Tale of the Scale: 5/8 Comfortable

Guido and I repeated an old talk today. We haven't played this game in a while; I rather missed it but welcomed it's absence at the time. It was another round of "Do What I Say, Not What I Do.."

Remember the two of us are very much alike; we know how the other thinks and exactly how to push some key buttons. There has to be a lot of respect in this kind of relationship as it's way too easy to twist the knife. Fortunately, we know that.

We each tend to watch out for the other one a little more than we do ourself, especially when it comes to work and rest. We know the drive (competitiveness? stubbornness?) that motivates us both and we both feel a small need to be the voice of reason for the other.

He is the voice in my head when I'm carrying 50# bags of manure the day after a major upper body workout: "So, Deb, what exactly do you think the term 'rest day' means? Cause it sure doesn't mean this!"

And when he walks with a little hitch in his giddy-up (I am so showing my age when I use that phrase, but isn't it a perfect way to describe a sore hammie??), I'm the one asking: how many hours did you play basketball yesterday? And you're playing today again, too? Do you think your youth is a substitute for rest?

The first time we went this circle was over a year ago. It took us about 2 weeks to realize that we were arguing the same point from both sides. I'd argue that he needed to let an injury heal, but I was fine working hard just weeks after surgery. Well you can imagine his stand. Yes, we are also focused in our arguments. I mean 2 weeks to notice that similarity?

We've come to recognize the pattern a lot quicker (duh, we learn!). A few sentences exchanged and we're laughing and joking about it.

Well, except for the time that I so frustrated him he wanted me to bean him with a 12# hand weight just to put him out of his misery. But I really, really wanted a workout with him and didn't care that I threw out my right shoulder and pulled my left quad a little. If I could ignore those things, why couldn't he?

Head. Weight. It might have been a good idea.

I also blog at: A Stitch In Time throughout the week and BlogHer on Mondays and Saturdays.