Although I’ve tried to ignore it for years, to pretend all the signs weren’t right in front of my face, the truth is that my husband has another love. He might think I don’t notice how often he visits and talks about his love, or how many pictures he posts of them together, but I do notice. He’s even written poetry. Poetry! I’ve tried not to jump to conclusions, to be understanding and supportive, but could he be any more obvious?
My husband is in love with Rock Canyon. In any season, rain or snow, even if he’s tired from a long day at work, somehow he finds time for her. He goes on and on about how beautiful she is from any angle, how her features change depending on the time of day, how she calls to him when he’s stuck in his office. How can I even compete?
I thought maybe if I tried trail running up Rock Canyon with him, I could come to understand the attraction a little, or remind him of all that I have to offer. Not that I expect poetry or anything, but something, anything to indicate where his loyalties truly lie. So we gave it a shot.
I soon discovered that I hate her. Seriously, who would ever think it’s a good idea to run straight up a mountain? I’m not the only one who thinks that’s crazy, right? Plus, I think she exaggerated the initial incline just out of jealous spite, because my lungs were screaming after half a mile. Look at my red face! She did this to me!
Hiking is a perfectly legitimate form of exercise, right? That’s what I decided at this point. I walked the rest of the way and felt no shame in my defeat. I gave it a shot, but he can have her for all I care, just as long as I never have to run straight up a mountain again. He doesn’t seem to mind.
Let’s be honest here. I never stood a chance. To quote Pride and Prejudice yet again, “What are [wo]men to rocks and mountains?”