Hi, there. Remember me? I'm the one you promised oh-so-many-year-ago to love and cherish for all eternity. And I don't remember there being an exception made for Ironman years. Maybe you whispered that part.
I know that crossing that finish line takes an incredible amount of hard work. And I admire that effort; you know I do. You have inspired me with your ability to come home from work and do a five-hour ride on the trainer because it's getting too dark to do it on the road. I am in awe of your discipline. I could use some of that myself.
But do you really think about what your family is sacrificing to get you to that finish line? And I mean, Really. Think. About. It. We've given up any free time with you; when you are around, you're so beat from working out that you're really not there anyway. A family trip to Europe would have been lovely this year. But that money got spent on gear and coaching and massages and physical therapy and Gatorade. (Remind me to buy their stock next year.) That's ok. I've been able to use the time we would have spent on vacation to do all the chores that need doing around here, because you're too busy to help out anymore. Working, cooking a nutritious dinner every night, keeping the house clean and in good repair, paying the bills, showing up at all the kids' activities, and hiring babysitters so I can at least go out with the girls keeps me busy. And it keeps my mind off the fact that an Ironman is too busy and tired for sex.
I know I sound mad. Really, I try not to be. But I feel very taken for granted. Maybe you could think about showing some love for what your Ironman widow puts up with. Maybe your buddies here will have some suggestions. Or maybe they could use some ideas themselves. (You know, I might just be YOUR IronWidow.) Or maybe they'll just feel sorry for you and be glad I'm not their spouse. If so, I hope they can refrain from mentioning it; I'm having a bad day, and I don't think I could take it. Besides, I think I probably speak for most Ironman widows when I say that I AM proud of my Ironman; you are a rare and special kind of person. But you know, so am I. So am I.
I know that crossing that finish line takes an incredible amount of hard work. And I admire that effort; you know I do. You have inspired me with your ability to come home from work and do a five-hour ride on the trainer because it's getting too dark to do it on the road. I am in awe of your discipline. I could use some of that myself.
But do you really think about what your family is sacrificing to get you to that finish line? And I mean, Really. Think. About. It. We've given up any free time with you; when you are around, you're so beat from working out that you're really not there anyway. A family trip to Europe would have been lovely this year. But that money got spent on gear and coaching and massages and physical therapy and Gatorade. (Remind me to buy their stock next year.) That's ok. I've been able to use the time we would have spent on vacation to do all the chores that need doing around here, because you're too busy to help out anymore. Working, cooking a nutritious dinner every night, keeping the house clean and in good repair, paying the bills, showing up at all the kids' activities, and hiring babysitters so I can at least go out with the girls keeps me busy. And it keeps my mind off the fact that an Ironman is too busy and tired for sex.
I know I sound mad. Really, I try not to be. But I feel very taken for granted. Maybe you could think about showing some love for what your Ironman widow puts up with. Maybe your buddies here will have some suggestions. Or maybe they could use some ideas themselves. (You know, I might just be YOUR IronWidow.) Or maybe they'll just feel sorry for you and be glad I'm not their spouse. If so, I hope they can refrain from mentioning it; I'm having a bad day, and I don't think I could take it. Besides, I think I probably speak for most Ironman widows when I say that I AM proud of my Ironman; you are a rare and special kind of person. But you know, so am I. So am I.