My wife is amazing. She wakes hours before the sun, meditates, studies, exercises, puts in a very full day of work, cares for her ailing father, and then does chores around the house (which we share) and works some more.
And most of the time, she does it all with little complaint. But some days she struggles. She won't have any energy or will feel a bit frustrated or down on herself. That's when I come to the rescue and tell her to take a hike.
I wouldn't call myself a hero, but you'd be surprised how much mileage I get out of this one husbandly duty. No matter how bad she's feeling, how tired, stressed, or crampy, a walk in the rolling hills behind our home always brings her back refreshed, happy, and thanking me for my tremendous intelligence.
We've been married for 17 years and I've watched this cycle play out hundreds of times, so she might be giving me a little too much credit—but nobody needs to tell her that.
My wife takes her walking pretty seriously. She's got special shoes, a weighted vest, and an old pair of ski poles to get her arms pumping. I go with her sometimes, but we don't walk the same. She's trucking, I'm trailing. I like to look around and saunter, she likes to book it at a canter.
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