So, here I was about 4:50am sleeping like a fat bear and then my calf decides to contort itself. Some pain is good, this is not. I bolt upright in bed and start massaging the hell out of it, and then throw my leg over the bed and start stomping my toes into the ground. Eventually it goes away and I passed back out for an hour.
Whoever decided that it should be called a "charlie horse" either gave birth to 17 kids while passing a stone or they uttered the final words "charlie horse" right after a bus ran them over because they doubled over in pain in a cross walk. Charlie Horse implies something friendly, like a pony you'd want to have over on your 7th birthday. It doesn't bring visions of someone digging into your calf/thigh/hamstring with a meat hook, twisting it around, and then trying to pull it back through your skin.
Maybe they should be called inter-muscular shrapnel grenades.
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