Someone hit me with a baseball bat...

OK, so nobody actually hit me with a baseball bat -- it just felt like someone had. I tore my Achilles tendon Thursday night while playing volleyball. Totally a freak accident. I was just playing as usual - nothing out of the ordinary - but when I made an approach for a kill, I heard a shotgun blast go off. At least that's how it sounded to my ears. It might not have been quite that loud, but I think if you stood on a chair and dropped a phone book on the floor, that's about how loud it was.

It is so crazy to realize how quickly your mind works: before I even hit the ground, I remember thinking, "Someone must have just jumped on the back of my ankle," and, "Why would someone do that?" and, "My leg must be broken." Then when I hit the ground, I realized there was no one near me. With a few more seconds, I started to piece things together. I've heard other horror stories of loud pops and baseball bats to the back of the heel. When one of my teammates asked me if it was my ankle, my first response was, "I think it's my Achilles."

Sure enough, the doctor confirmed the next day that I had ruptured my Achilles. For those not versed in medical terminology, that means that my calf muscle was no longer attached to my heel (via the Achilles tendon). It was a bit freaky to watch as the doctor made his diagnosis (this is something you could even play along with at home). He had me lay on my stomach and dangle my feet off the edge of the exam table. If you squeeze your own calf, you should see your foot point slightly. My left foot pointed a little, as it should, but my right foot didn't budge.

I was very glad to get the doctor's appointment the same day I called, and I was also happy to get the surgery set for this morning. I figured, the sooner I can get recovery started, the better. I started my morning at 6:15, got to the hospital at 7, and made it onto the operating table just before 9 (not that I was awake by then). Apparently, the surgery went well. It only lasted about an hour, but I didn't find consciousness again until just after noon. I'm feeling pretty good now, but I've been fairly groggy most of the afternoon. Jill, of course, has been great. She's doing her usual best with the girls and doing great with another really big kid. One positive for the day (besides a loving and caring wife) is that I get to watch some great basketball on a comfortable couch, sipping Ginger Ale. That's pretty sweet.

The road to recovery is going to take several months. I'm definitely pretty bummed about that. I'll be on crutches for the first month, and then I'll have a boot on for a while after that. The good news is that the prognosis for recovery is very good over the long term. I should be able to get back playing sports again with a very small chance of reinjury. And at least I made it through the ski season with a great trip to Utah before this happened.

Thanks for all the well wishes from family and friends. I'll try to keep you posted on progress or at least try to post gross-out pics of the staples and scar.

I didn't get my injury on tape, but you can watch Misty May-Treanor snap her Achilles on Dancing With The Stars. Try to listen for the pop (or turn down the volume if that makes you squeamish).