Leg Day Laughs – Hilarious Quotes to Keep Your Workout Fun

Leg day: the reason I walk like a penguin for the next three days.

Leg day: the only day I’m grateful for escalators.

I don’t need stairs or elevators, leg day gives me all the lifting I need.

Leg day: the day when my quadriceps become quivering quads.

Leg day: where you discover muscles you didn’t even know existed.

My legs are so sore after leg day that sitting on the toilet becomes an Olympic event.

Leg day: the day when I become one with the squat rack.

I love leg day so much, I even have a tattoo of a dumbbell on my thigh.

Leg day: when I feel the burn in places I didn’t even know had muscles.

Leg day: where my dreams of having jelly legs finally come true.

Who needs a butt when you can have legs that can crush watermelons?

Leg Day Laughs – Hilarious Quotes to Keep Your Workout Fun part 2

Leg day: the only day I’m grateful for sore muscles.

I walk the fine line between pain and pleasure on leg day.

Leg day: the day when my booty game gets strong.

Leg day: the day when I embrace my inner flamingo.

Leg day: the reason I wear yoga pants for maximum flexibility.

Leg day: where I find my calves have more veins than a road map.

Squat like nobody’s watching on leg day.

Leg day: where walking becomes a form of modern art.

Leg day: the day I become a human giraffe.

Leg day: when I realize stairs are the true enemy.

Don’t skip leg day unless you want to walk like a newborn deer.

Leg day: where I find out just how noisy my knees can be.

Leg day: making skinny jeans my worst enemy.

Leg day: when my legs feel like Jell-O made by an angry chef.

I don’t have a six-pack, but I have a twelve-pack of chicken legs after leg day.

Leg day: the day when I can finally put my squat proof leggings to the test.

Leg day is the only day of the week where my socks get a good stretch too.

Leg day: the only time I’m grateful for the invention of the foam roller.

Leg day: where I discover new ways to curse in every squat.

On leg day, even standing up becomes a workout.

Leg day: where I question my decision to take the stairs instead of the elevator.

My legs are so sore after leg day, I could win a limbo competition without even bending.

Leg day: the day when bending down to tie my shoes becomes a tactical operation.

Leg day: when my thighs feel like they’ve been hit by a wrecking ball.

Why bother skipping leg day when you can just crawl everywhere?

Leg day: the day I pray I won’t have to use the bathroom at work.

Leg day: where my running becomes a cross between a newborn giraffe and a penguin.

Leg day: when walking down stairs becomes a slow and careful descent into madness.

Leg day: the day my thighs say ‘thank you’ with every step.

Leg day: it’s like Christmas morning, except instead of gifts, I get intense muscle pain.

Leg day: when I hate every decision that led me to this moment.

Leg day: the only day I feel Martha Graham would be proud of my interpretive dance moves.

Leg day: where I discover muscles I didn’t even know existed.

Leg day is a constant reminder that my body hates me, but I love the pain.

Leg day: giving me the steely determination to never wear shorts again.

Leg day: where I channel my inner caveman and become one with the squat.

Leg day: when I can’t decide if sitting or standing is more painful.

Who needs a personal trainer when leg day gives me my own natural wobble?

Leg day: the day when I realize my butt is my greatest nemesis.

Leg day: the reason I walk like a penguin for the next three days.

Leg day: the only day I’m grateful for escalators.

I don’t need stairs or elevators, leg day gives me all the lifting I need.

Leg day: the day when my quadriceps become quivering quads.

Leg day: where you discover muscles you didn’t even know existed.

My legs are so sore after leg day that sitting on the toilet becomes an Olympic event.

Leg day: the day when I become one with the squat rack.

I love leg day so much, I even have a tattoo of a dumbbell on my thigh.

Leg day: when I feel the burn in places I didn’t even know had muscles.

Leg day: where my dreams of having jelly legs finally come true.

Who needs a butt when you can have legs that can crush watermelons?

Leg day: the only day I’m grateful for sore muscles.

I walk the fine line between pain and pleasure on leg day.

Leg day: the day when my booty game gets strong.

Leg day: the day when I embrace my inner flamingo.

Leg day: the reason I wear yoga pants for maximum flexibility.

Leg day: where I find my calves have more veins than a road map.

Squat like nobody’s watching on leg day.

Leg day: where walking becomes a form of modern art.

Leg day: the day I become a human giraffe.

Leg day: when I realize stairs are the true enemy.

Don’t skip leg day unless you want to walk like a newborn deer.

Leg day: where I find out just how noisy my knees can be.

Leg day: making skinny jeans my worst enemy.

Leg day: when my legs feel like Jell-O made by an angry chef.

I don’t have a six-pack, but I have a twelve-pack of chicken legs after leg day.

Leg day: the day when I can finally put my squat proof leggings to the test.

Leg day is the only day of the week where my socks get a good stretch too.

Leg day: the only time I’m grateful for the invention of the foam roller.

Leg day: where I discover new ways to curse in every squat.

On leg day, even standing up becomes a workout.

Leg day: where I question my decision to take the stairs instead of the elevator.

My legs are so sore after leg day, I could win a limbo competition without even bending.

Leg day: the day when bending down to tie my shoes becomes a tactical operation.

Leg day: when my thighs feel like they’ve been hit by a wrecking ball.

Why bother skipping leg day when you can just crawl everywhere?

Leg day: the day I pray I won’t have to use the bathroom at work.

Leg day: where my running becomes a cross between a newborn giraffe and a penguin.

Leg day: when walking down stairs becomes a slow and careful descent into madness.

Leg day: the day my thighs say ‘thank you’ with every step.

Leg day: it’s like Christmas morning, except instead of gifts, I get intense muscle pain.

Leg day: when I hate every decision that led me to this moment.

Leg day: the only day I feel Martha Graham would be proud of my interpretive dance moves.

Leg day: where I discover muscles I didn’t even know existed.

Leg day is a constant reminder that my body hates me, but I love the pain.

Leg day: giving me the steely determination to never wear shorts again.

Leg day: where I channel my inner caveman and become one with the squat.

Leg day: when I can’t decide if sitting or standing is more painful.

Who needs a personal trainer when leg day gives me my own natural wobble?

Leg day: the day when I realize my butt is my greatest nemesis.