I'm often asked how I managed to break my ankle in such a traumatic fashion. Surely a trimalleolar fracture (three breaks) has a really great story to go with it - because you can't do something that spectacular just walking down the street*, can you?
The date was June 23, 2009. I was hiking in the Appalachian Mountains with a group of poor orphans when I heard the cries of a tiny bear cub. I noticed that just over the side of the mountain, the baby cub was stuck, having broken his tender little paw on the way down. I led the children safely to a ranger station and returned to the injured cub. With no regard to my own safety, I shimmied down the side of the embankment to the cub's side. I created a splint from some wood that was lying nearby. I was, of course, careful not to disturb any living wildlife. I boosted the cub up into the paws of his waiting and grateful mother. The mothering instincts of the Brown Bear are amazing, I tell you.
As I began my ascent back up the side of the mountain, my footing gave way on some loose rocks and my ankle turned and was broken.
That's how it happened.
*I'm not sure about walking down the street, but I hear that you can do it while walking down stairs and texting. I heard about that somewhere. Probably on the Internet. But you can't believe everything you read on the Internet.