I have come away for a few days to visit the friend who was run over by a lorry while cycling six weeks ago (there is a post from that day here). You'll be glad to hear she's healing up nicely- and slightly miraculously. Despite both legs (with the bike between them) having gone under the wheels one of them escaped with bruises and grazes and the other is in a toe-to-ankle cast but is expected to be completely fine again in another few months.
I have broken both my legs badly (not cycling, skiing) in the past, and helping her as she hops around on crutches I am reminded just how joyous it is to have the use of all my limbs. We have had long chats about the things she is looking forward to; walking, running, dancing...and hopefully, and some point, cycling. I remember that longing for motion so well, that gut-itching frustration to be free and independent, not chained to your crutches or pushed in a wheelchair. I thought I'd never take it for granted again, but I have. I do.
So today, in an entirely sincere way, I am loving my legs, with all their length and strength and despite their cyclist's calves. I hope you love yours too.