I fractured my ankle on Tuesday.
Freak accident.
I was out running early morning, wrapping up a solid session. Main workout done. Heart rate coming down. Just cooling down before heading to the airport.
Then I misstepped onto a small curb I didn't see.
My ankle completely inverted. The foot got stuck underneath me as I was moving forward.
I heard a snap, crackle, and pop.
I hobbled for about 10 seconds, thinking maybe I could walk it off.
Then I realized this was bad.
It was pitch black. Middle of nowhere. I hobbled around on one leg until I found someone who could help me get a cab.
We were meant to leave for the airport in an hour.
Instead, I pushed the flight back and went straight to A&E.
I thought it was a ligament sprain. Maybe a bad one, but still just a sprain.
The doctor ran an X-ray and told me it's an avulsion fracture. The ligament literally pulled a piece of bone off my ankle.
In my disbelief, I asked: "Will I run again?"
(Dramatic, I know. But in the moment, that's where my head went.)
He said yeah, but I'd be out for a good few months.
Two weeks of doing nothing. Four to six weeks of recovery. Two to three months before I'm back to running.
Gutted doesn't quite cover it.
Probably the fittest I've been in my life. And now I'm on crutches with a boot, hobbling around a Singapore apartment with two young kids who think the whole thing is hilarious.
The timing is almost funny.
Last week, right before I turned 34, I wrote down one goal for the year ahead. Running-related.
I also asked myself: what would life look like if I couldn't train hard?
Universe delivered the answer pretty quickly.
Here's what happens when most people get injured.
They stop everything.
Can't do legs? Don't train at all. Can't run? Don't move. Frustrated? Give up entirely.
And three months later, they've lost strength, lost fitness, lost momentum.
Getting back feels harder than the injury itself.
I've had injuries before. Most of them from doing stupid things - ego lifting, pushing when I should have backed off, ignoring warning signs.
This one? Complete freak accident.
And that's part of the deal when you train consistently for years. Sometimes things just happen.
But stopping completely? That's not the answer.
I can't train lower body. I can't run. I can't do what I've been doing for the last 20 years.
But I can still train.
Upper body. Core work. Rehab. Whatever I can do within the limits of this fracture.
Because the worst thing I could do right now is nothing.
Here's the plan for the next two to three months:
Upper body training. Push, pull, shoulders, arms. Whatever I can do seated or lying down.
Core work. Planks, dead bugs, anything that doesn't aggravate the ankle.
Rehab exercises. As soon as I'm cleared, mobility work. Strengthening the ankle. Rebuilding the foundation.
Walking first, then running. Build back slowly when the time comes.
It's not the training I want to be doing.
But it's the training I can do.
And that's enough to keep moving forward.
I've seen this pattern play out hundreds of times.
Someone tweaks their back. Hurts their knee. Pulls a hamstring.
They're frustrated. Disappointed. Angry that their body let them down.
So they stop.
They tell themselves they'll start again when they're 100%. When the injury is fully healed. When they can do everything they were doing before.
But weeks turn into months.
And by the time they're cleared to train, the habit is gone. The momentum is gone. The identity is gone.
Getting back feels impossible.
Versus the people who adapt.
Can't squat? Focus on upper body. Can't run? Walk. Can't lift heavy? Work on mobility.
They stay in the game. They keep showing up.
And when the injury heals, they're not starting over. They're just resuming.
I've got a much greater appreciation now for being able to walk freely.
Crutches and a boot with two young kids is quite the experience.
(Though the kids seem to love the boot.)
But I'm not stopping.
Two to three months of upper body and rehab focus. Then I'll build back. Slowly. Deliberately.
Onwards.
See you Tuesday
— Akash
