There’s an advert on TV that I absolutely love. It’s for Heinz Beans, and features a runner who comes in from his latest session and bangs on about how he’s now going to drink a shake filled with all sorts of nutrients, and his wife looks at him and just says “We’re having beans.”
That is, in a nutshell, this house.
Carole is the runner. I am built for comfort, not speed. But one thing you learn living with someone who runs is that you have to be prepared, at a moment’s notice, to listen to something about running. Or how many steps they have gone. Or something. Always something.
And you have to make sacrifices as well.
I have been booted out of the couple’s bed tonight because Caz is running tomorrow. She’s running for the Stroke Association, so obviously it’s a cause quite close to our hearts. She was supposed to be running it on Mother’s Day but she decided that seeing our mother units was more important than raising money to help with Stroke rehabilitation and whatnot. I’m not sure it was. But anyway, she’s now doing it tomorrow.
Somewhere in York. Which, as of the time of writing, is currently under water which the organisers are sort of hoping will have drained away by tomorrow.
I’m not sure I want this people helping people with strokes. I mean, even if you’d had most of your mental faculties wiped out by a stroke, were eating through a tube directly into your stomach and couldn’t really string two words together you’d know that hoping a field is going to dry out overnight, while it’s raining, is probably a bit of a stretch.
But hey ho.
So yes, I have to sleep away from Carole because my snoring could wake the dead. And it’s very important that she gets a decent night’s sleep so that she’s at full strength tomorrow to wade around the course for ten kilometres. Or slide. Or whatever.
I’ve tried to encourage her to sack it off. We’ll still donate the money to the Stroke Association. That’s pretty much a given when you think of what they’ve done with my mum. But it makes more sense to sack it off given it sounds like its a ridiculously water-logged course – so a health and safety nightmare. I’d rather Caz didn’t slip arse over tit and break a limb. Because then we’ll have to enter into runs for broken limbs. It’s a vicious circle.
But also, if she sacks it off, I could sleep in the bed.
Instead of on the couch next to a 8ft long multi-coloured caterpillar.