He didn’t run the day I moved in. Instead, we bought tuna steaks and grilled them with fresh pineapple in the park behind the house. “Wow,” I thought, “this is going to be great.” But the next day, after he came home from work, he laced up his sneakers and I didn’t see him again for an hour and a half. Then the next day, he put on his shoes and went out again. And on the third day, when I realized this probably wasn’t a phase, I asked him, “So you run every day?” Almost reluctantly, the man who would become my husband said, “Well, yeah, it’s what I do.” And, save for when he was sick or recuperating from another race, he’s run every day since for the past 10 years.
For better or worse, running has the ability to define a relationship. In the Washington area, where, regardless of the weather, you’ll always find runners pounding the trails or circling the National Mall, you can often see couples running together, maybe even pushing a jogging stroller to boot. For some, running can be a bonding experience, providing countless training hours and racecourses to be shared.