Frankenstein, the runner

My co-workers kept asking me if I was limping. I told them absolutely not, they just weren't used to seeing my new, graceful athletic gait. That wasn't something I could pull on my daughter. She watched me walk down the stairs the Monday morning after Sunday's half-marathon. It was a step-by-step adventure in pain.
My rehab was a trip to the grocery store where the cart worked well serving as a walker. To tell you the truth, I was stunned by how stiff and sore I was. I think it was actually worse than the day after the marathon. I guess I should have hung around and got the massage. Lactic acid intolerant, that's what I am.
Today I'm feeling better, although going down stairs still isn't a pleasant experience.