left ankle playing basketball in a driveway when i was 16. the ground froze a lot that year and it was the end of march, we didn't really pay attention to how the slab on the right side of the hoop was 2 inches higher than the left. i rolled it so hard i felt my fibia hit the ground.
didn't take the first wrap off for three days of ice and percocet-fueled bliss. when we took the wrap off it looked like someone had traced the tendons along the outside and underneath my foot with a dark purple marker. wheelchair for a week, crutches for a week, then a boot for a month. end of track season.
taped it and wore a brace any time i ran track or played armorball until i graduated high school. grade 2ed it again fall of my sophomore year of college during a drunken footrace, which was sweet because a handicap pass is like a campus parking golden ticket.
that winter i decided since sam's club was selling absolut mandarin AND cases of red bull can that my buddy and i should get a bottle to ourselves and split the cans 12 each. to pre game. so of course when i leave my dorm i decide it's time to parkour down every flight of stairs. this is proto-ninja-RJ so in lieu of ukemi i'm landing flat-footed. the last landing had some water over the tile i didn't see and ended up slipping a little bit as i landed, which made my ankle feel 'weird', so i decide to medicate on the way to the house party rather than at the house party. i get a booty call from another party at a loft build a mile back the direction i came from not but 15 minutes after i arrive and the resulting testosterone dump pushes my homeostasis up into bath salts territory and i decide to FUCKING JOG THERE.
the elevator is broken so i walk up five goddamn flights of stairs. as i'm entering the hallway i take a step and just faceplant. i figure i'm just that drunk, push myself back up, whomp. so i manage to make it to the door of the party but decide to stay in the hall and get my life together. booty call emerges 5 minutes later, which was when i started getting the willies, which was probably shock. so i vomit.
i tell booty call about my walking dilemma and she decides to investigate, but since she wasn't a former future medical professional like yours truly needed to compare it to my right ankle. she looks back at my left ankle an asks me if it's always been that size. at this point i had double vision so i honestly didn't know. my buddies end up carrying me back to the dorms where i finish puking loudly enough to where the campus police pay a courtesy visit. i'd already passed out by the time they got there. they breathalyze me and i end up blowing a .03, twice, which confuses the shit out of them. then someone mentions my ankle, which had turned purple. the cops end up making an icepack for me and tell us to stay safe.
so i wake up the next morning and my friends ruin my clutch trying to drive me to the ER. they end up carrying me in, and as it's sunday morning i'm whisked right into x-ray. the doc comes back in and the conversation is something along the lines of:
MD: So you did this...last night?
RJ: Yeah, I think around 10 or so.
MD: It's noon?
RJ: Well we didn't get home til 3
MD: What?
RJ: Yeah.
MD: What were you doing?
RJ: (tells above story)
MD: You didn't fall down because you were drunk, you fell down because it dislocated. It's still dislocated.
RJ: Well that explains it!
Now, it felt crunchy when I walked, but it always felt crunchy. I was pretty sure I'd just re-sprained it. It had that characteristic fat bulge in the same damn spot and everything!
So yeah, they shoot some muscle relaxer and xylocaine right into the bump and he pulls that fuckin thing back into position. It even did that divot thing in the joint kinda like how your knuckles look when you pop your finger by pulling them straight out. And some demerol. Sweet, sweet demerol.
We end up going to Taco John's where I manage to eat an entire 6 pack and pound by myself and start hallucinating that the multicolored wall panels could somehow swap color swatches between themselves. I end up falling asleep on the ten minute car ride back up to my buddy's dorm room and pass out in his chair around 2. Woke up at 11 and hollered at my booty call, who gave me a ride back to the apartment and another one upon arrival.
And I wonder why I didn't graduate. But hey, at least i had a walking cast laying around!
I'd been lifeguarding summers and really got into swimming and slackline that particular summer. Did PT twice a week as well. It felt good enough in the fall that I started training in earnest for a triathlon in the spring, but then I discovered the Judo club and gave up running for osotogari and armbars.
Between slackline, kickboard workouts, and doing my throws off of my left leg, my ankle is fine. Haven't taped it in 10 years. It happened that a lot of my interests ended up being balancey sports (judo, snowboarding, climbing, slacklining) that compliment one another quite nicely.
My left foot rests quite a bit lower than my right if i let my legs hang off the edge of the bed, and my tendon sheath on the outsdie pops over my fibia if i pull my toe back towards my shin, but it's otherwise fine and dandy. I actually prefer to use my left leg as my balance leg for all my trips and leg-swingy throws.
tldnr - sprained and dislocated the bejesus out of my left ankle three times in 3 years. did lots of balance training and physical therapy. anecdotally recommend kick-heavy swim workouts, slackline, and grass/mulch trail running.
