M is an athlete. A swimmer.
I'm not an athlete. I write. And I speak. And I cause problems.
But, because she swims, I run.
Her body is lean and lovely and tan.
Even when running and lifting weights, I'm trim and fit, but certainly not muscled.
I enjoy running. The clarity it brings. The focus required to do it well.
You can't just pick up and run a half marathon or a marathon.
You have to prepare. To have a long-term focus.
That's what I like about it. The focus. The looking beyond where I will be tomorrow or even next week.
Race day brings excitement. An opportunity to put your training to the test. Will you be faster than last time? Will you comfortably address challenges of weather or unforeseen obstacles? Will you stay on pace, or get carried away and lose focus?
Because I run, I understand her swimming. Sometimes, she runs with me. Sometimes, I swim with her. But truly, we enjoy our solitary pursuits. And I recognize she is a true athlete. I'm a bit of a hobbyist.
The pleasures we enjoy are simple ones. Physical exertion in our young, able bodies. A good meal on Sundays. Reading. Teaching. Looking ahead from this point, there is little else we need.
Will we grow into the mature, established leaders of this mission? Will we be the ones who introduce the new, young couple to the community around us? Will we show them the room in the gym that will be theirs until the apartment is available ... until we've moved to a house outside the city to begin our semi-retirement?
Or, will we see bumps and detours that take us away from what is for now sheer bliss?
In either case, she swims. I run. We meet after showers. A quick meal, some reading, and lovemaking before bed and another day of the same sweet, simple existence.
