Muscles like to remind you that they are there, hiding under flesh and skin. The dang things do it in a rather passive-aggressive style. They’ll stay nice and quiet while you ignore them, but as soon as you ask them to do something above and beyond the normal, they’ll get pissy and complain.
My CrossFit workout last night was a doozy. It wasn’t the six attempts at finding your longest broad jump, nor was it the “Death by 10 meter Sprints,” it was the walking lunges. OUCH.
We do squats, deadlifts, clean and jerks, and all kinds of other moves regularly, but we don’t do lunges very often. So my quads, hammies, and glutes remind me angrily of this fact after I do them. Last night I lunged 200 meters… and god, was it hard to do. So today, and definitely tomorrow, and at least three more days after that, my muscles will complain in a snitty little manner about how badly I ignore them all the time, and too bad I’m not nicer to them when it counts, and gee, it’s not their fault that I’m miserable.
Yep, we’re in a relationship that needs some work.
