Ah, yes. Time keeps just ticking away.
How far I've come from counting my weeks off by training blocks towards a race, to counting my weeks off by fetal development towards a little bambino. A life once organized around four week-blocks of swim, bikes and runs in progressively growing hours/miles, to a life now organized around trimesters in a progressively growing belly, hips, boobies and butt.
And so it goes.
At most recent count, I am days away from being seven months. I see that my last post had me at 6 1/2 months, so I guess my posting is getting a little more regular, right?
And since I don't have a picture of what I look like at this moment (which you wouldn't want to see anyways, because I look like a massive slob sitting here in a lounger busting out of a race shirt from a race done exactly one year ago and boxer shorts with an elastic waistband at it's breaking point), I will post a picture of what I looked like at the last post at 6 1/2 months.
(p.s. I know this goes against everything I have said previously about posting belly pics, but I feel these are not completely offensive - oh, and ignore my messy bed in the background - I don't make it when my husband is on the road, which he has been for a month):
The clothing version (taken the morning of Ironman Madison):
The "going to the gym" version (taken the day before Ironman Madison):
I can't completely account for why the one picture makes the bump looks smaller, despite the fact they were taken only 24 hours apart, but oh well. Some mornings I wake up and the little guy looks small, and some days - like the gym day - I wake up and it looks ENORMOUS.
Speaking of the gym, here's the skinny on the fitness at (now) almost seven months.
So remember how I mentioned I was training with my sister for the marathon? Well, that was awesome, and I loved it, but my doctor put the kabash on that last week. Specifically, she said I need to knock it off with the 10-milers, and that really anything over 5-6 is pushing it. I think part of the reason is that the baby is pretty low, and really pushing against my pelvis, so (if I'm being honest) it's actually starting to hurt a little.
I wasn't all that surprised or even disappointed to hear it because my last long run was 11 with my sister, and I could have sworn I heard little Baby D screaming, "Momma, no more! Please stop or I'll fall out!"
And I did five on Sunday while sherpa-ing my sister's 20-miler and it felt fine. So five miles it is for the time being.
And next up on the running schedule is a race! This weekend I am going to Kansas for the 5k/10k memorial race for Cheese's nephew who was killed last year at this time. Saturday is the race, and Sunday is a big golf outing (which I will not be participating in, but rather will be supporting everyone in my fancy new maternity jeans and wedge sandals, thankyouverymuch). I probably won't "race" the race, but rather will just try to do my best and enjoy the day with the family. Shoo, I'm happy to just slap a race number on and see an actual finish line. Holla!
Speaking of Cheese - have I mentioned I haven't seen my husband in a month? Yikes. Won't he be surprised to come home to a newly rounded out wife! Lemme tell you - not like he can really do anything for me, but it kinda sucks having him gone for most of this pregnancy. It's just...hard. I miss him like mad and I know it sucks for him too.
And you know what I look forward to most when he comes home? Well, besides someone to actually cook me dinner so I can stop going to Chipotle all the time? Seeing his face when he feels his kid punch and kick his way out of my belly. And when he sees my belly jump around because the kid is rolling around and stretching his muscles. I know how much it makes me smile, so I can only imagine what Cheese's smile will be like. I am proud to be carrying this man's child. Proud, I tell ya.
So, I have a lot more to talk about, but I my bladder is SCREAMING and I need another fudgicle, so I will wrap it up for tonight.