A Supportive Wife

Martin decided to ride 100 miles this past weekend in the Castle Crags Century Ride…And I was there to be the best supportive wife ever. 

We left Friday after work, and after some horrific traffic, we managed to get out of the city and onto the open road of I-5 before I completely lost it.  Running slightly behind our intended schedule (to be in Shasta before 9pm to pick up Martin’s race packet), we admitted defeat and stopped for gas, groceries and dinner at the Brown Bear Diner in Redding.  Martin was excited and bought a mug to commemorate our elegant meal of salad and grilled cheese.

We arrived at the house after dark and unpacked quickly so Martin could get his much needed beauty sleep; he wanted to wake up at 4:30am to prepare for the day and ensure he was ready for the 6:30 start.  Being the loving wife, I put myself on alarm duty so Martin could have a sound sleep with earplugs in and without fear of missing the morning call…the noise of the train and river would keep any sane person awake without them.  I was willing to make the sacrifice.

He thankfully woke to the alarm without issue and I awoke shortly thereafter to my 5:10 alarm to drive him to the start.   We made it to check in by 5:30am and after a good luck kiss, I was back in bed by 6am for a few additional hours of sleep to make up for the night before. 

After my second sleep, followed by a morning of yoga and solo brunch in Shasta City, I headed back to Shasta City Park (both the start and finish line) to wait for Martin and properly celebrate his personal feat! He arrived around 2:30, sweaty, salty and smiling.  He quickly scarfed down a burrito, pepsi and all remaining food he had on him, enjoyed a chair massage compliments of the race organizers and we set off for home to relax the rest of the afternoon.  Surprisingly he wanted to relax on the deck with a few cold beers before dinner, and I was happy to oblige.  And on our walk to dinner, I even offered him a piggyback ride down the 50 stairs to save his tired legs from any additional strain…true to form, he declined, noting his legs weren’t that tired.

We enjoyed a fantastic dinner at Café Maddelena on the patio with a perfect combination of food, wine, beer and ambiance.  We even splurged on dessert to make the moment last a little longer.  And once again to my surprise, Martin wanted to stay up for once last beer at home before heading to bed. I was exhausted and passed.

The next morning I drove home with a tired but satisfied Martin riding in the passenger seat.  And I was able to feel great about my own performance as the supportive wife.

What is Wrong With Me

I have officially come to enjoy the art of the gym.  This may be the start of something big.

Back in college, I prided myself on having never gone to the gym.  In fact it was only recently that I went back to my college campus and stepped inside the place (not to work out, mind you, but rather for a recruiting event that was taking place in the main hall).

But it appears that my aversion has turned into an addiction.  I truly love it. 

The whole experience began reluctantly and not without fighting, when Martin mentioned he wanted to spend some quality time together going to the gym.  I was immediately insulted, figuring the request was insinuating that I needed to go to the gym (similar to Dana and my deal that if we ever really need to lose weight the next present to the other would be a gym membership). I went begrudgingly though, once or twice a month and, according to Martin, never enough or with enough heart… I constantly complained and found excuses not to go.

After about six months of off and on weekly gym nights, we discovered a class we both enjoyed going to – BodyPump (the modern day jazzercise) – and things, including my mood, started to improve.  And then shortly thereafter, we introduced dinners out after our work out and I found I was beginning to enjoy myself.  After sweating out the days’ frustrations and gaining some evening energy, we would shower and meet up outside the Y for our walk to dinner and then home, each week trying out a new restaurant! Going to the gym had turned from an act of punishment to the perfect date night, each of us getting a little bit of what we love: Martin some exercise and me some good food.

Somewhere along the way, and in addition to our date nights, I picked up Pilates on Saturday mornings (a little me time before the weekend truly began) and then all of a sudden yoga showed up on Monday and/or Tuesday mornings without any prompting.  Pretty soon I found myself booking classes when traveling (two days of Pilates in NYC and a Saturday morning in Shasta) and I am even researching a yoga retreat for September (although it must include good food and wine).

So it is now easy to admit, although I would have never believed it otherwise, I have come to enjoy working out.  I still can’t touch my toes and haven’t lost any meaningful weight, but at least I am being healthier. I even turned down free wine at work last Wednesday so I could go to the gym that night….What is wrong with me and who have I become!