I didn’t want to go for a run tonight – I was tired and cranky after starting a long day at 4am after yet another crap nights sleep, it was hot (it’s always hot. only the humidity varies.), and my knee was sore (unknown – perhaps I crossed my legs at some stage?) – PLUS I’ve already done 6 days, surely I can rest for ONE???
The lush of my life wanted to go. He looked worse than I did, and he still wanted to go. 100K in a month? Wasn’t that his bloody idea in the first place? Didn’t I say ‘Challenge accepted’ in a public arena? So I had a teaspoon of HTFU, rubbed some tiger balm into my knee, and off we went.
I knew he was tired, cos he kept up with me. Normally, that’s a bad enough thing in itself, but today I decided to start the 5K plan I’ve loaded off miCoach (yes, I know they shit me to tears. But it’s so COMFY!), and there was a lot of ‘blue zone’ running – aka the kind of pace you feel bad for being that slow, and wish your shirt said: ‘I’m not running slow, I’m training for an ultra!’- so it was UBER slow for him. And if that wasn’t bad enough, once we’d cooled down, I did some pilates – the same exercise that I started and abandoned the other day. And it was still tough. But – I made it all the way through (okay, so I suck at it, but everyone has to start somewhere, right???), and then he gave it a go. He’d said he would do it with me next time, after my first effort when I said how sore it was but how good I thought it would be, and he did. No prompting required.
I’m so lucky to have someone in my life who tolerates – nay, EMBRACES- my follies and foibles. He cooks and eats quinoa and lentils, runs with me and lets me cry on his shoulder when the scales hate me, without being patronising or condescending. Okay, so he’s probably just really, really good at pretending he’s interested, but that works for me.
He’s the bestest bestershischist ever.