Day 94: Jillian

He said; “Just get it, we can do it together.”

I said; “I dunno…” in a mumbly sort of way. I’m thumbing through workout DVDs at Target, trying to think of a reason to spend the twenty bucks in my pocket on Pringles and Soda. Something believable, so he’ll agree and I won’t feel like a work-out loser who hasn’t been to the gym in over a month. But I have nothing to say and so I cave to the pressure and buy this piece of disk and plastic that promises huge results in 30 days. Whatever.

Jillian Michaels is the stuff of nightmares. We’ve been at this for ten days now. Each morning, after a dozen greedy gulps of coffee, we’re working out. Things like walk-out pushups and military presses with leg extensions. And I don’t have hand weights and I don’t want any, so I’ve got a can of diced tomatoes (family size) in one hand and Old Fashioned Oats in the other.   I grunt my way through this routine and collapse at the end, where even the cool down stretching feels like work. 

Isn't marriage just like that dreaded work out?  A lifetime of military presses and going through the routine of living together.  Sometimes a little bit dull.  Sometimes so honest and brutal you ask the bedroom walls what was I thinking?  But just like the shadow of definition I can see on my forearms and the beginnings of a quadracep, marriage - and love- is about repetition and sticking with it.  Today I am picking up the pace.  I am compromising like never before and I'm toning up our marriage- diced tomatoes and all.