Over the Fourth, the trophy wife and I zipped to Angel Fire, New Mexico for our Land of Enchantment marathon.  We hit the road Thursday afternoon, overnighted in Fort Collins and rose early to beat the Denver traffic.  I carried our cooler to the car before returning for the final load, when the trophy wife stepped from our motel room wearing a stunning, bright orange, spandex, spaghetti-strap, sun dress.  Her shoulders were tanned and toned from spending three weeks hoeing the garden and she looked amazing.  Once in the car I mumbled, “You look incredible.”  

We pulled into Angel Fire about four o’clock and stopped at the Mountain Sports store to pick up our race packets.  Seated behind the registration table were four volunteers and one slid her chair back saying she was exhausted and was leaving.  Another co-worker suggested she needed a beer, but the departing official said she couldn’t drink because she was running in the morning.  Wearing my straw hat, long-sleeve shirt and Wranglers and I quietly quipped, “Well, I’m going to have a beer tonight.”  The silence hung thick as the three remaining volunteers turned and stared at us. 

After sizing us up, the leader of the group nodded towards the trophy wife and said, “Well, it’s obvious you are a runner.  What is your last name and I will get your packet.” 

I chuckled and said, “We are both running the marathon.”  We gathered our packets, stepped outside and I jokingly said, “Had they assumed I was the only runner it would have left a scab you would have picked at for months.”  Druann just smiled.  In terms of appearance, guys are impervious to the opinions of others.  We can wear a tattered tee-shirt not quite covering our beer-belly which definitely covers our belt buckle and still think we are top-shelf merchandise.  Guys are simple. 

Angle Fire is a ski resort in northern New Mexico and the 8500 foot elevation would make this particular race a beast.  The starting gun fired at seven o’clock on the morning of the Fourth and off we went.  In spite of cooler weather, the trophy wife struggled climbing the final mountain pass at mile 16.  This was odd.  Suddenly, she burst into tears and thanked me for running with her.  After 36 years of marriage, I have learned when her emotions and words conflict, it is best to hide or change the subject.  We were in an open park so I blurted, “Boy, look at all the Canada Thistle.” 

We finished in 5:24 and Druann was first in her age group thereby making her the oldest, female finisher.  I was uncertain if this would be good or bad, so I pointed out all the thistle patches as we staggered back to the car.  Angel Fire really has a weed problem.  While driving north, we re-fueled our tired bodies from our back-seat, picnic basket and before long, Druann reclined her seat to catch a nap.  She was spent.  Any idiot can run, but it takes a special idiot to marathon and an extra-special idiot to finish one in each of the 50 states.  Accomplishing this as a married couple raises the idiocy bar to epic levels as we have yet to meet another married couple tackling this goal together.  This was our 17^th state and I so look forward to sharing 33 more running adventures alongside my trophy wife.  This brings me to my point. 

Husbands and wives are different physically, physiologically, emotionally and genetically, yet we are completely compatible in marriage; a spiritual relationship of God’s design.  Is it not the height of arrogance for man to redefine His plan?  Coupling recent implementation of hate crime and anti-bullying legislation with the SCOTUS same-sex marriage decision forever changes our world.   We are entering an era of hate where electronic eavesdropping will enable the ruling class to ferret out and convict Christians who refuse to abandon their faith and worship government.  Believers can run, but you cannot hide.