In true Christmas fashion, Runner Boy (as I like to call him) made out like a bandit for Christmas. Almost every gift I got him was revolved around running.
Every year, I go out in search of the coolest running gift. I remember about 6 years ago when the gsp Garmin watches were first coming out, I bought Walt one. In all seriousness, I watched as tears rolled down his eyes as he looked at his new “toy”. He was like Matthew when Matthew turned 5 and got a Game Boy. Matthew sat on the couch all day and played with his Game Boy. Walt, 6 years ago, sat in front of the computer, hooking up the gps Garmin.
Flash forward 6 years and Walt still has this sentimental side for the Garmins.
In my quest to buy him a superior running gift, I walked into North Face to find him a pair of running pants. I know NOTHING about running pants. I have no clue how many pairs Walt has, the purpose of each pair or the material they are made out of. And each year, I look for a pair that has an entire rap sheet of their material make-up and the kinds of weather you should wear the pants.
So I bought Walt a pair of Wind protection pants. At $125, I figure they would protect him during the strongest of wind storms.
As I walked up the checkout counter, I glance in the case and I see, as pretty as could be, the newest Garmin watch. I noticed the price and thought “Seriously?”, but I knew Walt would not expect it and he would love it.
This morning, Runner Boy opened up his gifts.
1. A Gait Analysis from Clint Verran. Only a “strange” runner person would know what this is. Basically, you get on this treadmill that is all hooked up to computers and it will analyze your gait. Really? Heck, Walt was beyond excited.
2. A Boston training schedule by Clint Verran. Again, only a runner person would even know who Clint Verran is, but he is a physical therapist about 40 minutes from us who is a crazy runner guy and treats crazy runners. He will create a program/schedule for your runner person. Let’s say you want to run a marathon in so much time, he will create a program so you can do that.
Well, Walt kind of knew he was going to get it, so no surprise factor there.
3. North Face wind pants. Walt has been checking Weather.com in anticipation of wearing his pants.
4. New Garmin gps where it will actually download your information via wireless stuff. It is also waterproof so if the windstorm turns into a hurricane, Walt is all set.
Needless to say, Walt was in his glory. His parents also got him a gift certificate for Running Fit. He was like a kid with a Toys R Us gift card…already plotting his next purchase.
As every Christmas morning, after the kids open presents, Walt will go for his run. This year, since there is no snow, he said it just wasn’t the same. But in my eyes it was. I can read my husband like a book. He is a creature of habit and his habit is all about running.
Merry Christmas!!
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
It really is available?
Yesterday when I was on the phone with Walt, who happens to be out of town for work, I told him that I started my blog. I had mentioned to him last week that I was going to do it and he thought it was a great idea. He knows I like to write and knows how damn funny I can be and knowing that he was pretty much going to be the brunt of my jokes, he was still on board.
While on the phone, I proceeded to tell Walt that next time he goes out of town, he needs to sit down with the cats and explain to them in their language that he was indeed not going to be home which meant, NO ONE would be getting up at 5:00 am to feed them.
We have 3 cats in our home. Bob is the old guy (15 1/2), Henry is the dainty one (4 1/2) and Jack, is part dog and will be 3 on Christmas. During the week Walt feeds the cats. Most mornings, he sets his alarm anywhere from 5 am to 6am to get up and run (shocker). And every morning, 3 cats are on the bed, walking all over in anticipation of their early riser breakfast. If Walt's alarm is not set, the cats are still on the bed walking around, meowing in our faces or knocking stuff off of the nightstands. Bob will walk over to me and literally climb on my back and lay down and purr. Henry will begin, on the floor, at one side of the bed and proceed to gallop across the bed onto the floor on the other side. Henry will do this until you get up. Jack, well, he will jump on a dresser or a night stand will knock things off in order for one to get up. Every morning...unless Walt sets the alarm and beats the cats to the punch. And every morning when he does not set his alarm and the circus act begins, I swing my foot over, kick Walt and say "feed the cats". I sometimes wonder if this blog should be about my cats for sometimes they are just as funny as Walt.
