You know, I’ve always feared an achilles rupture. It stems from childhood trauma witnessing my uncle re-rupturing his, complete with a bloody failure of his incision. Ever seen a grown man writhe on the ground bellowing in agony? It sticks with you.
Thankfully, I’m not nearly the pussy he is. I had a good bit of pain in the seconds after the incident, and skiing down the mountain was no picnic. Boot removal probably should have required a biting rag (or whatever its called), but no such luck. Still, no writhing. See poll below.