Needless to say, the day after the first game, I could barely walk. Getting in and out of the car was torturous and I had to use my hands to lift my legs inside.
My husband laughed at me.
Fast forward to this past weekend.
My husband walked 12 miles on Sunday (that's not a typo). When he returned from his walk, we went to dinner. After dinner, we went back to the truck. He struggled to get into the vehicle, using his hand to lift his leg, then grabbing onto the steering wheel to haul his ass into the truck.
I laughed at him.
Guess it's all in the perspective.
Or…payback's a bitch!