There have been four times in our almost thirteen years together that I've truly hated John Wahlers. 1) He took me on a date to see Devil's Rejects, the latest and greatest (according to him) Rob Zombie movie. When you know you're girlfriend's favorite movie is Tommy Boy and she scares easily, why oh why would you take her to see Devil's Rejects? Please don't give him the excuse, well maybe he didn't know...he'd gone with a friend before taking me. Hate. 2) We went mountain bike riding. I told him I was exhausted and wanted to go back to the car after an hour of riding. He continued to take me up and down ridiculous hills until I finally stopped my bike at the bottom of one, remained silent when he shouted back to me, and waited until he turned around. Don't try to trick me Wahlers. I know you're taking the long way back to the car. Hate. 3) The fateful leaning Tower of Pisa picture that we never got. You know the pic I'm talking about - people pose looking as if they're holding up the tower with their hand or their foot or their finger or their head. We day-tripped to Pisa on our honeymoon, and as other couples cracked up taking pics, I started to strike my pose. When John failed to give me some photographic direction, I told him to go first so I could get an idea of what to do. To which he disgustingly replied, uh...I'm not doing that. Like could you be more of an idiot? Hate. And number four was added on Saturday night at the Capt'n Karls Nighttime Trail Run.
When someone dares, wagers, bets me, I can almost never say no. Even when I know I probably can't, I feel the need to try. Bet you can't chug a two liter of orange soda? I puked in the courtyard trashcan. Bet you couldn't go two minutes in a boxing ring? I jumped up, hit the timer, and started boxing John in our living room - it didn't end well. Bet you can't finish that bag of gummie bears in two minutes? I puked in the grass at our family's Fourth of July celebration. To his brother's entertainment, John and I have spent countless hours with our hands in buckets of ice water, scrunched down in wall-sits, etc. to determine who was the winner of whatever said bet. And while John almost always wins, I still find it necessary to give it a go. This past Saturday was another example of my inability to say no, and John's ability to rile me up.
After weeks of come-on-you-can-run-a-ten-K's, I finally said yes. And while I haven't run six miles since way before I was pregnant, John assured me that of course I could do it, and yes, it would be hot, but the course was not hilly but "technical" with "lots of switchbacks". Instead of saying what does that even mean?! I just nodded along. And sure enough on race night at 7:30 in 98 degree weather, I took off for my six miles. Pure misery. It was not a hilly course but instead just one long hill that I steadily climbed for about an hour and a half. I gave up running a little over a mile in and while hate filled my heart, I continued to climb and climb and climb. The other, experienced runners, were barrelling past me, and since the trail is about 3 feet wide, I spent the majority of my time walking along the side of the trail through the cacti. Hate. But a good reminder that while we enjoy doing most things together it's good to have some things that are just for ourselves.
Wanna bet I won't be trail racing again any time soon?
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