Thursday, September 29, 2016

Running with my husband

For the entire span of our marriage, I've held at hope.  I knew if I just waited/prayed/begged/cajoled long enough, I would wear my husband down.  For 15 plus years, he was not the least.  He had absolutely no desire to lace up running shoes and pound the pavement along side his wife.  Furthermore, he had no interest in lacing up running shoes and pounding the pavement by himself.  He unequivocally was not a runner, he declared over and over.  He even mocked my endless need to rack up miles and secure quick racing times.

A few months ago, things changed.  Chris, preparing for an upcoming trip to the Grand Canyon, started to heavily train.  Most days, he visited the gym.  He at meals that would make the strictest of dietitians swoon.  He dropped weight.  He built up endurance.  He became lean and buff.

And in the midst of all his training, he began to run.  He started off with a mile or two.  He'd emerge from the treadmill with a scowl. It was clearly not love at first sight between Chris and running.  But over time, he added miles and built up speed.  Today, he can run five miles like a champ.

Last week, he asked me, out of the blue, if I would like to run with him.  He popped the question without one ounce of fanfare while I was reacting as if he proposed all over again.

Did I want to run with him?

Yes, I've wanted to run with him for the 6,000 days of our marriage.   I think my response was a bit convoluted between all the squeals and jumping.

Last Wednesday, we showed up at the running path in the blanket of darkness.  We agreed on five miles, and we fell into stride together.  Chris thought of the run as a joint exercise experience; I thought it was social time.  So, we both treated it as such.  I chattered through the miles, while he patiently listened and stayed the course.

At the end of five miles, I couldn't stop smiling.  

He did it.  

We did it.  

And, I couldn't wait to do it again....together.

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