My husband, Greg, and I had been married for fifteen years, so our weekday mornings were usually anything but romantic.
The alarm went off, coffee started brewing, and we both rushed around trying to get ready for work.
That morning, however, Greg suddenly stopped brushing his teeth and looked at me as though we were newlyweds again.
“You look amazing,” he said.
I laughed because I was wearing an old robe, my hair was everywhere, and I hadn’t even had coffee yet.
But he continued complimenting me, pulled me close, and turned an ordinary rushed morning into a surprisingly romantic one.
Afterward, Greg stood in front of the bathroom mirror with an enormous grin.
“You seem very proud of yourself,” I teased.
“Oh, I am,” he replied.
Then I noticed he wasn’t admiring himself.
He was staring at his fitness tracker.
Apparently, his watch had congratulated him for completing an intense workout and announced that he had reached his daily exercise goal before 7 a.m.
I stared at him.
“Wait… was this about your fitness challenge?”
Greg immediately started laughing.
He admitted that his coworkers had started a monthly activity competition, and he was determined to beat his best friend.
I threw a towel at him and said, “Next time, at least pretend I’m more important than your step count.”
He kissed me and replied, “You definitely are. The calories are just a bonus.”
I spent the rest of the morning laughing.
Marriage may lose some of its early mystery—but apparently, it can gain a very strange sense of competition.
