My Buddy Bob

There is a man in my life named Bob Duallie. We run together for about an hour every day. He is huge—so huge that people are forced off the sidewalk when they see us barreling toward them. Sometimes we even struggle fitting through standard doorways. But I don’t mind, being with my buddy Bob is worth it.

Bob is great with my kids: Atrain and Jdog adore him. He holds all of Atrain’s treats and toys while we run. He holds mine too. Jdog is lulled to sleep whenever he’s cradled by Bob. And if the road is a little rough he absorbs the bumps and manages to keep the kids suspended in dreamland.

Mr. Duallie takes a lot of abuse from me. He puts up with my grunts and complaining when we’re huffing up hill. And he always lets me push him around. No matter how hard I push, he just rolls with the punches. He’s just that kind of guy.

I’m glad that Bob is around. He helps me feel good about myself when my spirits are low. I worked hard to earn his company, running around with a cheap old Graco for years before I met Bob. I know the husband doesn’t mind…he doesn’t like running anyway.