Stops and starts on the road to marital bliss
About a decade ago, my wife and I decided to run together.
The idea was to spend quality time doing something other than drinking wine and watching TV, which, in our defence, had been working perfectly fine up to that point (and still does). Maybe get some exercise, too.
It was an unmitigated disaster. As usual, it was mostly my fault. I was in the midst of my mid-life crisis running phase, determined to push myself farther and faster at every opportunity as I attempted to stave off what felt like the inevitable physical decline brought on by the passage of time (note: it didn’t work). I took running very seriously; she was just starting out. What could go wrong?
Everything, predictably. Despite my best efforts, she felt like she was holding me back. And she did not appreciate my words of encouragement and endless, stream-of-conscious running advice. At all.
Plus, running kinda sucks, especially when you’re a newbie. While it’s possible to moderate your pace somewhat, anything beyond a comically slow-motion jog becomes taxing on your body and mind pretty quickly. If you’re not used to it, the body going “Oh my God, please stop, we’re going to die!” is pretty easy to give in to, even if it isn’t true (and it isn’t).
To her credit, she toughed it out for a few months, ran a 5kilometre race and gave it up with a simple “this is not for me.”
I didn’t argue and went back to training like an idiot. We were both happier for it.
So imagine my surprise when one fine day this summer, apropos of pretty much nothing, my wife said “I’m thinking of training for a 5K.”
Huh. OK.
Being a self-centred moron, my first thought was that this desire was fuelled by my own recent return to the running life after a long, injury-related absence. (Who knew that doing every workout at max effort would lead several tendons in my ankle to attempt to leap from my body by way of escaping the misery?)
Nope. My wife’s lifelong journey of self-discovery has led her to a place where taking on seemingly insurmountable challenges (mostly based on irrational fear) is currently a thing. In a different frame of mind — and after a few years of yoga — she wanted to see if running would be different this time around.
So she joined a running group, a like-minded crew of mostly first-timers who have inspired and supported each other through the process thus far. The returns have been fast and furious: she came back from a recent run beaming with pride after going farther, longer and faster — a rare combo — than ever before. It’s been fun to watch.
We’ve even run together a little. She controls the pace, I carry the water. We both wear headphones, lost in our own little world of pleasant suffering. We don’t talk, me especially.
And it seems to work, much like our marriage. We’re on the same path but our journeys are unique to each of us. But we are, most importantly, together. And out of breath.