Sore, Long Legs...

I am sure the LONG legs part gives it away that I am not referring to my legs.  My legs have never and will never be referred to as long.  Know your place, right?

The long legs that I am referring to are those that belong to my husband.  His legs are sore people.  And why are they sore?  Because I took him running with me.  Let that sink in for a moment.  Ken went running with me.  This is the first time it has happened in oh....ever.  Why did he go running with me?  We are planning on hiking Rim to Rim to Rim of the Grand Canyon again and well, he is not in shape at all to do this at the moment. 

I kind of went all drill sergeant on him and told him it was now or never.  I am 4'10 and I am not dragging him across the Grand Canyon.  He agreed to go out running with me.  Super. 

Now, I am not making fun of him at all.  At all.  I run, he doesn't.  He will never want to be a runner.  Although, he could if he put forth just a tiny bit of effort.  I mean, have you seen his long legs? 

We did a total of two miles and it was a run/walk kind of thing.  I am pretty sure there were a few moments where he was convinced that I was trying to kill him for his life insurance.  He survived, no need to worry. 

So yesterday, he was all, my legs are sore will you give me a leg massage.  A leg massage?  You mean, you completed a two mile run/walk and you want a leg massage?  I completed a full Ironman and did not get a leg massage.  What is wrong with this picture. 

Did I give him a leg massage?  You bet I did.  Why, well I am currently in the market for a new handbag and I am hoping that my long legged husband will foot the bill for said handbag.  Eye on the prize people, eye on the prize.  In short, I can be bought.  This is nothing new.

Love you Ken!