Stretch.

A few of my toes and a couple of my fingers are currently feeling slightly uncomfortable. I cut their nails too short a moment ago and they're squealing in agony.

My stomach is what some might refer to as "lobster" status. I got burnt today. Adding to the discomfort.

Yesterday I squatted about 267 times as a means of harnessing small children for a giant swing. My quads are wailing today.

I pushed a massive yellow scaffolding about 64 times across a 15 yard span today. My delts and traps will wail tomorrow.

My body is beat up. I'm exhausted.

I feel like I'm in the last three miles of a marathon. The physical pain couldn't possibly stifle the elation I'm feeling about nearing the finish line. I have one month left in this place. One month. Every day is a step towards the big FINISH banner. And every day remains a sacrifice. This job has been the most physically taxing experience of my life. More brutal than any marathon. But you gotta die to live people. I've loved every minute of it. OK, maybe not every minute. But most of them.

I've been a chef, a housekeeper, a snack bar attendant, a videographer, a barista, a skate park supervisor, and a giant swing operator in this year of life.

I've challenged my capabilities and learned to believe in them in more ways than I can say.

I've grown up. A lot.

I've grown into my skin.

My heart feels like it fits comfortably in the cavity created for it. For once it doesn't feel constricted. Stifled. Smothered with bitter pillows.

And now I think I'm ready, ready to bungee back into the real world.

One month left.