My Husband Does Not Look Like the Man I Married

January 08, 2010


I've known my husband since we were both 19-years-old. He was a cute guy with beautiful eyes, a sweet face and a just-needed-a-woman's-touch sense of style. But now, everything has changed. My cute guy is getting older. His hair is peppered with gray. He wears little rimless glasses. And his body just isn't what it used to be. I'm almost embarrassed when we go out because...he's never looked better.

Forty pounds lighter with a new and way improved body, my once chunky-around-the-middle hubby is no more. Now, he's a sexy, thirtysomething with the wisdom of age and the body of youth. I thought he was supposed to be getting bald and fat by now. I used to be the healthy one in the relationship who always worked out and kind of liked that I was in better shape than my guy. But now, he's Mr. Tight Abs and I'm still the same 'ol (okay, older) me.

Oh, sure, it was exciting at first to see my other half slimmed down to a college-guy size. It was delightful watching him buy clothes with ease and wonderful to witness him feeling good about himself. But then, he sorta stopped being fun. No more late night Ben & Jerry's pints to share. No more fries to steal off his plate (I haven't ordered fries in 19 years). And no more iced blended coffee drinks EVER! Even he was feeling a little deprived so he started running.

My husband doesn't do anything half-assed. His morning jogs turned into half-day runs. Before I knew it, ten miles was a quickie. He ran a half-marathon. Then a marathon. Then another. And there I was cheering him on from the sidelines with my double C-section belly as my own personal pom-pom, not to mention the other pom poms up top which could use their own cheering section.

Of course, I'm half-joking about being upset by the new man in my life. I love the fact that my husband takes care of himself and looks and feels great (Did I mention he can also eat almost anything nowadays?). But it's a bruise to the ego too. In addition to looking so fit, my husband has found a new passion with his running. We've traveled together to New York, London and all over California for his marathons. He has reached and then surpassed his goals and is hoping to make it into the Boston marathon soon. I feel envious of his personal achievements. No one slaps a medal around my neck when I complete a ten series of Bar Method classes. My kids don't get to see their mommy in any moments of glory. And like most moms I know, I haven't had the feeling of true accomplishment in a very long while.

So, as you might have guessed, I have decided to try a running challenge of my own despite the fact that I have never been a runner and used to get tired after five minutes of a jog. Thus, I won't be going for a marathon. I know better than to compete with my Type A-plus husband. I learned long ago to compete with myself. I'm going for a half-marathon next September. I started running three weeks ago and am up to 29 minutes. I'm slow as a turtle but I'm doing it. It's hard. It's uncomfortable. It's definitely out of my box. But that's exactly why I'm doing it.

Well that and maybe my pom poms will shake a little less!