See Dan (and Me) Run

On Saturday mornings, my husband Dan and I jog together on a greenbelt path near our neighborhood. I used to be a lone runner, not wanting to share my me-time with anyone, but I have come to appreciate this new routine. I discovered that, even though I enjoy me-time every once in a while, I also enjoy Dan-and-me-time. Dan doesn't talk much anyway, so when I really want me-time during our morning jogs, I say, "I won't be talking to you. This is my me-time." He is fine with that. In fact, sometimes I even get a "Yes!" with a fist pump out of him.

I am not sure if this Saturday custom of ours is quite as pleasurable for Dan as it is for me. Dan is the only person I know who finishes a workout and acts like he has just had an entire mouthful of teeth pulled.

“Didn’t that feel great?” I ask him every week after our run.

By this time, I am usually bouncing around the trail head parking lot. Jogging has the same effect on me as five cups of extremely strong coffee, and I am talking about European coffee, not the weak American stuff.

“It was okay,” he replies in a low monotone.

He is the only person I know who gets a “runner’s low” rather than a “runner’s high.”

“Doesn’t it make you feel good?” I ask.

“No. It makes me feel tired.”

Here is an example of our typical morning jog. I am sure you will be as baffled as I at Dan's lack of post-run enthusiasm when it is obvious how much fun we have together on these weekly jaunts.

Me: “Did you lock the car door?”
Dan (perhaps with a sigh or a roll of the eyes): "Yes."
After our run, Dan unlocks the car door with his keyless entry.
Me (teasing): “You didn’t lock the door after all!"
Dan: (No reaction.)
Me: "Ha ha! I made a funny.”

One weekend, we saw a young couple running. The man was pushing a stroller. The woman was running behind him.

Me: “That will be us if we ever have kids. You will push the stroller, and I will run behind you.”
Dan: "You always say we won't have kids though, so I guess I don't have to worry about that."

Another weekend, we passed a middle-aged, white-haired man walking a gargantuan dog with hair as white as his owner's. On our way back to the car, we passed him again. He was only a little ways from where we had first seen him.

Me (a little too loudly): “That’s only as far as he’s gone?”

Our morning runs occasionally spark interesting discussions on various social issues. These conversations are often times one-sided. Translation: I chatter to myself incessantly.

Upon seeing a sign in a resident's yard that reads, "No spray zone: Owner maintained," I suggest that we post one in the cracks of our driveway.

Me: "Then no one will spray near our house. People do that all the time. Sometimes they even spray our driveway! Like we don't take care of our weeds or something."

Dan points out the controversial no biking zone on north side of the Boise River every time we reach that part of the path.

Me: “They should just lift the ban. It would encourage alternate transportation, and those rich people should want to promote greener living.”

I always end this particular type of conversation with: “Are we just too liberal for Idaho? Do you think we’d feel conservative if we lived in Portland or Seattle?”

Dan (mumbling): "I dunno."

We usually end our jogs with Dan making an observation like: "People are friendly on the greenbelt.”
Me (again, a little too loudly): “Yeah, I have to say to myself, ‘Don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact!’ It's annoying how everyone wants you to say hi to them.”
Dan: “I thought that’s what people like about Boise, that it's friendly and safe. It's better than having to worry about getting shot.”
Me: "That's a comforting thought."

Finally he decides to talk, and that's what comes out of his mouth.

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