I woke up a bit sore yesterday. Took me a while to understand why.
The lowest limb of the huge poplar in our backyard hung quite a ways over our forthcoming veggie patch, threatening to overshade it. Two days ago, standing on a ladder two metres up the poplar’s trunk, I sawed off the offending branch.
With my left hand. And our pruning saw.
No, I’m not left-handed, but I’m some wicked with a pruning saw.
Ah, now we get it, your left arm was sore instead of the right one.
Well it was a bit, but that’s not what puzzled me.
Your feet then, from standing on the ladder?
Um, no, my feet were fine.
Parts of the Turtle that we’d rather not hear about?
No no, keep reading, you’re all right.
My quadriceps. The front muscles of my thighs. Apparently, partly from full-body exertion to work the saw through a ten-inch-thick branch, and partly from fear of the branch kicking the wrong way (i.e., towards me), I tensed those legs tighter than a pair of suspension springs. And I wasn’t even aware of it.
Walking downstairs is still a little painful today. But, yes, of course I’m proud of my work.