Mary Ellen doesn’t trust me in these tough times to take all the precautions necessary to stay safe. She watches me like a hawk to be sure I wash my hands after getting the mail, monitors how much news I watch (so I don’t get depressed), and urges me to get enough exercise. I’m on a pretty short leash.
Actually, when it comes to exercise, I need to be on a very long leash, because when we go for our daily brisk walk, Mary Ellen walks faster than I do. Much faster.
I hadn’t thought much about this before the current crisis, but I’ve always known she was a fast walker. Come to think of it, if I hadn’t broken into a full gallop down the aisle the day we got married, she’d have beaten me to the altar by several noses.
There’s a somewhat demeaning aspect in this shared workout. When we take a walk around the block, I sometimes ask Mary Ellen to loop back and around me so she doesn’t get too far ahead. A grown man should not be yelling to his wife, “Wait up!” an expression I haven’t used since junior high school.
Sometimes when she gets way in front, I hide behind a shrub to see if she’ll turn around to see where I am. This is not a good idea. In a neighborhood with small children, lurking behind foliage is frowned upon.
What makes this so humiliating is that I have always been a good athlete. I played center field on my high school baseball team and also ran track. I prided myself on my speed. One thing was sure: I never had anything to do with girls who were fast. Hmmm…I probably should rewrite that sentence.
My wife is not an athlete and never claimed to be. When Mary Ellen runs, she doesn’t even bend her legs at the knees. She looks a recruit in the Third Reich.
So I can’t figure out how she walks faster. Let’s see…her legs are longer than mine. And wait, she moves them back and forth faster than I do. Okay, I just figured it out. But it doesn’t make me feel any better.
The great irony in this is that one of the reasons I was attracted to my wife 41 years ago was her long, slender legs. This is exactly how men get themselves in trouble. When I saw those lovely limbs, my mind turned to romance, but I should have realized she’d be walking ahead of me for the next several decades. I knew I was marrying a woman who was smarter. But faster? That wasn’t the plan.
This past week, we decided to split up so I wouldn’t slow her down. Now we go in opposite directions around our block. It’s great. No matter how leisurely I walk, we pass each other at exactly the same time.
I know that was an incredibly stupid thing to say. But don’t try to explain it to me. It should be obvious how slow I am.
