Wednesday, November 23, 2011


Long story short: On our second day of sailing out of Stamford -- at the height of our most turbulent seas -- I jumped from the boat's deck into the cockpit and badly rolled my left foot. It immediately bruised and swelled pretty badly, but I could walk on it so I just kept working. Frankly, I didn't really have much choice out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. By the time we reached Tortola, the bruising was all gone and most of the swelling had gone down, so I figured that was pretty much it.

Here in Atlanta, my friend Ken noticed that I was walking a bit gimpy and inquired as to what the problem might be. I told him the story and -- despite my resistance -- he made me see his favorite orthopedist. As Ken put it, "Dude, you're 53 years old. You can't ignore this kind of stuff like we did when we were kids!"

The doctor felt and probed my foot, declared that it was probably just a bad sprain but decided to take some x-rays anyway. After just a glance at the film, the doctor pointed to the shadowy arc inside the red circle and said, "Oh, it's busted!" The prognosis: It'll be sore for a couple more months and complete healing will probably take most of a year.

So, there you have it… I'm busted! I've had a really nice, quiet week here in Atlanta and have enjoyed hanging out and catching up with good friends. At the moment, I have absolutely no plan going forward except to take some time to ponder possible plans going forward. Stay tuned!

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