Joel and I have a history of doing romantic things on Valentine's Day. I remember it was on this day in 2005 that we signed up for a gym membership in Texas and had our body fat measurements taken when we came up with a fitness plan with the gym's trainer. Nothing says, "I love you, Honey" like pinching the fat on your other (and sometimes better) half.
I love my husband for so many reasons. He makes me laugh, he listens to me go on and on and on about nothing, he has intellectual discussions with me about politics (one of my favorite subjects) and when we disagree we do so in a polite and non-combative manner. And he supports me in my half-hearted running habit and give me encouragement when I so desperately need it. I realize that while he has been home these past two weeks he lets me get out to the gym, either taking the kiddos to the playground, or chasing them around the house and being the POD (parent on duty) so I can get some much needed "Me Time", even if that time is huffing and puffing and coming nowhere close to blowing a house down. (Sorry, I just could not resist).
I love him for all of these reasons and more. I hope that one day we can cross the finish line to a half-marathon together. But in my life and marriage, I know that I love "running" *this* marathon with him.