My calf: "That hurt."
Me: "It was a bike pedal and I wasn't going that fast. Get over it."
My calf: "Really, that hurt. A LOT."
Me: "Yeah yeah whatever."
I biked two miles uphill towards home, with my left leg generally bemoaning its fate, and then took the three-mile detour that I'd planned, because six miles is pretty 'eh' as a work out.
Calf: "Can we stop yet?"
Me: "No. It's not like you're going to stop hurting because I'm sitting down anyway. You hurt even when I'm stopped at a light."
Calf: "I hate you."
Six miles total later I finished my workout. LIKE A BOSS. An injured boss.
I dismounted the bike and walked into the garage.
Calf: "ZOMG WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME NOW?"
Me: "... walking?"
Calf: "I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS."
My leg had not been thrilled about biking but it was miserable walking. I limped back into the house, looking so pathetic that Lut volunteered to make dinner for me. I took a couple of ibuprofen, but it wasn't thrilled even with sitting down. After fifteen minutes at my computer, I went to the bedroom to read. Lying on my stomach or side worked best, by allowing my leg to stay mostly-but-not-entirely straight with no pressure on the injured side. After napping for an hour, I got up again and it's not bothering me as much, but at this rate I will not be walking to work tomorrow.