August 13, 2012 by CJ
I have not been a very good blogger. Like running, I have a million excuses as to why and like running the only way to make myself do it on a regular basis is to make a habit out of it. My plan is to write a post a day for the next 30 days.
It would probably be easier or look a bit more organized if I started this venture on the first of the month. But like that diet that is always promised for next Monday, if I wait, I don’t think it’ll happen. I cannot make any promises about the next 30 days. I am just hoping that if I make this commitment to myself and this blog, I won’t take such a long break from writing in the future.
I recently celebrated my 39th birthday. I was with my family and friends at the beach for the week. For me, there is no better place to spend a birthday. The day started with a run with my husband. We don’t run together often, actually rarely. If we happen to start off at the same time, he quickly passes me. He claims running at my pace, hurts his knees, HAHAHA. That may or may not be true, but it’s okay. It never really bothered me. On my birthday, after a very late night and a few too many drinks, we both got up and decided we’d do a 3 mile run. I figured he’d take off and pass me at some point on the way back. But this time he didn’t. He claimed the beer from the night before was making it ok for him to run at my pace. For the record, my pace averaged around 12-12:30. If you know anything about me, you know that is pretty darn fast. While he had to slow himself down to stay with me, I was pushing myself to keep up with him. I stop and walk during my runs, not because I am tired or worn out, I think I stop just out of habit. My husband, he does not stop.
We left the house and ran toward the boardwalk. Once we got up there we ran until it ended, turned around and went back to the house. I’d like to say it was that simple, but it wasn’t. After about a half mile, I stopped and walked. My hubby started, “Why are you stopping? You can push past this. You should only stop if you can’t go anymore, not because you feel it’s time to stop.” I wanted to smack him. Smack him with my sweaty hand, right in his sweaty face. “It is my birthday!!!” I wanted to scream. “You are supposed to be nice to me today.” I bit my tongue and nodded. He was right. I keep claiming I want to run faster, be stronger…if I want that I need to really push it. I started running again. Through some traffic, up the ramp to the boardwalk and in and out of the walkers, bikers, skateboarders and runners that occupy the boardwalk early in the morning. I’d stop and he was right there, pushing me to keep running. Each time he’d push, my anger swelled up. But I kept silent and got my legs moving. My only saving grace was my husband’s calf kept cramping up on him. Why was this good for me? He had to stop and stretch it out, which gave me a chance to catch my breath and take a few pictures.
When we neared the house, my husband was about 12-14 feet ahead of me. As we crossed the last street, he turned around to check on me. Seeing me still trudging along, body in a running stance, he gave me two thumbs up. I can’t say what it was or why it happened, but seeing him give me the thumbs up made my day. I didn’t care what we had planned for the rest of the day, it didn’t matter. As much as I hate having someone drag me along behind them, not accepting my pleas for mercy, I loved having him there and I can’t wait to do it again.