My Quads are Bitches

Dear Quads:

I don't like you and, apparently, you're not exactly fond of me.

I don't know what's wrong with you, but one would think that, after all the squats, lunges, chairs, warriors, stairs and running, that maybe, just maybe, you'd stop being candy ass bitches.

Does that seem so unreasonable?

No.

It does not.

Yet time and again you start pissing and moaning, getting tight and stiff when I still have workout left to do.

What is your problem, exactly?

Wait.

Scratch that.

Quads.

I don't care what your problem is.

I'll bet you're hoping that, if you give me enough grief, I'll stop torturing you.

Well guess what?

If there's one thing I've learned on this adventure, it's that the things that hurt the most, the things I hate the most are the things I need the most.

So you whiny, pansy ass bitches, get this:

I am not stopping. I am not slowing down. I am going to keep pushing. Harder. Faster. More. Until you figure out how to suck it up and play ball.

It will be easier on all of us if you hurry up and get on board with the rest of us.

M'kay?