Stuart Scott Quotes

I have a personal trainer who comes over at least four times a week and kicks my butt. I get so sore that I can't even walk.

Every third step I ran, my breath exploded out of me all in a rush. One step to suck in another cold lungful. One step to let it excape. One step of not breathing.

When you're working through the [fight] scenes, you're working on such adrenalin. And then, later, you're like, "Oh, god, my back hurts. Where did that come from?" Your entire arm can be bruised up, but you don't even think about it while you're working.

You can run but you can't hide... but I can try. I feel air catch in my lungs and I get a cramp in my side and this pain, this wonderful physical pain that I can place, reminds me that after all I am still alive.

I feel pain everyday of my life. When you see me perform, it's that pain you're seeing coming out. I put all my emotions, all my feelings, and my body on the line. People hurt me, I hurt myself - mentally, physically

One knows that after violent exercise one breathes heavily for some time: the more violent the exercise, the longer one's respiration is laboured.

My legs tightened up pretty much, and it was a hard last corner for me.

The writer's shortness of breath became more and more distressing as he rose.

I used to find going to the gym torturous.

During the season, I'm sore everywhere.

You do wonder - when you are at 28,000 feet, the height that aeroplanes cruise at, when you are struggling to draw breath and every limb aches - why do I do this?

You know that every bead of sweat falling off your head, every weight you've pumped - the history of that is all in your eyes.

When you hear the word tear gas you think, well, your eyes will burn and that's it. But that whole feeling of your whole skin burning, that you can't breathe, you can't inhale, you feel suffocated - it's a very, very terrifying experience.

I've been wrestling for 15 years so my body hurts.

Breathing is hard. When you cry so much, it makes you realize that breathing is hard.

She was singed, bleeding, bruised, and furiously alive.

Any workout which does not involve a certain minimum of danger or responsibility does not improve the body - it just wears it out.

Go for the burn! Sweat!

Of course, an exhausting day at sail lines and nets left little energy to expend on running or laughing. Perhaps that was why her parents couldn't appreciate her music - it wouldn't appear to be hard work to them. Menolly shook her hands, letting them flap from her wrists. They ached and trembled from the constricted movements and tension of an hour of intensive playing. No, her parents would never understand that playing musical instruments could be as hard work as sailing or fishing.

Runnin' this game for five years, guess that's why my feet hurt.

It hurts to look at the clouds, but it also helps, like most things that cause pain. So I need to run, and as my lungs burn and my back rebels with that stabbing knife feeling and my legs muscles harden and the half inch of loose skin around my waist jiggles, I feel as though my penance for the day is being done and that maybe God will be pleased enough to lend me some help, which I think is why He has been showing me interesting clouds for the past week.

If you couldn't tell the difference between what hurt and what didn't, you had no business being alive. You can't have any good times if you can't tell.

And she was terribly aware that she was alive. Not just living and breathing, but ...alive.

My body is a little bit sore from all of the practicing and playing and training

My arms hurt from how tightly Patch held me. “Now that’s what I call a scream,” he said, grinning at me.