A Change of Heart

Sometimes Our Own Self-Absorption Cuts Us Off From What’s Truly Important.

have often wondered how other couples handle their relationship when both

of them run and one is more talented and accomplished than the other. Does it depend on temperament established as a child, or does the natural competition involved in running bring out the worst between two runners?

This question was never a problem in my 23-year relationship with my husband until five years ago when I found that a simple change in shoes had ended my 20-year running drought. I was sure my IT band would never allow me to run again. Then one day, I was told there was a running star who worked at our local running shop who might be able to help.

That same day I went to see John, bought some new shoes, almost broke some speed limits going home, and that night ran five miles on a treadmill that, until that day, I had never set foot upon. What a joy that was! I was off—into the gym, on the trails, meeting new running buddies, feeling fantastic. Until the decision to try a marathon, that is. And that is where this story truly begins.

Like many new runners, I considered myself to be pretty good, and I had the demeanor and attitude of a religious convert. I ran as often as I could, frequently pushing myself as hard as I could for days at a time. I got to be what I considered fast, especially when I didn’t measure myself against the truly talented people at my club.

So, after six months of constant training, I got ready to enter my first race—a half-marathon. Yes, that’s right: not a 5K or a 10K but a half.

Keep in mind that I really did think I was invincible. Truth be told, the race was much more difficult than I had thought it would be, and without the support of another runner to encourage me in the final miles, I am pretty sure I would have walked. But I finished in 1:50, and one of the really fast guys at my club who was there said: “Hey, that’s a pretty good time for your first half. What’s next?”

THE CURSE OF A GOOD IDEA

Then it came to me, like a bolt from above: I would run a marathon. How hard could it be, after all? I had just finished a half, right? It’s only a mere half over

that, right? Oh, how I deceived myself, and how life would get much more complicated over the next few years because of that decision.

I couldn’t wait to tell my husband and my kids about my decision to run a marathon. This was my new thing, the thing that would set me apart and make me more than a wife and mother—which, at that time, I felt was not sufficient.

The reaction I got from my husband was not exactly what I had expected. “Great idea, honey. I’ve always wanted to run a marathon, too!”

What?

He was taking my idea and stealing it!

Worse than that, he was really good, and that would mean any effort I made would be small and of no significance at all. Well, we both started to train for the Portland Marathon. At Portland, I finished in 4:07 while he hurt his leg and could not finish. Secretly—although I truly was sorry for him after all his training—I felt like I was queen of the hill again and he would give up while I would go on to run more marathons alone.

Not exactly the nicest or kindest attitude. I guess I should have known better, knowing my husband’s competitive and determined nature, that this failure would just make him 100 percent more determined to complete a marathon.

Flash forward four years. Because of recurring digestive problems, flexor strength issues, and hamstring weakness, I have dropped out of running completely, and my husband has just continued to get stronger and faster. He has run Boston twice (a truly bitter pill for me to swallow) and Las Vegas, Seattle, and Portland numerous times.

We have now become a marathon family, as we make plans regarding where we will vacation based on where my husband will run a marathon. We looked on www.marathonguide.com and determined that the San Juan Islands Marathon looked beautiful and would be a great place to vacation.

I reluctantly agreed, as always, and prepared to be what I considered the cheerleader spouse.

“So what brings you to the San Juan Islands Marathon, Mrs. Hersh?”

“Oh, my husband is running the marathon.”

“Oh really? That is so wonderful. What an amazing thing to do!”

“Um hmm,” I agree, wanting to shout: “Hey! I used to run them, too!”

COULD THAT HAVE BEEN ME?

I look back now and can’t believe how selfish I was and how awful I must have sounded. So we drive the six or so hours up the coast of Washington to Anacortes and board the ferry for San Juan Island.

I cannot believe how beautiful the islands are and how peaceful it all seems. Beneath it all, though, the green-eyed monster continues to gnaw at me.