Our first child had already moved six times by the time he was 7 years old. We didn’t want our kids to move every year or two like most military kids. The kids and I spent the next 11 years in Georgia, while Doug lived in some other state, and sometimes in a whole different country.Īfter all those years of hating that we were forced to live apart, here we were, choosing to live apart ON purpose, but FOR a purpose. Instead, he didn’t retire after those two years. Then, he would retire, come home, and we’d live happily ever after. Our grand plan was for him to leave without us for his final two-year assignment while the kids and I established roots in our new community.
Our next big race came when Doug neared retirement and we bought our forever home in Georgia. We also bought our first house, by fax machine while he was in Korea, moved four times in seven years, earned two master’s degrees, and finally got to fight about the toilet seat, toothpaste cap, and the dishwasher. So, we were thrilled when we could finally live under the same roof and do things couples do. In the first six years of our marriage, we were forced to live apart more than we lived together. With no email, social media, or cell phones back then, my best hope for talking to my soldier was catching his call on the house phone, which was rare and unpredictable.
#Every little step my story how to#
Instead, we were blindsided by trying to figure out how to live apart and how to deal with the realities of a war we NEVER saw coming. You know, the important stuff like the toilet seat, the toothpaste cap, and how to load the dishwasher my way - the right way. I thought we’d start off fighting about how to live together. We started that marathon as two naive kids with no idea what twists and turns were coming around the bend. Who knew that we would be facing the most difficult race of our lives right after we exchanged vows and promised each other in our wedding song: “every little step I make, we’ll be together?”
And I trusted him.Īs we ran through historic Washington, I strolled down memory lane, thinking about all the races of the military lifestyle we’d run over the past 31 years, determined to finish together, no matter what. Thank God I had the epitome of a teammate in my husband, Doug, who promised it would be our race, our pace. But it was too late and there was no turning back. Yet, there I stood wishing I had better prepared. I had already run 13 miles in a half-marathon, started a hometown running group, and coached others to meet their fitness goals. But there was one race I dreaded deep down in my soul: the Army Ten- Miler. Military Families - August 2021 ‘Every Little Step’ - the song that’s the story of our lives
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