So yesterday as I lay in bed, so comfy to have it all to myself (usually when Walt is out of town at least one kid crawls in without fail), I could feel movement on the bed. "Are you kidding me? It is 5am!" And so it began all the while I am thinking "Walt why do you have to run so fricking early in the morning? Look at what you have done to these cats. They are now Pavlov's dogs."
So in my tired ass way, I feed the cats at 5:30 am, grab a cup of coffee and begin my journey as a running widow.
Now back to the phone call... So after I rant to Walt about the cat escapade, I tell him my blog has been born.
Walt: "Good for you. I can't wait to read it. What did you end up naming it?"
Leslie: "The Running Widow." I was thinking to myself that the name "I have to have a glass of wine to get through the rest of the day" might be too long.
Walt: "Wow, that name was still available? I am surprised."
Leslie: Pause...pause...pause..."Yes Walt, I am the only one crazy enough to write about her husband's running."
While on the phone, I proceeded to tell Walt that next time he goes out of town, he needs to sit down with the cats and explain to them in their language that he was indeed not going to be home which meant, NO ONE would be getting up at 5:00 am to feed them.
We have 3 cats in our home. Bob is the old guy (15 1/2), Henry is the dainty one (4 1/2) and Jack, is part dog and will be 3 on Christmas. During the week Walt feeds the cats. Most mornings, he sets his alarm anywhere from 5 am to 6am to get up and run (shocker). And every morning, 3 cats are on the bed, walking all over in anticipation of their early riser breakfast. If Walt's alarm is not set, the cats are still on the bed walking around, meowing in our faces or knocking stuff off of the nightstands. Bob will walk over to me and literally climb on my back and lay down and purr. Henry will begin, on the floor, at one side of the bed and proceed to gallop across the bed onto the floor on the other side. Henry will do this until you get up. Jack, well, he will jump on a dresser or a night stand will knock things off in order for one to get up. Every morning...unless Walt sets the alarm and beats the cats to the punch. And every morning when he does not set his alarm and the circus act begins, I swing my foot over, kick Walt and say "feed the cats". I sometimes wonder if this blog should be about my cats for sometimes they are just as funny as Walt.
So yesterday as I lay in bed, so comfy to have it all to myself (usually when Walt is out of town at least one kid crawls in without fail), I could feel movement on the bed. "Are you kidding me? It is 5am!" And so it began all the while I am thinking "Walt why do you have to run so fricking early in the morning? Look at what you have done to these cats. They are now Pavlov's dogs."
So in my tired ass way, I feed the cats at 5:30 am, grab a cup of coffee and begin my journey as a running widow.
Now back to the phone call... So after I rant to Walt about the cat escapade, I tell him my blog has been born.
Walt: "Good for you. I can't wait to read it. What did you end up naming it?"
Leslie: "The Running Widow." I was thinking to myself that the name "I have to have a glass of wine to get through the rest of the day" might be too long.
Walt: "Wow, that name was still available? I am surprised."
Leslie: Pause...pause...pause..."Yes Walt, I am the only one crazy enough to write about her husband's running."
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Forest sets out for his first official marathon.
As I was growing up, I set goals. I always believed if you set your mind to it, you can achieve it. I put my mind to many obstacles in my life, gave myself adequate time to achieve my goals and then set a plan for my next goal.
Walt, on the other hand, who was now running a lot, never got the memo on setting small goals and then building up to a larger goal. After 2 months of running, and remember, this is a man who never ran in his life and the most cardio he ever got was running from his car into the Powerhouse Gym in a dodgy area, had decided he was going to run a marathon in October, which was 4 months from then. Seriously? Ok, that is fine. Run your little heart out.
And that he did. From the onset, Walt put together a plan to train for his first marathon which was only 4 months away. I honestly, don't recall his specific regimen but from an early start, but I knew he was serious about it when he would say at the bar on a Friday night "I need to get to bed so I can run in the morning". Really? You have the whole day to run.
The moment, I knew he was serious about this marathon, was in July 1998, we were up north with our friends, Chris and Ed. Now, as any Michigander knows, when you use the words "up north for the weekend", it is really code word for "party time". Our first night consisted of several rounds of shot guns, of which I excused myself to the bathroom to puke and come back and finish the round, because no way would I go down for the count. And the night finished with a round of Challenge Chug Yahtzee, of which I don't remember how that ended. But what I do remember, the following painful morning, was Walt lacing up his shoes to go for a run. Are you kidding me? I thought I might need a saline drip and here was Walt, lacing up his shoes.
