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The holidays are over and it's that time again in my household. Marathon training! Oh no, not me. I'm the personal assistant, the water-girl, towel-holder, the finishline-cheerleader, to name a few hats I wear around the house. I don't mind being my husband's little Sugar Foot at these events. I like taking pictures of him and others finishing.

The reality is that I am very proud of him. He is very dedicated and disciplined in his training. He has kept a log of his running for several years. How many miles he ran that day/week, what the temperature was like, wind velocity, how he felt during the run, etc. It's all in there. I always kid him about writing in his "diary", if I see him with it. "Dear Diary", I joke around with a sugary tone in my voice, but I know he's doing something he is passionate about.

For the past few years, he has ran fast enough to qualify in the Boston Marathon. While the timing was off or the money wasn't really there for him to be able to go, I've seen the desire to compete in one of the "Big Ones" pass across his face whenever he spoke of it.

This year, the Boston Marathon is a reality. (insert the them to "Rocky" here) He has begun to ease into his marathon-training mode and slowly increasing his weekly mileage. I've seen him do this for the local marathons here in Texas. This year, he seems to have a fire in his belly. Boston!