I did something this weekend that I’ve never done before. Something I never thought I would want to do. Something that had anyone suggested it to me, I would have shied away in revulsion. How about no? Never. Ain’t gonna happen, no thank you. But yet, there I was.

I exercised with my partner.

When he suggested we go running together on Saturday night, I was a little apprehensive. What if I couldn’t keep up with him? Or worse! What if he couldn’t keep up with me (not that I thought he was incapable, but he doesn’t run on a regular basis)? What if he sees me all red faced and sweaty as HELL and is like “Um, actually, just kidding, I totally made a mistake. Have a nice life?”

And you know, it was fun. He pushed me harder than I probably would have pushed myself, opting to attempt week 2 of Couch to 5K, when I most likely would have pussied out and repeated week 1. It was a good run; we found a route that works really nicely for the amount of time I usually head out. And cleaning up together after wasn’t bad either.

It’s just … really nice to have someone around who’s supportive and challenges me. Even though maybe I don’t want to be challenged. He’s interested in how my fitness journey is going and helps hold me accountable. And sometimes it’s hard for me to accept. I have a really hard time talking to him about getting fit and eating right and all that shit, and it has nothing to do with him. I can babble for hours here and on Twitter about exercising and eating right (or not!) like it ain’t no thing, but when he brings it up, I kind of have to fight the urge to bolt. I think this comes from my past of casual sex; I would NEVER talk about this stuff with someone I was just casually seeing, and I’m REALLY not used sharing these details of my life with a man and that’s a hell of an adjustment. But definitely one I’m happy to make.

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