Three times I broke my right foot. Three times in the same place — directly below my big toe.
Strangers would ask why I was on crutches and wearing a cast, and I concocted elaborate stories to explain my temporary impairment.
“Skiing, over the holidays,” I’d say.
“Car accident. The vehicle was totaled so a broken foot is a minor inconvenience.”
“Dancing. My partner has two left feet.”