Back in 2022, I broke my ankle in a way that can only be described as a slapstick series of cartoon-level misjudgements. Think Wile E. Coyote, but with less style and significantly more swelling.
It all started when I realised I’d left my phone and glasses inside a locked building. No big deal—except the building was surrounded by a 10-foot gate secured with a combination padlock… and my glasses were on the other side of the gate, so I couldn’t read the damn combination.
Brilliant.
In a moment of sheer genius (read: frustration-fuelled madness), I drove my car up to the gate, climbed onto the bonnet, scaled the gate like a ninja, and leapt heroically from the top.
When I hit the ground, I knew something wasn’t quite right—but instead of stopping, I ran (well, limped) about 200 metres to retrieve my phone and glasses. Priorities, right?
Now it seems ridiculous but by the time I got back to the car I was convinced I’d just walk it off when I got home.
Still, in true Irish fashion, I decided to “sleep it off.” I went to bed with an ankle the size of a space hopper and woke up determined to honour my early morning client session.
That plan lasted all of 0.3 seconds.
The moment my foot touched the floor, a bolt of white-hot pain shot through my entire body and I collapsed in a heap. I crawled to the kitchen on hands and knees like a wounded action hero, cancelled my client, and admitted defeat. A taxi ride later, I was at the hospital.
Diagnosis: broken ankle. Specifically, a nice clean split in the bottom of the tibia. Surgery followed, with two pins installed to hold things together. I also had to sit out the CrossFit Open that year, which only added salt to the wound (or metal to the bone, depending how you look at it).
Which brings us to this video.
About four weeks post-surgery, in a fit of pent-up frustration, I decided enough was enough. I set down my crutches, strapped on my moon boot, and completed a 10-metre handstand walk. Because apparently, not walking on your foot still leaves plenty of ways to be reckless.
So yes, technically I was injured… but I was still upside-down, stubborn, and mildly unhinged.
Moral of the story? Never underestimate the chaos that follows when you mix a locked gate an Irishman, poor eyesight, and a short fuse.
