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My inner thighs hate me right now. I am making them do exercises they are not used to. And they let me know their disdain for me and my recent life choices through short, spasmodic, daily yelps of pain. They especially like to scold me when I make them walk down stairs or start a run.

After years in the shadows, my inner thighs now have the spotlight. I no longer play rugby—so, there are no bruises of both interesting shape and color to distract me, to give me a deep sense of accomplishment and a great sense of gratitude that I made it through another match without breaking anything or loosing teeth. It’s just my inner thighs now, grumbling at my new exercise regiment.

“Why couldn’t you stick with your daily 5k?” they moan, “We were used to that. It was easy. We didn’t have to work. We didn’t have to see our limits. We don’t like seeing our limits, it makes us feel weak…”

Yet, I don’t mind their complaints. Their grumblings remind me that I am stretching my body, investing in it to live a longer and more healthy life. Soon, their whining will dissipate, for deep down, they know this mild pain is good for them. Their weakness today will become their strength tomorrow. And by this week’s end they won’t mind at all. In fact, they’ll be quite surprised at how fun it is to bend and stretch in these new and wild ways.

…Until I add a few more reps next week.

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