I met my husband almost 14 years ago.
One of our first dates was a hike. A sweaty, buggy, dirty, oxygen depriving hike. I wasn’t a hiker before I met him, but now we have hiked hundreds of miles together.
I followed him into hiking, and hiking led us to beautiful views, challenging rock scrambles, stronger legs and time in the woods with nothing to do but talk.
When I found out he was a skier, I took a lesson. It had been more than a decade since I was on skis. I wasn’t a skier when I met him, but now we have skied crusty New England slopes and deep Utah powder.
He was a stronger skier, but after one lesson, I followed him back onto the slopes and skiing led us into Tuckerman’s Ravine in the White Mountains, sunny afternoon aprés ski parties and evenings curled up by fire.
We fell in love hiking and skiing.
When I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 2006, he followed me in and out of doctor’s appointments and medical tests. He followed me, held me, comforted me and reminded me that while I had the disease, we were in this together.
Soon, he followed me into vegetarianism and yoga. Asanas and veggie burgers led us to an even healthier lifestyle, better sleep and more compassion.
He didn’t follow me when I started juicing my vegetables and I didn’t follow him when he started riding his bike hundreds of miles, but for the most part we have been leading and following each other since we met.
We’ve trusted each other enough to say yes when we were scared, and to dive into uncertainty together.
We’ve been leading and following each other in and out of love, trouble, friendship, and travel. We’ve been leading and following for better and for worse, for richer and poorer and, in sickness and in health.
I am so grateful that we’ve led and followed each other into a better life. This practice let us naturally care less about who was right or wrong, leading or following, and opened our hearts to fully love and cherish.