On the Subject of Pain

Today, for the first time in maybe like, ever, I willingly engaged in team sports. I don't think the basketball team fiasco in first grade really counts; all the other girls were in second grade, and I'm pretty darn sure it wasn't my idea at all. Just because I was tall for my age didn't mean I would be good at basketball! I'm a flying solo kind of gal; I much preferred dance and violin lessons to running around on a field/court, passing and hustling and scoring. But today, despite my lack of skillz on the field/total lack of experience in regards to the game of soccer, and on top of having a slight hangover, I quite enjoyed myself.

Nevertheless, all I could think about as I walked up the stairs to my fifth floor apartment was: how will I ever find the strength to climb these stairs tomorrow, the dreaded day after?? My leg muscles are already sending frantic signals to my brain, signals that are saying things like "what's all this activity down here" and "mayday, mayday!" and "going offline in t-minus..." I need to get me one'a those big walking sticks to prop myself up as I make the ascent. Something like what Moses had when he climbed that mountain to talk to the God bush about blind obedience to a higher power. Yeah, that was a good stick.