Something You Should Know About My Wife

Ladies and gentleman, this is Kristi.

This is Kristi on the last leg of a 50-mile run through the Grand Canyon. I think I was wrapped in blankets and watching reruns of The Wonder Years on Netflix when this picture was taken. Kristi is a badass. When she's not putting on her badassery clinic, she is smoking hot.

Actually, that's her doing a velociraptor impression. Wrong picture.

Ahh, that's better. And, just so she doesn't get pissed at me...

she's really smart, too. 

Two days ago, Kristi and I ran the St. George Marathon. We had been training for four months--doing a long run of about 15 miles every week during that time period. We survived by listening to books-on-tape and timing our runs around TNT action movie marathons. Believe me--there's nothing like watching Terminator II with the sound off. Or The Matrix. Or Backdraft. Or Terminator II again.

But we slogged through it to qualify for the Boston Marathon. I should put that in all caps and throw an exclamation point at the end, like this: THE BOSTON MARATHON! because THE BOSTON MARATHON! is nothing but a crazy party for runners. Imagine a bunch of fit people discussing the pros and cons of Gu vs. Clif gel packets. Imagine a race with distractions like screaming coeds giving out free kisses and dudes handing out beer. That is THE BOSTON MARATHON!

To qualify, Kristi had to run the St. George Marathon in 3 hours and 35 minutes. We felt good when we started the race. It was cold, but the wind was blowing against our backs, and the first seven miles were downhill. However, miles 7-13 were like ascending the freaking Agro-Crag (for all you GUTS fans). Remember when a kid would be climbing the Agro-Crag, and he would keep going even after the bell rang? The announcer would be like, "Okay, it's over!" but the kid would just keep climbing even though he knew a Glowing Piece of the Radical Rock was not waiting for him at the top?

Kristi is like that kid. She knew she wasn't going to make her time at mile 19. She tried to run with her pacer, but the pacer slowly pulled ahead, then disappeared in the distance. Her dad called me and told me she wasn't going to make it. I figured she would walk the rest of the way, because having finished the race myself, I knew how crazy-difficult and crazy-painful the last seven miles were. I figured she might quit. That's what I would have done. You work for four months to run a certain time--so when you know you're not going to make it, what's the point of trying? It's devastating.

But she didn't quit. She ran her legs into the ground. It stopped being about the time, and started being about "I'm not gonna let this course kick my ass". She came in only six minutes off her goal time.

If she would have met her goal, I would have been proud of her. I expected that. But I did not expect her to keep pushing herself even when her goal was out of sight. That says something about her. I respect her for it. The girl's got GUTS.