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Week 21: The National Strike that Made Me Fall in Love With My Wife All Over Again

This week is going to be an abbreviated version, as I’m feeling a bit under the weather

Couch to Ultramarathon

The countdown is on.

The training block is almost done.

This is the final week of big miles.

And I’m sitting on the couch feeling sorry for myself (I’m a bad sick person) after registering a big, fat “0” on a day which is supposed to be my hardest run of the week.

A few months ago, I’d have been much more concerned.

But now I realize that one run over the course of six months isn’t going to chance my result very much.

Because if I’m not ready now, it’s unlikely I will be in less than a month.

Here’s the thing however; I know what the last half a year has meant.

I know the time spent out there sweating, learning, growing, getting stronger and faster.

I know who I am.

And because my preparation has been pretty good, I can afford a couple days being sick.

Authentic confidence comes from having put in the work, and unfortunately there are no shortcuts.

But I am also learning there is no feeling like it.

Philosophical Dad Stuff

My wife and I went out to dinner last Friday. By ourselves.

No party. No event. Not even friends to join us.

While I love all those things, it was glorious. The two-hour wait at the bar for a table was good time to chat and catch up. Maybe this happens to all parents, but when you have a kid or multiple kids, your communication becomes much more transactional.

We stop having those conversations like we did when dating, or before kids even.

You know the ones.

The ones about ambition, future plans, goals, objectives, and aspirations beyond the daily checklists.

Over the course of dinner, we discussed the year that was. Triumphs and setbacks. Challenges and funny moments. Learning opportunities and checks to the ego.

It reminded me of earlier this year on our 10^th anniversary trip and the national strike in France that ground it to a halt.

After a glorious week in Switzerland, my wife and I found nothing but closed doors and shifting plans upon arrival to Paris.

Naturally, our mood turned impatient and restless as time ticked short on our vacation. We’d had a great time visiting family and eating all the cheese, but as time was running low our minds were already turning back to work, kids, and the driver-side brake light still being out on the car.

On our final day, public transit, museums and everything else in between opened back up and allowed us to hit our entire agenda.

That night, we ate our first dinner of the week for just the two of us in a Parisian bistro. Rain fell on the patio windows while cigarette smoke from neighboring tables wafted over. We talked of our beginnings, our lives in between, and of course our wonderful children.

We reflected on good times and bad. The times that made us stronger and the times we long to return to.

It occurred to me that while I am certainly not impoverished, I am rich where it counts.

My life is full of love and laughter and learning.

Good trips are meant to break us from our routines so we may see more clearly what we already have.

As I celebrated 40 years of life on this Earth and 10 years of marriage with my wife, I was overcome with humble gratitude.

And along with it, the inescapable feeling that we’ve only just begun.

Live triumphantly. See you next week.