Pain, pain, go away. Come again no other day

And today, on the tenth day of Cocktail-free February™,  I was awakened around 6:00 am by aching pains in my legs.  Normally, these sorts of pains are reserved for Sunday morning, when my body decides to begin recovering from the week's gym routine.  And it hurts like a mutha.

In fact, one Sunday morning a few years back when I was with my trick paramour at the time, he began to engage in some bedroom play with me, but said gym fatigue nixed the deal.  The spirit was willing, as was one very crucial part of the body, but the rest of me couldn't move.

But this morning's agony was odd.  I had only gone to the gym once last week.  I did have some nice walks up hills over the weekend, but nothing out of the ordinary or too strenuous.  So I popped an Aleve in the hopes of getting in a few precious hours more sleep.

This is all of note because I'm watching with some interest to see how my body and brain react to the continued absence of alcohol.  Maybe my legs were just ready to jump off my body and race to BevMo at their earliest convenience?  Only the Lord Jesus up in heaven knows.