My Wife (Sham)Rocks

Throughout the (almost) 9 years we've been together, I've told Catch repeatedly that I. DO. NOT. RUN.  It's kinda been a thing.  I would even get annoyed if we were out walking the dogs and she would get them all excited and run down the block with them.  What the hell, woman?  I told you–no running. 

Yeah, I'm terrible.


Someting cosmic exploded and set into motion a chain of events that have lead me to running.  I can't explain it.  It just sort of happened.

Catch has been so supportive of my endeavors, and I find it SO ironic that it's now HER telling ME, "You know I'm never gonna run with you, right?"

I've had an itch for a month or so that I wanted to sign up for a 5k.  Trouble is that all of our March weekends are booked, and moving into April… well, I'm not really sure how much running I want to be doing during two week waits and all.  I didn't want to commit to anything.

Cut to Monday.  Saint Patrick's Day.  I come home from work to this:

Photo 1

It's a registration table.  Complete with t-shirts and sweatbands. 

Photo 2

And with the treadmill…

Photo 4

Upon completion of my 3.1 miles on the treadmill, I was given a strand of light-up shamrock beads as a medal.

My wife truly freaking (sham)rocks.  The whole thing was so cute it's ridiculous.


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