"I'm sorry your appendix died on Tuesday and became gangrene!"
"What? Why, am I doing ok?"
"You run, cycle and swim. If you didn't your body would not be coping."
Goosebumps prickled my skin as the realisation that my husband was the cause of me; doing ok. If he hadn't of made that bet 5 years ago, I wouldn't be sitting here in pain, but coping ok.
It was a just a bet, but like waving a red flag in front of a bull; he knew how to press my buttons. "I bet you can't run 1 km." was what he said. So, me being the stubborn pig headed nitwit that I was, I had to show him and ran slowly and gasping for breath like a fish out of water but somehow I managed to finish 2km. I showed him I triumphantly thought.
Then, it became a weekend ritual last week you ran 2km this week try for 4km. But I wasn't a runner and had never been a runner because girls with boobs don't run. Anyway, week in week out the kilometres slowly crept up and slowly I joined other girls to run and started to look forward to it.
Then it became half marathons, sprint triathlons, runcations, tri-cations and cycle-cations. Bikes suddenly came on holidays, our kids thought that a 5km run in the morning was normal, a 40km bike ride was something every family did and representing at Zone was just something that they did.
Now, as I plan my recovery and decipher what "take it easy" means I am grateful for that flippant bet that was meant to motivate and ended up creating a whole new lifestyle.