I started running competitively when I was 8 years old. Met my hubby, he claimed to love running. So that worked to my benefit. He decided to go workout with me, I was happy to have a running buddy that could almost keep up with me. I learned later that he hated running but he could have kept up with me if he had wanted, he just preferred to look at my butt.
Fast forward 12ish years and we have a kid old enough to watch our younger kids for a short period of time, so my hubby and I figure we can go for a run together (hitting mid 30's he decided running was a necessary evil).
We follow my hubby's usual route.
We run 3 minutes and do pushups/situps/etc for a minute and repeat.
And he kicks my butt.
And as we race to the finish, I realize the tables have turned.
I used to be the good one.