This Is The Voice of My Body. (NF)

I'd expected my calves to hurt. I'd fought against them for the last few hours reaching Half Dome. Then again, the way back down the mountain had been a nice several hour break for those uphill muscles. But atlas, my calves did not hurt, and as I woke up, curled in my sleeping bag, it was my knees that killed me. Bend, Unbend- it all hurt. I worried about how I was going to manage packing up the tent. Certainly not with Brett's help, his legs had him in agony on the trail far before I was ready to give up.

I wormed out of the tent and hobbled strait legged towards the bathroom. Squatting. Oh hell. Never mind the campgrounds luxurious toilet seat covers, compassionately well stocked, I still had to squat to sit, and as I did I nearly collapsed. I sat a good extra 5 minutes before I worked up the courage to stand up and unbend those knees.

An hour of hobbling around the campground packing up and my knee muscles slowed their complaining. Thank goodness.

A car Ride home, and the knees returned to their wicked ways.

Unpacking and they worked their way soft again. I was going to be all right.

Weeks later and the muscle pain is long gone, but in it's place is an invisible bruise, it surfs above my knee cap. It pounds when I walk, it cringes when I touch, it screams.

This is the voice of my body, and it says "27 isn't 17 is it, dollface?"