Mommy Wants a Timeout

In which I contemplate absurd moments in parenthood, occasionally attempt to refer to myself as a “triathlete” while keeping a straight face, and maybe post some random pictures of stuff I’m knitting

Triathletes…And The Husbands Who Love Them

“I really think we should go with the sleeveless wetsuits so it’s easier to put our inflatable water wings on.” This was the two cents my husband put in when he had determined I was, in fact, committed to my goal of completing a triathlon, and he was sort of committed to maybe training for one, too (as long as the swim was really short.)

We bought the wetsuits, and despite learning that no inflatable anythings would be allowed on a triathlon course, he was right there with me a few months later when we plunged into the unseasonably cold water of Blue Lake for our first practice open-water swim. (If I recall correctly, he was right there afterwards, too, to point out that no one else was near the water that day, which should have been our first clue that only crazy people would swim in water that cold.)

That was the beginning of my “Summer of Tri”, and his summer of “I Tried, I Finished It, and Don’t Ever Ask Me To Do That Again.” I became hooked on triathlon training, and he decided triathlons would be much more fun if they took away the swimming and running parts. So I’m a triathlete, and he’s not, and that’s settled, right?

Except lately, I get the feeling he thinks I’m taking it too far. It’s like he thinks I’m cheating on him with my training…I run off at all hours for workouts, leaving him at home with the kid, and I’m ready for bed (to sleep, mind you) ridiculously early in the evening. I start gushing about the great swim workout I had that morning, and he gets this faraway look in his eyes, and I’m positive he’s thinking about the last episode of Game of Thrones instead of what I’m saying…He just doesn’t want to know the details of my affair.

So how do I convince him I still love him more than any mere sporting event, and though I’m definitely committed to my new, fitter lifestyle, I’m just as committed to our evening CSI marathons and excessive ice cream consumption? And does he know how grateful I am for talking me down from a nervous breakdown when I didn’t think I could ever swim in an open lake, for helping me learn to change a flat tire on my bike, and for being there when I crossed the finish line for the first time?

Maybe we need a romantic getaway, a weekend in a nice hotel somewhere, with good restaurants, nice scenery…We could go for long walks on the beach, and talk about all the fun stuff we used to do on weekends when we didn’t have to make time for my workouts. We could reconnect, and I could reassure him of my love and fidelity.

Also, it would be great if the hotel had a pool, too…You know, so I could get in a few laps in before breakfast?

My awesome husband, who can also call himself a triathlete.


Single Post Navigation

2 thoughts on “Triathletes…And The Husbands Who Love Them

  1. I saw a license plate frame on the way home tonight and thought of you. The top read “Tri Mom” and the bottom, “swim bike run.” Training is tough for everyone. I think it’s great that Imran went through it once. You’re doing an amazing thing, Marty!

    • Thanks, Bryanne! My husband is actually really into cycling, so he’s a great help on bike stuff (my weakest link, by far!) He’s still swimming some, but he HATES to run, otherwise he’d probably be up for another tri someday.
      I was thinking of putting a swim/bike/run bumper sticker on my car, but despite 4 triathlons under my belt, I still feel kind of like a wannabe. I wonder when that will wear off?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: