Day 142 of 365

I don't like to drive. Highly dislike it.

I don't remember it always being that way. Don't remember feeling that way when I got my license, but I think it happened soon after we were married.

Since my husband doesn't drive - and never has - I take him everywhere. Every doctor's appointment, every meeting, every athletic event. Any time he leaves the house, I'm the one driving him.

It doesn't help that we live in a small town without stores around.

Grocery store, Target, Walgreens, Home Depot, McDonald's, movie theater? Almost 20 miles. Doctor's office? Up to 40 miles, depending on the doctor.

When I was a stay at home wife, first pregnant and terribly sick, I had to drive him several miles to work. I clearly remember heaving in the driveway as he waited for me to get in the car and get driving so he wouldn't be late for work.

When I had internal bleeding with my first ectopic pregnancy and had to get to the hospital ASAP, I drove myself.

There have been times I've had to drive him 45 miles to a conference, turn around and drive the 45 miles back, then another 10 miles so I can get to work before 7:30 AM.

I've driven every family vacation. 10 hours to the Oregon Coast, only to have to lie down and close my eyes from having such a headache. When we've traveled, my husband and daughter have gone to dinner without me more times than I can count.

27 years of being the sole driver and chauffeur for two different people (three if you count my daughter) wears on a person.

But on the trip we took this week, my daughter helped out with the driving. I was shocked at the difference it makes when someone else is driving. Usually driving long hours with no one to relieve me is so exhausting, but being a passenger for a bit of the time was sure a nice respite.

And I found out what it is like to be a sightseer.

Exercise update: 96 consecutive days. No bike mileage report - it plummeted because several days were spent swimming instead.