Now we were up north where there were no sidewalks, just wide open wilderness and Walt was going to take off into the wild blue yonder and run. How the hell would he be able to "gps" his route?
As Chris, Ed and I sat on the porch and watched Walt run and listened to the pounding in our heads, I knew, his man was serious. I recall him making a few laps and as he ran by, the peanut gallery would chant "Run Forest Run". As I would see Walt run by I would think to myself "he is crazy" but better he than me. I had no desire to go and exercise for just the sheer fact that I was overly dehydrated from the massive amounts of beer I consumed the night before, the dehydration sucked in my stomach enough, that I felt ok to put on a bathing suit. No running for me. You just keep running Forest all the way to your first marathon...
And on October , 1998, Walt ran his first marathon in . He crossed the finish line in a pair of cotton shorts and a "Cabo Wabo" t-shirt I was very proud. He did it! But the words he uttered as we walked back to the car, as he was wrapped in tin foil, would haunt him until this day. His comment would almost become his nemesis for I remind him every day; he has become his own worst nemesis. As Walt looked around, at all of the real runners, the people who wore aerodynamic shorts and shirts made of certain material that would allow your skin to breathe as well as protect it from the wind, who wore shoes that you had to buy at a running store and shock absorbing socks, Walt's very own words would become his own self-fulfilling prophecy. "Runners are so weird". Well, guess what Walt? YOU are a runner and YOU are weird!
Walt, on the other hand, who was now running a lot, never got the memo on setting small goals and then building up to a larger goal. After 2 months of running, and remember, this is a man who never ran in his life and the most cardio he ever got was running from his car into the Powerhouse Gym in a dodgy area, had decided he was going to run a marathon in October, which was 4 months from then. Seriously? Ok, that is fine. Run your little heart out.
And that he did. From the onset, Walt put together a plan to train for his first marathon which was only 4 months away. I honestly, don't recall his specific regimen but from an early start, but I knew he was serious about it when he would say at the bar on a Friday night "I need to get to bed so I can run in the morning". Really? You have the whole day to run.
The moment, I knew he was serious about this marathon, was in July 1998, we were up north with our friends, Chris and Ed. Now, as any Michigander knows, when you use the words "up north for the weekend", it is really code word for "party time". Our first night consisted of several rounds of shot guns, of which I excused myself to the bathroom to puke and come back and finish the round, because no way would I go down for the count. And the night finished with a round of Challenge Chug Yahtzee, of which I don't remember how that ended. But what I do remember, the following painful morning, was Walt lacing up his shoes to go for a run. Are you kidding me? I thought I might need a saline drip and here was Walt, lacing up his shoes.
Now we were up north where there were no sidewalks, just wide open wilderness and Walt was going to take off into the wild blue yonder and run. How the hell would he be able to "gps" his route?
As Chris, Ed and I sat on the porch and watched Walt run and listened to the pounding in our heads, I knew, his man was serious. I recall him making a few laps and as he ran by, the peanut gallery would chant "Run Forest Run". As I would see Walt run by I would think to myself "he is crazy" but better he than me. I had no desire to go and exercise for just the sheer fact that I was overly dehydrated from the massive amounts of beer I consumed the night before, the dehydration sucked in my stomach enough, that I felt ok to put on a bathing suit. No running for me. You just keep running Forest all the way to your first marathon...
And on October , 1998, Walt ran his first marathon in . He crossed the finish line in a pair of cotton shorts and a "Cabo Wabo" t-shirt I was very proud. He did it! But the words he uttered as we walked back to the car, as he was wrapped in tin foil, would haunt him until this day. His comment would almost become his nemesis for I remind him every day; he has become his own worst nemesis. As Walt looked around, at all of the real runners, the people who wore aerodynamic shorts and shirts made of certain material that would allow your skin to breathe as well as protect it from the wind, who wore shoes that you had to buy at a running store and shock absorbing socks, Walt's very own words would become his own self-fulfilling prophecy. "Runners are so weird". Well, guess what Walt? YOU are a runner and YOU are weird!
