We went to Pittsburgh the weekend before last. It was our first time there since my husband's grandma passed away, so we didn't have any family obligations this time. The only obligation we did have?
My husband ran the Pittsburgh Marathon.
Seriously. I can't even get over how fucking proud I am of him. Last July, he was at his heaviest weight ever (237 - and he's only 5'7") and he was feeling awful. So he went on a juice fast, started running, and within a couple months he'd shed over twenty pounds. And he fell in love with running all over again - not having done much of it since graduating high school, where he ran cross-country. So he signed up for the Pittsburgh Marathon.
It was a pain, him training for it. Running when I needed help with the kids, and me constantly having to think about what he should and should not be eating while making dinners. But it was all worth it in the end. It took him five and a half hours, but he finished every last step of the 26.2 miles. And he finished it 54 pounds lighter than he had been ten months ago.
I hate to run, but I love my husband.
Nobody ever suspects the butterfly
I mean nobody!
- The Burgh