My husband Gareth is on a mission. Strangely, his quest doesn’t involve self-improvement – mental, physical or spiritual. His goal, something he has been pursuing without success for the past seven years, is for me to return to the level of fitness I enjoyed when we lived in California.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: typical male, they all want their women to look their best, which will then increase the likelihood of them wearing sexy negligees and breaking out the bikini in the summer. No (well, probably, but not the main reason), strangely, he is convinced that if I don’t get fit again, I’m going to come down with some dreaded disease that will prematurely end my time on the planet. And if that were to happen, Gareth would apparently be unhappy about it, which I admit is sweet (not the thinking I’m going to die bit, but his resulting unhappiness).Read more