Today, Martin and I are celebrating our second wedding anniversary. In some cases, it feels like the time has flown by; in others, it feels like we’ve been together forever.

We met in a motorhome in the middle of Ohio at one of Martin’s races that I was attending with a friend, and at first, we completely wrote each other off because of baseless stereotypes. But the more we interacted over the weekend, the more we clicked.

Looking back, we both say that early on in the relationship, there was an uncanny sense of comfort around each other. Almost immediately, I felt like myself around him, able to crack a joke and know he would get it, able to not put on airs and to let my hair down. We felt like extensions of the same person – enough alike that we had an immediate understanding of each other, but different enough to create balance.

In hindsight, dating him was a big risk. I was Miss Indiana at the time we met and preparing for the Miss America competition. Miss America prep was more mental than anything else, much like any major competition, and with the wrong person a relationship can be, at best, a distraction, and at worst, a disaster.

To be fair, as an Englishman, Martin was completely unfamiliar with the world of pageants, since they’re not a rite of passage for the Brits. So Martin knew I was preparing for “some big pageant thing,” but struggled to understand the gravity. My friend Rachel best explained it to Martin in terms he understood – racing. She said, “This is like Nicole has one chance EVER to win the Indianapolis 500. Don’t mess this up.” And from that moment, he got it.

Like me, Martin is a big dreamer. We set huge goals and go after them, rarely questioning ourselves if they can be done because we just believe. Setbacks don’t faze us, and we never take no for an answer. To find someone who unabashedly takes on the world without fear has empowered both of us.

So when I set a goal of becoming Miss America or running a marathon or starting a business, Martin has been my greatest support. And when he chased the dream of winning Le Mans and driving an electric car across America and becoming a spokesperson for a national charity, I was beside him every step of the way.

I still have the screenshots of text messages from him in those weak days leading up to Miss America where I was exhausted and unmotivated to go to the gym, and he responded telling me to go and said, “I’ll be waiting for you here with dinner and a hug.”  And when I made the finals during the national telecast of Miss America, Martin was there on TV in the audience jumping up and down and celebrating, probably even more than I did – for a girl he had known for only 4 months.

But it was in those moments I knew he was the right choice – when he not only spoke his belief in me and my dreams, but did everything he could to make them happen.

Growing up, my mom and I listened to Dr. Laura on the radio, and she had a quote that Mom ensured stuck with me: “Marry the man who would swim across shark infested waters to bring you a glass of lemonade.” Yeah, it has some faults (debate those on your own), but this is absolutely my husband.

When I was training for the marathon, we constantly traveled for his racing. It was the year Martin raced in the World Endurance Championship, and we were in 8 different countries over the course of the season, which meant my longest training runs were usually done on hotel treadmills. The one trip we weren’t in a hotel was when we travelled to England and stayed with his parents. I was overjoyed that the longest run I’d have to do (20 miles), I could run along the canal that bordered their house.

Knowing I’d have proper water stops during the marathon and wouldn’t have to carry my own, Martin offered to ride his bike with me during this training run to give me water and gel packs. But in proper English fashion, the day I’d scheduled to run, it was heavily misting – that fine but persistent British mist that soaks you to the core. I told Martin he didn’t have to come, but he insisted saying he didn’t want me to have to run it alone.

So for 20 miles (that’s 3 hours and 20 minutes at a 10-minute pace), Martin rode his bicycle behind me at 6 mph in the rain, just so I would have water. Now if that isn’t a “swim across shark-infested waters” moment, I don’t know what is. And one short month after I ran that marathon – where he, again, followed me on his bicycle to cheer me on – I agreed to marry him.

Two years into marriage and over eight years into this relationship, I know I made the right decision. And looking at these examples, they’re the smallest of the sacrifices we’ve made for each other. But when you find someone who will selflessly support any big dream (and love you unconditionally), you keep them.

So here’s to two years of marriage, eight and a half years of laughter, and countless goals dreamt, supported, and achieved. Happy Anniversary, Martin!