I am a Chicago Marathon H8R. In fact, the Chicago Marathon and I should probably go on Mario Lopez's show to get to know each other better as people and come to an understanding. But until that time, I remain a Non-athoner, one of millions of people around the world who just don't understand why anyone would want to make their nipples bleed like that on purpose.
So when my husband came to me earlier this year and asked me to give him my blessing to train for the marathon, I said, "Aw hell, no."
Now before you jump on me for quashing a man's dream, let me tell you that I have no problem with him going to see movies without me on Friday nights. I don't question it if he wants to go out after work with friends. I am totally fine if he wants to go for a brief, normal-duration run on a Saturday or Sunday. Both days, even. But after five days of him working until 7:00 PM while I'm at home with the kids, I will not sign off on several Saturdays in a row of multiple-hour runs. I will not.
I think the marathon is a noble goal, but a selfish one. And if the person who insists on running the marathon is in a relationship, it requires the non-runner person to be a martyr. I'm just not that kind of girl. I am not going to sit there and pretend to look enthused about running shoes and workout mixes and personal bests and nipple saving tips (Why is the nipple thing the most fascinating part of the marathon?) I am not interested in sitting in a crowd of people (shudder) on Marathon Sunday just to watch for faces in the crowd.
Now, I know you've probably got your hands positioned over your keyboard as you read this, ready to tell me how I am a gross troll who rides a Hoveround (only half true) and who doesn't understand what kinds of miracles the marathon can work for people (except the first guy who ever ran one. He died, Jill). And that's fine. And maybe someday when I don't have two small children around the house preventing me from getting any work done and I don't long for Saturdays just so I'll be able to play a parenting man-to-man instead of a zone, I'll be OK with the mister running in the marathon.
Just don't ask me to be excited about it. Unless there are cocktails. Are there cocktails?
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