Because it requires of me super-human amounts of self-control which I do not have to NOT go for class at the studio, and since I’m still nursing that twinge of pain which occasionally attacks me under my shoulder blade, I arranged to go running with my husband yesterday instead.
If there’s one thing I’ve realised about the man over the years, it’s that he is absolutely literal about plans. If you say it, he’ll unfailingly assume you mean it and hold you accountable for your actions, including doing whatever he can to help you make them happen. Unless you say otherwise, of course.
So when I told him we’d go running, I knew there would be no way for me to wiggle out of it once we got home from work. But the mind is a funny little thing. Mine is, anyway. It likes to test my resolve the minute I commit to anything.
On the bus going home, I suddenly felt drowsy. Wouldn’t it be great to lie down and take a nap instead of running?
The husband, sensing some resistance manifesting, smirked.
Then I started sneezing. Are you sure you’re feeling healthy and energetic enough to run? Wouldn’t it be wiser to rest instead?
And of course there was the annoying crick in my knee from the previous day that I haven’t shaken off yet. Wouldn’t pounding it by running turn it into something much worse?
“You sure you can run?” goaded the husband knowingly.
Ignoring the reverse psychology, I silently changed into my gear.
Ten minutes into our run, I was feeling pretty triumphant for even stepping out of the house when he remarked, “Wow, running at this speed, it’s like we’re old people!”
Whatever, dude. 4 kilometers is 4 kilometers, whether you do it in 10 minutes or 30! Hmph!!