Getting to the starting line

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My wife just finished buying our local CrossFit affiliate with her partner (if you're curious, you can check it out at sunshinecrossfit.com). I'm incredibly proud of her – she's one of those success stories that brands love to trot out, because when she started working out in earnest about 5 or 6 years ago, I don't think she could pick up... anything. One story she likes to tell is how she had to boot sprinting between gates at O'Hare on a vacation 7 or 8 years ago.

Not terminals.

Gates. A couple hundred yards.

Now, she's got a following at the Pilates studio she teaches at, can lift her body weight (in some lifts, at least), and her mile time is uncomfortably close to mine.

At least I still have her on balance sports.

Last night, we were having a couple of margaritas over dinner, and she thanked me for helping her get to the finish line in her purchase (given that I spent a decade doing nothing but buying and selling companies, I did a lot of the grunt work on  the deal, but she still negotiated it all). I looked up and stopped her.

"The start line, you mean. We did all this work so that you can do the stuff you want to do now."

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