I saw the signs early....
After that faithful day in April of 1998 when Walt and I went for our first run, we ran around the block. I knew at that point, I hated running, but the weather was nice and it was actually fun to run with Walt. I had more cardio stamina than he did so that alone drove me to run a little bit faster than him.
As the weeks went on, we would go out for a run every few days. There were times that we would not run together but we both ran, nonetheless. But the funny thing, is when Walt would go for a run by himself, he would come into the house, grab his keys and tell me he would be right back. I assumed he was going over to 7-Eleven for a Slurpee and hoped he grabbed me a cherry/coke mix. But he would come back in about 10 minutes later, toss his keys down and move about the rest of his day. Hmmmm.....where was he going?
I would guess that Walt and I were running about a month and a half when on a Saturday afternoon, after a 7 mile run, of which I almost died (I still hated running), when we got back home Walt grabbed his keys and said "come on, let's to see how far we ran?" Are you kidding me? All I could think about was prying off my shoes, grabbing a beer and taking a nap (after I drank the beer and Walt wanted to go "GPS" his running route. I decided to go, for we needed to pick up some more beer at 7-Eleven anyways, and as that day in April changed my life, this little road trip, also would change my life and my life as a runner.
As Walt pressed the little button on his odometer to set it to zero, he drove around our neighborhood, vividly remembering he ran to make sure he accounted for every stride. I on the other hand, glanced over at him wondering "why are you sucking the fun out of this?" and realized Walt had changed. Walt was no longer the Jersey Shore guido who lifted weights and put them down. He was taking this running far more serious than I ever wanted to and at that moment, I remember looking at him and saying "I am done running with you. You just sucked all of the fun out of this." And that is the day when I became a "running widow".
As the weeks went on, we would go out for a run every few days. There were times that we would not run together but we both ran, nonetheless. But the funny thing, is when Walt would go for a run by himself, he would come into the house, grab his keys and tell me he would be right back. I assumed he was going over to 7-Eleven for a Slurpee and hoped he grabbed me a cherry/coke mix. But he would come back in about 10 minutes later, toss his keys down and move about the rest of his day. Hmmmm.....where was he going?
I would guess that Walt and I were running about a month and a half when on a Saturday afternoon, after a 7 mile run, of which I almost died (I still hated running), when we got back home Walt grabbed his keys and said "come on, let's to see how far we ran?" Are you kidding me? All I could think about was prying off my shoes, grabbing a beer and taking a nap (after I drank the beer and Walt wanted to go "GPS" his running route. I decided to go, for we needed to pick up some more beer at 7-Eleven anyways, and as that day in April changed my life, this little road trip, also would change my life and my life as a runner.
As Walt pressed the little button on his odometer to set it to zero, he drove around our neighborhood, vividly remembering he ran to make sure he accounted for every stride. I on the other hand, glanced over at him wondering "why are you sucking the fun out of this?" and realized Walt had changed. Walt was no longer the Jersey Shore guido who lifted weights and put them down. He was taking this running far more serious than I ever wanted to and at that moment, I remember looking at him and saying "I am done running with you. You just sucked all of the fun out of this." And that is the day when I became a "running widow".
How it all started...
I get a kick out of standing next to Walt when we are around someone new who just learns that Walt is a crazy runner. The conversation always starts off with "So Walt, I assume you were a runner when you were younger". I usually stand there, looking like the spouse of a celebrity on the red carpet, where no one has any idea her name, as her husband is getting interviewed by the press as the crowd gathers around to hear tales of Walt lettering in cross country 4 times in high school. The funny thing is that I am the reason he started running. No, not to get away from my ocd of having a clean house, but it was my idea that afternoon in April of 1998 to go for a run. The run that would change my life forever.
It all began on a spring day in April of 1998. I had always been involved in fitness my whole life from being a cheerleader in grade school to dancing and being on pom pom in high school. After high school while I was in college, I started taking aerobic classes which led to me becoming certified as an aerobic teacher and teaching classes. Down the road, I decided to become a personal trainer, all while working full time as a paralegal downtown. I had the mindset that, cardio was just as important as weight lifting. Then Walt walks into my life.
