“What are you doing today?” John asks me each morning.
Now, in the average household, when one partner asks the other what she is doing, this typically results in a response about the totality of the day’s scheduled events.
In the two-athlete household, this question only means one thing: What’s your workout?
There are other idiosyncrasies to the two-athlete household.
The laundry. Oh. Em. Gee. The laundry. Even though there are only two of us, we manage to produce a Brady Bunch sized volume of laundry. This is complicated by the fact that there is a forcefield surrounding the laundry that makes it incredibly difficult to push through and get the clothes into the washer (me), or to fold the laundry (him).
Recently, we’ve had to institute a plan for managing the laundry. Otherwise, the dirty pile, along with the piles of clean, unfolded laundry, will swallow us whole. Tragic. We live in constant fear of being eaten by the Laundry Zombies. They are real. Don’t mess with them.
Then, there are the negotiations, mostly centering around food and gear.
Leftovers are an infrequent happenstance in our family. And, at times, John and I have been known to “negotiate” over who gets the last piece of food. Sometimes, this ends in fork stabbings. It gets ugly, people, and I’m not responsible for what my stomach makes me do. #justsayin’
Gear negotiations most often center around race wheels and mp3 players. One time only, John suggested perhaps he might use my power meter. I gave him a fierce stink eye that burned a whole in his flesh. It may seem extreme, but it was necessary.
Race wheels are pricey, and John has a set. Sometimes I want to use his front race wheel. When we aren’t racing together, this is no problem. But, when we are, negotiations must ensue regarding for whom this race is most important. Now that he’s moved to ultrarunning for this year, I have happily decided the race wheels are mine. Mine. Mine. MINE.
John goes #hulksmash on mp3 players, and they don’t always hold up so well. To be fair to him, this is usually because I am as cheap as the day is long and the quality of the ones I buy aren’t so great. But, when his breaks, this leads him to borrow mine. Sometimes, I need it at the same time. Negotiations ensue.
Recently, this problem has been solved by our new Road Noise vests (review coming soon), which allow him to use his phone as his mp3 player. There has been much rejoicing over this latest musical development.
Then, there are the romantic moments.
Perhaps we toast recovery drinks, or we engage in synchronized napping, with the added bonus of surround sound snoring.
Maybe we have a passionate discussion about training plans and heart rate zones, followed by cuddling our bikes.
One of my favorite romantic moments is racing together. I especially love it when he waits for me at the finish line. That’s how I know he cares.
You know, the typical stuff.
This will be the first year that John and I won’t be doing the majority of our races together. I’m on my own Kona journey, and he’s chasing the 100 mile belt buckle.
I know I will miss racing “together”. But, we’ll get to share a different experience, as we trade off racing and sherpa duties. So far this year, we’ve each taken a turn. John perfected his sherpa duties when I raced the Bone Island Triathlon. And, I rocked the gear holding, food managing, hand clapping, cheer hooting duties of head sherpa when he went on to 3rd place glory at the Feb Apple 50 miler. (If you pester him on Twitter, he might write a race report. That’s how we got the Kona report.)
So, I guess this year won’t be so different after all. If you’ll excuse me, I have to throw a load of laundry in the washer.
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Are you in a two-athlete household? How do you manage the craziness? If your partner isn’t an athlete, how do they deal with your insanity?
