finding wisdom in what aches

My knee is tired. This simple truth lands in my chest like the thud of the old-school yellow pages on a hard desk. There's a heaviness here I've been dutifully avoiding. My knee is tired. It's tired of running, tired of pushing, tired of jumping, tired twisting and bending, tired of extending beyond itself to get just ... a little ... further.

And when I hear my knee, when I can really let these words in, I get it. Yeah knee, I'm fucking tired too.