Recently, my husband, Neal, and I decided we wanted to ride our bikes around Fayetteville Lake. Sounded nice. A pleasant afternoon together, peddling along, enjoying nature. Or at least that is what I had in mind.
We loaded our bikes, helmets, water bottles, and got in the car. Then Neal turned to me with this huge, aggressive smile. He waggled his eyebrows and down and he said, “Ready to put on some miles?”
Then I got it. Mr. Testosterone had a goal. To eat up as many miles as he could and put the proverbial notch of achievement on his scorecard. Meantime, me, Mrs. Estrogen, wanted to see nature, smell the perfumed air, feel the breeze on her face, smile at passersby – hey, maybe even stop and strike up a conversation. Pat a few puppies on the head.
When we arrived at the park and geared up. I told Mr. T to go on and try to beat his record. After a quick peck on the cheek, he sped off in a flash.
I peddled at my leisure, savored the honeysuckle and wild rose fragranced breeze, admired splashes of purple, white, pink, and yellow on green fields. Lizards raced across the path, turtles retreated in their shells. I smiled at the people jogging past me and felt sorry for them because they all had ear-buds in their ears and missed the music lustfully given by the choirs of birds above us.
Neal streaked past me and I had to smile. He’d just gone six miles and was working on his next six. To each his or her own. Neal had a blast conquering the road. I had a blast letting the path take me where it wanted and showing off all the sights that surrounded it.
All in all, we had a very good time even though we approached our outing very differently. After years of marriage Neal and I understand and appreciate our differences instead of expecting the other to conform to the our preferences. And that makes for good days indeed!