Cows and Horses and Wives, Oh My . . .
As many of you know, Blaine is a triathlete. That doesn't keep me from wanting/trying to swim, bike, run and hike with him. As long as we are swimming laps, running on a track or even recently roller-skating, it's all good. He is a captive audience. Any sport that he can pull away from me, like hiking or biking . . . not so good. While still in Tahoe we headed out for a six mile round trip hike to Ellis Peak. No biggie, right? Wrong. We didn't get to the trailhead until 4pm so immediately we are racing against sunset and immediately it is straight uphill and through the snow. Blaine was pushing me hard to go faster and even run when there was flat ground. I couldn’t even be grateful for the descents because I knew I would have to climb them on the way back. This hike tested our marriage. At one point I reminded him that I wasn't a cow and he couldn't herd me up the mountain. At another point I threatened not to ever go hiking with him again. (Not sure if he heard that because I hissed it under my breath). I would see him stop up ahead, take an unrushed drink of water, view the scenery, take a leak, take a pic or two and I would think “awesome, a break” but as soon as I got within 20 feet of him he would take off again. Then he would say, “just because you catch up to me, doesn’t mean you can slow down.” At THAT point his life was in danger. Had there been a cliff close by . . . I’m just saying . . .
Of course my brain knew (from my college psychology classes) that his demeanor was due to his fear of not getting us both to the top and back out before darkness set in. But still, he almost died that day and it wasn’t from a bear eating him or tripping on a tree root in the dark and cracking his head. Toward the end of the hike I broke down and asked the most dreaded question . . . “how much farther is it?” Blaine replied, “10 minutes, but I need it to be 7”. As it was, I didn’t get to see a single view or take a single pic and we didn’t make it out before dark. My phone was dead and Blaine was using his flashlight to get us out.
Fast forward to yesterday. Same kind of pushing me but this time we are on a bike ride in Hanford, CA. Blaine had to ride 30 miles, we both know I can ride 30 miles but not as fast as he wants to ride them. So we head out, I figure I’ll just ride the same 10 mile loop close to Alicyn’s house that I rode last time I was in town. I can do it once or twice or three times depending on how it’s going. But Blaine had other ideas. So I go dupe de do’ing along behind him at a whopping 16/17 mile an hour pace (into the wind and uphill, of course). I figure I can draft and it was fairly easy to keep up but like I said, Blaine had other ideas. He likes to either push me or he is trying to teach me that I can’t hang or he’s wanting so bad for me to be able to hang . . . I can’t really say for sure, but he moves to the left and points to his right, signaling me to come up along side of him. This means, no drafting for Shelia. I’m thinking in my head, because I can’t speak out loud at this pace, if he’s trying to see how long I can maintain this pace . . . we’ve reached it. Five miles, that’s it. Then at one point I ask the 2nd most dreaded question, “I thought you were going to pull away?” He replied, “Let’s go”. Eventually I fell back behind him. He holds out an apple in his right hand, a signal that I’m suppose to ride up beside him and take it from him and eat it. Only he doesn’t slow down so I have to try and speed up. I’m head down, low on my handlebars, peddling as fast as my little legs will carry me, not making any headway and he is just up ahead, holding out that damn apple and I yell at him, “I’m not a freaking horse, Blaine. You’re holding out that apple like it’s a carrot on a string. SLOW DOWN!!!” Then once I got the apple, I now have only one hand on the handlebars and of course I slow down, while up ahead Blaine decides to cut through a long line of cars waiting for the red light and then back through them again and across the intersection. The apple didn’t make it.
Disclaimer: No husbands were injured in the making of these stories but if he doesn’t quit confusing me with farm animals I can’t make any promises about his future.
