Manure, Sweat, and Surrender

Today I stepped outside with every intention of being useful. Just a simple chore—shoveling manure on our small farm. Something I used to be able to do for hours without thinking twice. Five minutes. That’s all it took today.

My arms burned. My legs turned to lead. The world started spinning. A pounding headache slammed into my skull. Sweat poured down my forehead, stinging my eyes, dripping off my face, soaking my shirt until it clung to my back like a second skin. And it was only 75 degrees outside. Not even hot by most standards.

I had to stop. Had to sit down, head between my knees, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Once again, my body had issued a hard stop I never asked for.