STORY TIME!!!!
i grade 3'd my left ankle playing basketball in a driveway when i was 16. the ground froze a lot that year and it was the end of march, we didn't really pay attention to how the slab on the right side of the hoop was 2 inches higher than the left. i rolled it so hard i felt my fibia hit the ground.
didn't take the first wrap off for three days of ice and percocet-fueled bliss. when we took the wrap off it looked like someone had traced the tendons along the outside and underneath my foot with a dark purple marker. wheelchair for a week, crutches for a week, then a boot for a month. end of track season.
taped it and wore a brace any time i ran track or played armorball until i graduated high school. grade 2ed it again fall of my sophomore year of college during a drunken footrace, which was sweet because a handicap pass is like a campus parking golden ticket.
that winter i decided since sam's club was selling absolut mandarin AND cases of red bull can that my buddy and i should get a bottle to ourselves and split the cans 12 each. to pre game. so of course when i leave my dorm i decide it's time to parkour down every flight of stairs. this is proto-ninja-RJ so in lieu of ukemi i'm landing flat-footed. the last landing had some water over the tile i didn't see and ended up slipping a little bit as i landed, which made my ankle feel 'weird', so i decide to medicate on the way to the house party rather than at the house party. i get a booty call from another party at a loft build a mile back the direction i came from not but 15 minutes after i arrive and the resulting testosterone dump pushes my homeostasis up into bath salts territory and i decide to FUCKING JOG THERE.
the elevator is broken so i walk up five goddamn flights of stairs. as i'm entering the hallway i take a step and just faceplant. i figure i'm just that drunk, push myself back up, whomp. so i manage to make it to the door of the party but decide to stay in the hall and get my life together. booty call emerges 5 minutes later, which was when i started getting the willies, which was probably shock. so i vomit.
i tell booty call about my walking dilemma and she decides to investigate, but since she wasn't a former future medical professional like yours truly needed to compare it to my right ankle. she looks back at my left ankle an asks me if it's always been that size. at this point i had double vision so i honestly didn't know. my buddies end up carrying me back to the dorms where i finish puking loudly enough to where the campus police pay a courtesy visit. i'd already passed out by the time they got there. they breathalyze me and i end up blowing a .03, twice, which confuses the shit out of them. then someone mentions my ankle, which had turned purple. the cops end up making an icepack for me and tell us to stay safe.
so i wake up the next morning and my friends ruin my clutch trying to drive me to the ER. they end up carrying me in, and as it's sunday morning i'm whisked right into x-ray. the doc comes back in and the conversation is something along the lines of:
MD: So you did this...last night?
RJ: Yeah, I think around 10 or so.
MD: It's noon?
RJ: Well we didn't get home til 3
MD: What?
RJ: Yeah.
MD: What were you doing?
RJ: (tells above story)
MD: You didn't fall down because you were drunk, you fell down because it dislocated. It's still dislocated.
RJ: Well that explains it!
Now, it felt crunchy when I walked, but it always felt crunchy. I was pretty sure I'd just re-sprained it. It had that characteristic fat bulge in the same damn spot and everything!
So yeah, they shoot some muscle relaxer and xylocaine right into the bump and he pulls that fuckin thing back into position. It even did that divot thing in the joint kinda like how your knuckles look when you pop your finger by pulling them straight out. And some demerol. Sweet, sweet demerol.
We end up going to Taco John's where I manage to eat an entire 6 pack and pound by myself and start hallucinating that the multicolored wall panels could somehow swap color swatches between themselves. I end up falling asleep on the ten minute car ride back up to my buddy's dorm room and pass out in his chair around 2. Woke up at 11 and hollered at my booty call, who gave me a ride back to the apartment and another one upon arrival.
And I wonder why I didn't graduate. But hey, at least i had a walking cast laying around!
I'd been lifeguarding summers and really got into swimming and slackline that particular summer. Did PT twice a week as well. It felt good enough in the fall that I started training in earnest for a triathlon in the spring, but then I discovered the Judo club and gave up running for osotogari and armbars.
Between slackline, kickboard workouts, and doing my throws off of my left leg, my ankle is fine. Haven't taped it in 10 years. It happened that a lot of my interests ended up being balancey sports (judo, snowboarding, climbing, slacklining) that compliment one another quite nicely.
My left foot rests quite a bit lower than my right if i let my legs hang off the edge of the bed, and my tendon sheath on the outsdie pops over my fibia if i pull my toe back towards my shin, but it's otherwise fine and dandy. I actually prefer to use my left leg as my balance leg for all my trips and leg-swingy throws.
tldnr - sprained and dislocated the bejesus out of my left ankle three times in 3 years. did lots of balance training and physical therapy. anecdotally recommend kick-heavy swim workouts, slackline, and grass/mulch trail running.
