You know you're in trouble the moment you step through the door. There she is, standing by the kitchen table, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. You and your pals got a little lost on your long run. Instead of being gone for two hours, it was nearer five.

Runners have their work cut out trying to fit in their miles per week. Whether it's being on call for work, having to get kids to ball practice or just going to the store, finding time for both running and your spouse can be a precarious juggling act.

But if you think you have it rough, check out the elite runners in this story. None have run fast enough to receive a mega-sponsorship, yet each is close enough to realizing their Olympic dream that they train as if Nike or adidas foots their every bill. All work 25-plus hours a week while logging upwards of 100 miles. All three men are in serious relationships as well.

Though they compete at a level most of us only dream of, the running-related bumps in their relationships may be similar to your own.

"Clint left me for about six weeks in winter 2004 to go down to Birmingham and prepare for the Olympic Marathon Trials," recalls Christie Woelk of Clint Verran, her husband for three years. "While he called me nights to describe being wined and dined by race organizers, we got three snowstorms. Guess who got to shovel all that snow?"

Verran, who runs for the Rochester Hills-based Hansons Brooks Olympic Distance Project and boasts a 2:14 marathon best, is well aware of the strain his training puts on his wife. "

When I'm not running, I try to make her the center of attention," he says. "She's pretty understanding, because she knows how important running is to me. But I try really hard to make sure the time we have together is quality time."

Kara Krumenauer knows firsthand how little time an elite runner to has to spare for relationships. She's been with Ryan Meissen (20th at the Marathon Trials) for seven years.

Though Wisconsin Runner picks up the tab for about half of Meissen's 15 to 20 pairs of shoes annually, his lack of a high-power sponsor means he still has to work a 40-hour-a-week job for U.S. Bank. Throw in a 45-minute commute on top of 85-to-100 mile weeks, and Kara is left to scrounge for the remaining scraps of his day.

"I get to see Ryan for an hour, maybe, on the weeknights," she says. "On weekends we usually have more time, but everything still revolves around running. I'd love for us to be able to wake up on a Saturday and just go for a hike or something, but he has to get in his run."

Kara is not alone in her wish for a whimsical weekend. Rachel Rosendahl, wife of Team Hansons' Marty Rosendahl (2:19 at Twin Cities), expressed similar sentiments. "I'd love to be able to take a walk or go for a hike on a weekend," says the 25-year-old schoolteacher. "But he's just too exhausted most of the time."

Such exhaustion is the norm for runners of this caliber. Though none of the three is favored to qualify for the 2008 Olympics, all possess the ability and belief they will be in the hunt at the '08 Trials. The result is training schedules that would make a drill sergeant envious.

"I run 120 to 140 miles a week," says Veran.

"Eighty-five to 100 a week," says Meissen.

"About 120 a week," Rosendahl says.

The women generally put the amounts in time.

"Clint devotes about three hours a day to running," says Woelk.

"Ryan puts in close to three hours," Krumenauer observes.

A look at the training logs eliminates any doubt. Visit the Hansons Web site (www.hansons-running.com/odp/logs.htm) and see for yourself. Twelve miles in the morning, six more at night; and that's easy days.

The logs are a testament to the compulsiveness needed to be an elite distance runner. What they are not is a part of a marriage counselor's arsenal when describing how to build lasting relationships. And you've yet to read about how races can affect these runners' moods.

"Unfortunately, the two are intricately intertwined," Rachel Rosendahl says. "If Marty runs well, nothing can get him down. But if he runs poorly ... I used to try to and talk to him about it, but I've learned it's best to let him have his time and keep my distance. It was often a strain early in our relationship."

"I try to be there when Ryan's ready," says Krumenauer.

"But I know it's best to not say much and wait for him to eventually come around."

So what makes runners appealing mates? How did any of us ever get married?

The women I interviewed spoke of bipolar mood swings, obsessive training schedules and piles of reeking running clothes strewn amid rows of stinky shoes. Yet somehow, someway, these guys have managed to keep their partners happy; as have most of us. We must be compensating somehow. What exactly do we do?

"Marty can be really sweet," says Rachel. "Whenever he has the chance he'll make me a meal or help me grade papers. He's very understanding."

"Clint will go out of his way to make me feel comfortable at races," says Christie. "Even though he has to think about his race, he'll take the time to introduce me to the race director and other runners. He makes sure I'm comfortable before he is."

Meissen has his own theory as to why his girlfriend puts up with it all.

"I kind of look at it like college," he says. "A lot of times when you're under the most stress and pressed for time, you find that extra gear and produce your best work. I feel my relationship is similar. Even though the time I have with Kara is limited by my running, I feel like it makes the time we have better than it otherwise would be."

This is a fitting philosophy for a runner. The goal-oriented element of our personalities is one of our finer qualities. At the same time, our devotion to achieving goals often places us in the quandary of having to choose between our most-loved priorities.

"What woman wouldn't be jealous of something her husband loves to do so much?" asks Rachel. "Fortunately, I don't think there's anything that could put Marty in the position of having to choose between running and our relationship. Sure, there have been times I've wondered if he loves running more than me, but in the end I know what he'd choose if it came down to it."

"Ohhh, ahh ... I'd choose my wife," says Rosendahl, asked what he'd pick if a gun were put to his head. "Rachel said, 'Till death do us part,' but running can only happen till I'm not competitive. Fortunately, I know she would never put me in the position of having to make that choice; so, lucky me, I get both!"

Every runner understands the initial hesitancy of Rosendahl's reply. Meissen had a unique take on the difficulty of the question.

"I don't worry about it because they are two completely different things," he says. "We can have a passion for a lot of things. In the case of running and Kara, one is a passion for something I do, the other for an individual. They don't conflict with each other."

How did Meissen answer the question about the gun to his head?

"I'd run away," he says.

Meissen may have a future as a politician. In the meantime, all three runners will continue to chase their Olympic dreams while maintaining their relationships. And though our running goals may not be quite as grand