In early April, I went with my family to celebrate my 49th (!) birthday at Disneyland, which has become a tradition aimed at making me feel much younger than I actually am. After a full day of charging hard through both California Adventure and the original park, we had dinner in Downtown Disney, and while I was enjoying my paella, I first felt my muscles start to seize up. The next day, and everyday thereafter, my muscles continued to swell, ache and lose elasticity. I went from holding the title of ‘flexibility queen’ in my yoga classes to not being able to straighten my arms, lift my arms overhead, sit on the floor or even open my mouth wide enough to shove in a sandwich. A trip to the New Orleans Jazz Fest confirmed in my mind that there was definitely a problem. For 3 straight days, I stood 8-9 hours in the searing heat saving spots on the front rail for my favorite bands: Tom Petty, Bruce Springsteen and the Beach Boys. A lot of my neighboring place savers were sitting down between warm up bands, but I couldn’t. At the end of each day, I was STOKED on the tunes, 99% deaf, and it appeared that my legs had been somehow replaced with those of a pachyderm. I searched for Allen Funt or Ashton Kutcher, but they were nowhere to be found. Those were indeed my legs. I still thought it would just go away on its own, but after a few more weeks, I knew I had to go in and see my primary doctor, who I had seen previously solely to get travel meds. Dr. C examined me, asked a barrage of questions and was “perplexed” by my symptoms.