April 4: OW.

Even though I wince descending stairs
As muscles burn from lactic copiousness
Inspiring numerous creative swears
That moderate discomfort does express,

And both my big toenails have gone the hue
Of Concord grapes: impacted, cracked, and sad,
So walking in a thick, restrictive shoe
Is really, really, really, really bad,

And yet, despite the minor aches and pains,
I wouldn’t trade a bit of yesterday
For joyful feet and moderate chilblains:
There is no joy in doing things halfway.

My thighs may ache, but they will bear my weight,
And though I went all-out, my calves feel great.

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