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:
It's a registration table. Complete with t-shirts and sweatbands.
And with the treadmill…
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.