I'm sorry we got to this point in our relationship. It's ironic that you're the ones who are suffering now, because I've never had any problem with your size and shape. (The Stomach, on the other hand, is definitely in my bad books.)
First, you felt the burn when I started running, lo these many years ago now. But I have to say, you adapted splendidly when I showed no sign of stopping, and now you only punish me when I run again for the first time after too many days of slug-itude. You've done incredibly well as I get into a new training regimen that just may culminate in my running 21 kilometres, if I survive.
But Thighs, this fitness Bootcamp thingy I've been doing this week? The 45-minute torture session of hops and lunges and sprints and pushups and the dreaded (and dreadfully named) Burpees? The sessions that leave you (and me) barely able to hobble up the stairs? Well, take comfort in the fact that it was practically a freebie, and there's no way I can justify the indulgence of regularly-priced bi-weekly sessions with this guy.
But be warned: I may take some of his lessons to heart and spring 'em on you when you least expect it. There's nothing wrong with my memory, although my legs may be barely functioning.