'Tis The Season

'Tis the season...



It is definitely the time of year that weeks go by and you realize there are still things to do on your to-do list from a month ago that you still haven't gotten around to doing.

Brad and I celebrated our very FIRST anniversary two weeks ago and I had this really cool idea for a post that I just let slip away from my mind. So you get this instead :) Our gift to ourselves was the trip to Napa so we took it pretty easy on the day of and spent the Sunday as we normally do -- Brad studying for finals, me napping and grocery shopping. It was bliss. It was also our last week of training for our first half marathon, so we tried our best to run, eat right and rest...

Speaking of marriage and half marathons, on the long four-hour, leg-stiffening, constantly-hungry-because-my-metabolism-is-high drive, I thought about some seemingly obvious correlations of the two. During any sort of training program for long-distance running, there are ups and downs, highs and lows, points where you're on top of the world and those where you could really just lie down and let someone bury you six feet under. First year of marriage? Just the same. You start training thinking that it will all be no big deal. You'll start out kind of slow (like getting used to each other's potentially-annoying habits) with some strength and conditioning along the way (I compare this to Bible study and counseling, if present). All week long, you prepare yourself for your weekend long runs; in marriage, you're constantly preparing for something difficult...you've got to learn to get through the small battles to endure the large ones. You set out to conquer your long run with doubt, but surprisingly feel the runner's "high" when it's all said and done. Sound familiar, married friends? This continues until your short runs become the same length as your long runs started out and your long runs are just ridiculously long. In a marriage, you begin to realize that the other has certain habits that drive you crazy at first, but you eventually come to expect. Those more trying times become a thing of the past as you learn more about each other everyday.

And then there's race day. You wake up early, eat an energizing breakfast and then start realizing that you just got up two hours before the gun goes off so you can torture yourself for 13.1 miles. You reach the starting line with 20,000 other people doing the exact same thing you are and the adrenaline starts pumping. The gun fires. The runners cheer. 14 minutes later, you actually cross the starting line and begin your journey. Lookers-on are yelling for you by name, encouraging you, guarding streets and lining the path. Families are out early on a cold, foggy morning to root for thousands of strangers because they know the encouragement is a necessity. The hill at mile 4 just about kills you before you realize, "hey, it's over and now I have a little relief." There are pit stops along the way in case you need refreshment. Before you know it, mile 11 is upon you and the my-knees-and-hips-and-ankles-are-really-hurting-so-bad-I-think-I-might-have-to-stop thoughts begin to loom. You shake it off and they return. But you can't stop now. You're TWO MILES away from the finish line. When you actually get there, you breathe, you stretch, you try to stay on both feet because perhaps your glucose level is low (thank you, Jelly Belly Sports Beans) and you're greeted with a Finisher Medal and t-shirt. And then there's beer (that I did not consumer because the mere thought of it was nauseating) and water and fruit and bagels and free chiropractic adjustments and photographers snapping pictures. It's over and you hurt and you have a quarter-sized blister on your foot and you smell really badly and then you think, "that was awesome! Let's do it again next year." Stupid. I mean, really?

And marriage? Yeah, pretty much the exact same thing. There's the excitement of being a wife. There are people congratulating you and giving you words of wisdom. Then comes the hill at month 4; you spent how much on what? You mean you didn't know the dirty hamper had a purpose? And that dishes can, in fact, go into the dishwasher and not camp out in the sink all night? And then you start to not care as much because you get a random card in the mail or phone call from a friend. You feel the pain of the first big fight. And then you get some refreshment; hear just the right sermon at church or a friend or parent says just the right thing and everything's back to normal. You learn to lean on each other and talk and fight fairly and compromise, for Heaven's sake, because both of you can't be right every time (!). Then you look up, the first year's out of the way, you breathe a sigh of thanksgiving and think to yourself, "I can't wait to do this again next year!"