I’m conducting a kind of experiment to see if I can run a 5k by the end of summer. That’s it. Not to run it in under 20 minutes, or beat my own record by 30 seconds. Just actually finish a race of 5 kilometers. I have never been a runner, and have always given up about 3 minutes in whenever I’ve tried, swearing that I “just wasn’t built for it”. I tend to have an all-or-nothing approach to doing most anything, so the idea of slowly building up to an accomplishment is, well, tough for me. I am using the Couch to 5k running plan, and have just finished the 5th of 9 weeks. So far, so good.
The thing is, I absolutely would not be able to do this if it weren’t for my running partner: my very-in-shape-and-naturally-gifted-athlete of a husband. He is right there by my side, every step. Again, he is in much better shape than I; he could run 5k any day of the week without breaking a sweat, and yet he stays shoulder to shoulder with me each and every stride, saying things like, “7 minutes in. You’ve got this.” or “18 minutes! That’s the longest you’ve ever run. Keep it up.” And never once does he push me to go faster or tell me how easy it is for him. He’s just there, encouraging me the whole way while I do the thing that I’ve set my mind to do.
And this is just his way. All day, every day. No pressure to be something or someone else, just unbridled support for me and what I want out of life.
So, I keep on running. In part, because I want to show myself I can do it. And in part because it’s pretty surreal to experience this palpable metaphor of marriage in the beautiful dusk of summer.
tags: relationships encouragement