Lost Husband: Reward Not Likely

Lately I find myself puzzled. Well, I'll qualify that; my being puzzled is not unusual, but for now let's pretend it is, becuase I'm puzzled about what's happened to my husband. Ryan is a fairly predictable creature normally. I can pretty much tell you that he's going to go to bed too late, set his alarm too early, hit the snooze button enough times to irritate me, skip at least 2 out of 3 meals, make up for it with junk food, supplement his medication with caffeine, come home late, take one shoe and one sock off in the front room (and leave them both there), take the others off in our bedroom (and leave them there as well), miss the laundry hamper when he takes his shower, and have some ice cream or cookies before bed. That's day to day. On a larger scale, I can also generally predict his behaviour. He isn't going to take many of my "suggestions" about things he should/should not do. (I'm guessing some would call this nagging, but I'll just call it goodwifery.) He's going to ignore me or become uncormfortable when I make self-deprecating jokes, espcially fat ones. He's going to resist all my efforts to get him to exercise and eat better, only stepping foot inside the gym to take the kids to classes from time to time, and probably sipping a Mountain Dew and reading a nerd magazine while waiting. That nerd mag will make him think of another one he needs, so he'll stop "on the way" home at the book store to pick up that one and a few others he noticed while he was there. I call it his porn. Hey, we've all got vices, right? Anyway, you get the point. He's sort of set in his ways, and I've all but given up trying to change him. We actually joke about it a lot. I think I used up all my manipulation capitol when we were newlyweds, so now I have to make things seem like his idea if they are only on my agenda and not his. I should also say that he's very private, so this may bother him a little, but he gets a bit of a kick out of this little blog I keep, so I think he'll get over it.
Lately, though, something has happened. One day he mentioned this bike ride he did when he was younger. (See previous entry for more info on that.) Then I started seeing google searches for that particular ride. One day he announced that he wanted to get ready and ride it next July, so we were going to need to buy a bike. I happily agreed since all my efforts to get him active have fallen flat. Just a bike, no problem. We decided that riding to work would be a good start for training, so he even borrowed a bike for a week to get started. I should state here that borrowing is strictly against his rules, so maybe that should have been a clue as to what was coming. He is loving it, and he's talking to people about it. Another red flag for reclusive Ryan. Now we've returned the bike, and he's in mourning and determined to buy one this weekend, or as soon as we find a good one that won't cause me to have a stroke when we pay for it.
In itself, this whole bike thing is a huge about face for Ryan. He's exercising, he's buying bike magazines instead of geek literature, and he's talking to people. Maybe it's just a full moon. Oh, but there's more. He has quit caffeine! For those of you who have not spent lots of time with Ryan or known him very long, you cannot possibly understand what a huge deal this is. Most Mormons shy away from caffeine, but Ryan thrives on it. He has been known to take a Mountain Dew to church on Sunday. The man has no shame about it, and to his credit, he does need a little extra help staying awake some days. (I'm thinking I'd love an excuse for sleeping through chuch, but we obviously have differences of opinion.) Not only did he quit caffeine, he sort of assumed I was too. And he even took a day off work to detox in private when he'd only been off the sauce for a few days and had a pretty nasty headache and was feeling sluggish.
Okay, so he's riding and he's off caffeine, but that's not enough. He then tells me he's thinking of taking up running and swimming, and he asks me to sign us up for swim classes together. He tells the kids, we're going to start exercising. If I'd made this kind of pronouncement a few weeks ago, he'd have asked me if I had a mouse in my pocket. I told him I couldn't really run right now because of the baby, but I could walk with the kids while he ran, and eventually I might be able to run with him. This is when I became convinced of an XFiles-type body snatching experience. He looks at me and says, "You just bought a good sports bra for up top. Why don't you just get like an N-cup to hold the baby tight and come along with me now?" I'm not sure what I said. I know I looked incredulous. Was he actually suggesting that I harness my pregnant body into an oversized tit-sling for support so I could run with him? Was that some sort of fat joke!?! He dosen't DO fat jokes, so he must be serious. Later he passed up candy, and I nearly took him to the emergency room then and there.
I just don't know what to do with this new person I'm living with. We're going bike shopping today, so at this point all I have to say is that if the space ship is coming back with the real Ryan, they better do it before I shell out big bucks for a bike, cuz they can keep him after I've plunked down the cash.