I'm not an only child. I have an older brother. He is 2 years older than me. We were in high school and college together. So how I got to this point in my life, I'm not sure. Here's my confession: I don't share.
How does this relate to running at all? Well, today I had to share my ice cold zipfizz with my husband.
Today's run was supremely hot; it was tough from the first mile. I had been running with a water bottle and was wearing my Camel. In this heat, my Camel will only last me about 8 miles and we had 15 to get through today. I refill the water bottle until I only have 8 miles left, and then toss it out and start lightening the load on my back. It's not a bad plan, until you have to alter it.
My husband was struggling today and at one point said he was dizzy and on the verge of throwing up. So we took a break at a picnic table so he could cool down. I offered up a sip of my yet-to-be touched zipfizz. And he took one long swig. And then another. And I started to silently tally the number of extra miles I was going to have to continue drinking hot, dirt tasting water. But he needed the liquid and I wanted to do whatever he needed to start feeling better. When he took the third drink, why did I feel so irritated about the whole thing? It's not like he purposely started feeling bad just so he could trick me out of my zipfizz. And I must remember, I am the one that offered it up--how effed up is my head?!
How does this relate to running at all? Well, today I had to share my ice cold zipfizz with my husband.
Today's run was supremely hot; it was tough from the first mile. I had been running with a water bottle and was wearing my Camel. In this heat, my Camel will only last me about 8 miles and we had 15 to get through today. I refill the water bottle until I only have 8 miles left, and then toss it out and start lightening the load on my back. It's not a bad plan, until you have to alter it.
My husband was struggling today and at one point said he was dizzy and on the verge of throwing up. So we took a break at a picnic table so he could cool down. I offered up a sip of my yet-to-be touched zipfizz. And he took one long swig. And then another. And I started to silently tally the number of extra miles I was going to have to continue drinking hot, dirt tasting water. But he needed the liquid and I wanted to do whatever he needed to start feeling better. When he took the third drink, why did I feel so irritated about the whole thing? It's not like he purposely started feeling bad just so he could trick me out of my zipfizz. And I must remember, I am the one that offered it up--how effed up is my head?!
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