A Running Resentment

This is Stella. Yup, she's cute, playful, precious, snuggly, and full of puppy goodness. She also wakes up before 6 a.m. every day. A few weeks ago, when I was relishing the summer opportunity to sleep in as only a teacher can, that early wake up would have bothered me. Since then, however, I've made a renewed commitment to log my runs in the early a.m. and Stella now serves as the world's cutest alarm clock to make sure I get out the door at a decent time.

Except on the days that it's my husband's turn to run.

See, we've made a new agreement. He runs Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, and I run Tuesday and Thursday. (We flip-flop from week to week so it's fair.) Yesterday was the first day in way too long that the temperature was in the 60's at 6 a.m. Not to mention there was no humidity. I woke up, with windows wide open, breathed in the cool autumn-like breeze and felt a surge of excitement to don my running shoes. Then I remembered it wasn't "my day" to run. Grrrrrr. I probably could have handled it better if my husband was really into running and had logged as many miles as I have in the soul-sapping heat. But he hasn't. In fact, he was supposed to run that 10-mile race with me two weeks ago and bailed at the last minute because he never actually trained for it. Yet there he was, running the open road, in the best running weather we've had in months. I was pissed!

When he got back, I expressed my resentment by banging cabinet doors, huffing in response to his conversational attempts, and rolling my eyes as much as possible. When he asked what was wrong, I replied "Nothing!" I was staring at the gaping abyss of a ruined day when it dawned on me that his car was still in the shop, forcing him to leave later for work that day. I asked if he'd be around for another hour or so. The affirmative response was barely out of his mouth before I had my running clothes on and was out the door.

I felt the tension start to fade immediately. I was smiling by the first quarter mile and on cloud nine by the time I came home.

Ruined day? Saved. Marriage? Still good.