Monday, August 23, 2010


It's quiet in here. Crickets, that's all I hear. Literally and figuratively.

I'm all by myself in the house, for a little while at least.

My husband, you see, has decided that he needed to become an athlete in his mid 30's. He's never been one before and I'm not quite sure what the point is, especially given the fact that he really shouldn't be doing half the things he is doing.

I'm trying to be supportive, really I am.

He played tennis all summer, joined a league. His team made it to the state tournament. Though none of the kids had activities over the summer months (except Aidan's brief experience with baseball pre and post surgery), he did. I still found myself making dinner late, shuffling plans on the weekends, even delaying leaving for vacation. For tennis.

Then, all of a sudden, the season was over. I thought we'd catch a break, at least I hoped so. The kids will be starting church and scouts and soccer and everything else soon enough. Life will be scheduled and hectic again soon.

No break though. He's taken up a new sport. Running. Which is something that, again, he really shouldn't do. Don't get me wrong, I love that he's interested in his health and fitness. But you have to understand that there are valid reasons he isn't supposed to run, and he's well aware of them.

He went and signed up to run on a relay team for the Denver Marathon anyway.

So now, he is training. Which means he has to run on a regular basis, and the time spent running will inevitably increase as he gets closer.

I try to be supportive, really I do. I just worry about him, is all.

There is one thing I love about him running, though. He takes the kids with him. The older two ride bikes, the little ones sit in the jogging stroller.

And I get to stay home in peace and write and listen to crickets.

I guess it's not all bad.

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