I am married to Seabiscuit (or Secretariat, which he prefers)

This post is dedicated to my husband, Steven. I love you very much and I hope you forgive me for what I am about to say!

Last Sunday, Steven tells me he is tired of talking about running. He says that is all I try to talk to him about. Usually, he says I am not talking to him enough. Then I do talk to him, and he doesn't like it. He was quite an athlete in his day, before ligaments, tendons, ACLs, cartilage, rotator cuffs, and muscles were all torn and in disrepair. No matter what shape he is in now, he will always be more kinesthetically adept than I can ever aspire to be. Since he was classified "athlete" and I was only "cheerleader" I thought it made great sense to talk to him about running because he could advise me from an athletic standpoint versus a how-can-I-do-this-and-still-look-cute mentality. I guess he had heard enough because he did say to me "It's running, not rocket science." Yes, smarty, I know it is just running to you, but to me it is rocket science because I've never pushed my body to any exertion, except maybe while I was shopping and I tried to see how many hangers I could put on one hand. He also said I needed to stop turning every conversation with another human into one about running. He said I was going to run people off--r-u-n-n-o-f-t!!!! (any O'Brother, Where Art Thou fans????) If I have run you off, please come back!!!!!

Let me get back on track here! I finally convinced him to come run with me. I had been running up and down our road, which is constructed of asphalt. I started having mega issues with my SI joint (where the dimples are in your back, well, if you have dimples...some of you are so small you probably don't know what I am talking about!) My running buddy said we should run on her dirt road that is packed because it would be easier on our legs and joints. She was right! Since he approved of our running surface, Steven announced Thursday he would come with me to run the dirt road. I know how he is, and how he is always competitive against his younger self. I told him to take it slow, to keep his stride short, and to run/walk the way I was going to do until he could get his body adjusted to the strain of running. We started...and I always start slow.  (I read a blog called Slow Is The New Fast and I pay attention to these things!)Not Steven! He took off like Seabiscuit(or Secretariat). This is no exaggeration--he was completely out of sight and this dirt road is straight as an arrow, and after a minute he was gone!
      I yelled to him "Sloooowwww Dowwwnnnnn!"
     He said,  "I can't!"
     I said,  "Yes, you can!"    Now, while this scenario is playing out, it happens in slow motion, like when the actors from the movie "The Matrix" are fighting, and the scene gets slow, then ends up fast...I hope you can understand what I'm talking about!)
........ All I heard was my voice echoing through the woods. We get close to the pond, which is about 0.8 of a mile, and I see him walking. Actually, hobbling is more of an accurate description.  He started running again, and he was out of sight. This was beginning to stress me out. I've read you shouldn't run in a stressful environment where you have to worry about cars, dogs, kids, etc. but they didn't mention husbands! Finally, we spot him leaning against a post. I make it to him, and he tells me he can't walk on his leg because he has pulled a muscle. I asked him why he didn't just stop running, and he said he was so angry at himself for failing! He was mad that his leg was hurt so he decided he would just continue to injure it more. A few years ago he lifted weights with his cousins, who had been lifting quite a while, and he tore his rotator cuff. He should have known....I should have known.....I did feel bad for him because his job is physically demanding and I didn't want him injured! And he is self-employed.  Finally, my running buddy's mother-in-law appeared out of nowhere on her golf cart--what a blessing for Steven! He had  no shame as he hopped on the back and caught a ride to our finish line. She gave us water and Gatorade--it was so hot and humid and we were pouring sweat and I think she was worried we were dehydrating.

 Once we recovered from all of this drama, I had to drive home. I rubbed Icy Hot on his leg and gave him Advil. He is still limping 9 days later! He says he is going to try it again and that he has a new appreciation for me, but I couldn't hear him. After all, he told me he didn't want to talk about running.