Serious massage therapy is like paying someone to beat you within an inch of your life – then put you through the wringer. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Bless my girl with the magic hands for forcing me to remember my Lamaze breathing as she pinpointed those muscles and ligaments who got themselves out of order when I wasn't looking! It may take another day to recover, but I think I'm back to normal. You know, the Robyn version of normal.
And thanks to rain tomorrow eve, book club Wednesday eve, and an ice cream meeting on Thursday, I don't have to worry I'll be tempted to do something silly like golf or kayak or wave wildly at mosquitoes. My back is safe from me.
For now.
And for the record, I'll never again say it sucks to get old. Based on the year 2020, every aching and non-aching day is a blessing!
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