Walt enjoyed working out as well, but at Powerhouse with the guidos. Walt, who is designed just like his father, is tall and thin but when I met him, he was a "muscle head". His arms had veins that were so protruding that it made Popeye look like Wimpy.
When we started dating, I assumed his large biceps were from pulling a bow and arrow, for every single guy I dated seriously, was a hunter. When Walt told me he didn't hunt or had never hunted, I assumed his large muscle mass was from steering his boat. When he told me, it wasn't from steering his boat; I knew this guy could not have grown up in Michigan. A guy who doesn't hunt, drive a boat, has never been to Mackinac or had never been up north, well, there had to be more to the story.
And there was. Walt was a Jersey boy. Grew up here in Michigan until 5th grade, moved to Jersey, went to College in Connecticut and moved back to the mitten state when his parents moved back, where he would start law school.
We met, fell in love, got engaged, bought a house and got married!
Then came that day in April when I said to Walt, after we both got home from work, "let's go for a run. You need to get some cardio in your workout". And so it began....
It all began on a spring day in April of 1998. I had always been involved in fitness my whole life from being a cheerleader in grade school to dancing and being on pom pom in high school. After high school while I was in college, I started taking aerobic classes which led to me becoming certified as an aerobic teacher and teaching classes. Down the road, I decided to become a personal trainer, all while working full time as a paralegal downtown. I had the mindset that, cardio was just as important as weight lifting. Then Walt walks into my life.
Walt enjoyed working out as well, but at Powerhouse with the guidos. Walt, who is designed just like his father, is tall and thin but when I met him, he was a "muscle head". His arms had veins that were so protruding that it made Popeye look like Wimpy.
When we started dating, I assumed his large biceps were from pulling a bow and arrow, for every single guy I dated seriously, was a hunter. When Walt told me he didn't hunt or had never hunted, I assumed his large muscle mass was from steering his boat. When he told me, it wasn't from steering his boat; I knew this guy could not have grown up in Michigan. A guy who doesn't hunt, drive a boat, has never been to Mackinac or had never been up north, well, there had to be more to the story.
And there was. Walt was a Jersey boy. Grew up here in Michigan until 5th grade, moved to Jersey, went to College in Connecticut and moved back to the mitten state when his parents moved back, where he would start law school.
We met, fell in love, got engaged, bought a house and got married!
Then came that day in April when I said to Walt, after we both got home from work, "let's go for a run. You need to get some cardio in your workout". And so it began....
Why a blog about my husband who is a runner?
I have always felt that I was a generous person with my time and talents. I am not very crafty although I try to be at least on Shutterfly, but where I lack in creativity on the gift giving front, I make up for in empathy.
My husband is a crazy runner. And the funny thing is he does not deny it. His running has pretty much set the pace for our marriage, our family and our life. Our days revolve around him deciding whether he will do a short run (4-6 miles) or if he will be gone for a few hours on a Saturday morning, which can also become longer, if he meets his "running friends" at Starbucks. Sometimes he even brings me back a coffee. Lucky me!
But along with Walt's obsessive desire to run like the wind, come some of the funniest behaviors that I sometimes need to pause and ask myself "Did he just do that". So I have been able to empathize with the spouses that are married to crazy runners. I wanted to let them know "you are not alone". I too have a Kenyan wannabe in the midst of my life and so understand. Thus, the creation of this blog because sometimes you just can't make stuff up.
My husband is a crazy runner. And the funny thing is he does not deny it. His running has pretty much set the pace for our marriage, our family and our life. Our days revolve around him deciding whether he will do a short run (4-6 miles) or if he will be gone for a few hours on a Saturday morning, which can also become longer, if he meets his "running friends" at Starbucks. Sometimes he even brings me back a coffee. Lucky me!
But along with Walt's obsessive desire to run like the wind, come some of the funniest behaviors that I sometimes need to pause and ask myself "Did he just do that". So I have been able to empathize with the spouses that are married to crazy runners. I wanted to let them know "you are not alone". I too have a Kenyan wannabe in the midst of my life and so understand. Thus, the creation of this blog because sometimes you just can't make stuff up.
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