Now, when I come home from dance lessons, I have more energy than I did when I left the house. This is a new thing, and much appreciated. My feet and lungs and heart have become lazy, complaining, assholes. My leg continues to be a horrible mystery that neither makes sense nor improves. SIGH. I have a followup appointment with sports medicine on Friday.
And, you know what? There's a new guy, he just started grad school here, and he's sexy and nice and a really good dancer (but he only knows International ballroom, so he's still learning, too) and he never wears shirts that have sleeves. So I am thankful for the good things in life, like dancing with sexy bare-armed men.