Living with a runner

I’ve been running for about 5 years now and thought I’d pay homage to my long suffering husband for putting up with my strange running habits. From getting up in the dark, running in the rain and many hours at the gym he’s been there through it all. He doesn’t even understand running when there’s a perfectly good mountain bike sitting idle in the garage. I dedicate this article to all non-running partners…

It’s 7am in February when my alarm pierces the blissful silence but it feels the middle of the night. I get out of bed as quietly as possible and tip toe into the spare room where all I laid out all of my running gear the night before. I close the door and switch on the light to get dressed – hoping I have forgotten something and have to go back into the bedroom.

Grabbing my sports drink from the fridge and slinking into my jacket and shoes, wincing at the noise of it all, I creep out of the front door. I think I’ve been really quiet but in reality he’s been awake since the alarm went off and I could have been as noisy as I wanted.

The sun is just lighting up the sky by the time I’m ready to make my first step and I’m still groggy from sleep. After walking for 5 mins to the start of the run, I go through a few simple stretches nodding to the dog walker who look at me like I’ve just landed from another planet. And then I’m off and it all seems worthwhile, in a blissful state of running I keep an eye on the time and my pace and before too long I’m back at my house.

Trying to unlock and close the front door without making too much noise is impossible in our house, so if Mr R got any sleep while I was out, he’s surely awake again now. Muddy shoes dumped by the front door I quietly mount the creaking stairs. If I’m lucky he’ll ask me how the run has been and I can tell him all about the deer I saw and the robin singing from the tree but he doesn’t stir so either he’s fed up and faking sleep or he is actually managed to get back to sleep. 30 mins later I’m stretched and showered and have to fire up the hair dryer – I bought because it said it was quiet – oh dear, now he’s surely awake. I bring breakfast and a cup of tea to bed for him and hope he’s not too grumpy with me.

Then it’s off to work with that glow that comes from starting the day off the best way you possibly can tinged with the guilt of doing something just for me at the expense of his sleep. I then make a mental note to remember to get my running kit ready for tomorrows run and do it all over again.

 

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