After walking around like a Grandma for what seemed to be the entire day today, I found myself subconsciously questioning my particular choice in weekend activities. Perhaps doing all of those wonderful things all in the space of just one single day was maybe just a little too much to begin with.

Considering I woke up this morning unable to lift my arms above my head, perhaps so eagerly suggesting a throwing competition with my stud of a boyfriend, wasn’t such a wonderful idea after all.

Considering I awoke to the extreme ache of every single tiny little muscle surrounding my ribs; muscles that up until now, I didn’t even know existed, perhaps deciding to continuously swing a broom handle in an attempt to hit a wiffle ball wasn’t such a wonderful idea either.

Considering from the first moment I opened my eyes this morning I have been struggling to simply move in general, perhaps the spontaneous request to be picked up and carried at full speed around the backyard, every single time that I managed to hit the ball was also not such a wonderful idea.

On the plus side however, even after all of that, those aching little legs of mine are still allowing me to walk. Something that even now continues to amaze me and those muscles, the ones that are aching, well I am more than pleased to say that this time they’re aching by choice.

This time they’re aching because I chose to spend the afternoon doing something that I love, not as the result of a medical condition and that in itself is a miracle. A miracle that I have been praying for, for what feels like an eternity. A miracle that I am now grateful for each and every single day.

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