9:24 am August 9, 2009ULCER,
So Jon is a stud. Or an idiot — depending on how you look at it. (I prefer to think of him as a stud… it makes me want to nag him less.) He broke his rib a couple of weeks back during a rousing game of office basketball. I didn’t mention it before because if I were to report every injury my accident-prone husband incurs, when he incurs it, that would be my blog. Its title would be “The World According to Suz: My husband tries really hard to break himself all the time”.
Anyhoo, he has a broken rib. To go along with his faulty heart, and his permanently crooked finger (broken twice, both in Turkey Bowls), and his Bowler’s Knee, and his sore IT band, and his skin cancer, and his fake swine flu, and his stuffy sinuses… am I forgetting anything?
So of course when the ULCER bike race came around again this year, he registered immediately. U.L.C.E.R. stands for Utah Lake Century Epic Ride. Because any time you have a broken rib, you want to break it more by doing something epic !
Whatever. I don’t get it. Men are weird. (Any time you can’t decide on “stud” or “idiot”, it’s always safe to defer to “weird”.)
While he was registering online, I reminded him that after last year’s epic ride he told me never to let him do ULCER again.
“Remember how bad you hated it last year?”
“Yeah.” But he continued to type in his name and address.
“Remember how you said for me to never let you do that again?”
“Yeah.” But he typed in the Amex number for the registration fee anyway.
“Remember how you have a broken rib?”
“Yeah, but it’s not so bad.” And he hits the Submit Registration button.
“Babe,” he says closing his laptop and grimacing, “can you go get me a drink? My rib hurts too bad to get up right now.”
“Sure, stud.”
And that is when I washed my hands of his epic desire to kill himself by being physically fit.
So yesterday he showed up at 6:30am at the starting line with his co-workers (not the ones who broke his rib… different ones… ones that could potentially injure him with bicycles traveling at high velocities). Their team name? “Say Hi to your mom”. Epic-ly juvenile. (But I still giggled the first time I heard it.) He had his stash of GU packets and nasty electrolite water and energy jelly things… and pain killers. About half way into the ride (the 111 mile ride, in case you didn’t get what the “century” part of the ride was) his broken rib started hurting. Which, y’know, odd. I don’t know why that would be. So he popped a pain killer. And then I guess that’s when the swerving really commenced. I wasn’t there to see it. Or nag him.
Nope, I was at the finish line. To cheer him. And take pictures. And call him a stud. And have mixed feelings of both pride for him and a desire to beat the crap out of him.
And he kissed me. And the kids cheered and hugged him.
And last night as we were lying in bed, watching Star Trek re-runs, I refilled his ice-packs and brought him food and drinks and listened as he moaned.
“Dude, do NOT let me do that again next year.”
“Yep.”
“I’m SERIOUS.”
“Ok, stud.”
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Wow, Jon’s a stud. So, how many miles is epic ulcer bike ride? He really is Jack Bauer.
Comment by shahara — August 9, 2009 @ 10:02 am
111 miles.
Comment by SuzyG — August 9, 2009 @ 11:09 am
incredible!
and what a supportive wifey you are. ;-D
xoxo
Comment by jenica — August 9, 2009 @ 12:46 pm
Marriage is freaking hard. How do men ever live without us?
Comment by stephanie (bad mom) — August 9, 2009 @ 4:04 pm
You crack me up! Thats a great little story about your man, and SO well told.
Comment by Dorothy — August 10, 2009 @ 10:19 am