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At the time, the injury seemed fine, like someone had punched me. But now it seems more serious, ladies and gentlemen...

Injuries occurred during the weekend: One

Location of injury: left gut, left ribs

Approximate time of injury: about 3AM.

Location of incident: Near Clark Quay

Description of injury-causing incident: With about 10 half-litre beers swimming in my brain, we were leaving the 3rd and final bar of the night to catch our respective transportation home. A leisurely walk down a back street becomes suddenly violent as I spot a huge pile of sand on the sidewalk. The sand was there due to construction on the street, and various portions of the street were sectioned off.

With seven people trailing, I did the only logical thing. I decided to run full speed into the soft pile of sand, in order to get some cheap laughs, and also to fulfil my "stunt man" quotient for the day.

I looked right for traffic, I looked left for traffic. All clear. With a small breeze at my back I felt the freedom of a bird in flight. My New Balance shoes were tearing up the street at unheard-of speeds. My plan was to jump onto the sand pile and possibly roll onto the other side.

As I approached, I timed my dismount and leaped sideways towards the pile. I felt like Jordan when he jumped from the free throw line on that fateful day of the 1987 slam-dunk championships. As I soared through the air, seconds felt like minutes. I imagined the rolling green hills of France, the beautiful peaks of the Rocky Mountains, and the soft pile of sand about to catch me in mid-flight.

One second after my sneakers left the ground, my ribs and stomach caught a large stabbing pain. I uttered a large grunt and had the wind knocked out of me. As I slumped to the ground, a series of nervous laughs spewed forth from the spectators, taunting me as I tried to regain my breath and shake the cobwebs from my head. What the hell had happened?

As I could clearly tell, this was no ordinary pile of sand. This was no pile of sand just sitting on the street waiting to fill in the spaces of the nearby trench: this was a pile of hardened cement, luring me, daring me to be brazen enough to jump headlong into it.

At the time, the injury seemed fine, like someone had punched me. But now it seems more serious, ladies and gentlemen. After 2 days of having a knot in my stomach and a cramp on my side, I have come to a very real conclusion:

My name is Mike Boceke, and I am pretty sure I am bleeding internally.