When Troy and I decided to go into this joint venture, I had dreams that my calf muscles would look hot in some mini-maternity shorts, that my biceps would be rockin' in one of those t-shirts that says "pregalicious" and that...well...that my body would look EXACTLY the same - minus the basketball that I'd be toting around. I would be healthy, and active, and pregnant. And most importantly: I'd be cute.
Instead, I find myself day-in and day-out in that pseudo-preggo world that I lovingly call "I'm pregnant. What's your excuse?" Some days I look totally pregnant...and others...well, not so much. Note: and by "others" I mean those days where I run into everyone I haven't seen since high school and have to explain over and over again: "Yes, you did hear correctly...I did take up marathon running since high school, but no, I haven't give them up for Blizzards and McFlurries. I'm pregnant." (Because you know, before they speak, they are all looking at me thinking "that girl hasn't run a day in her life...)
I know it's all for a good cause. Believe me, I know that. I have a tiny little runner practicing her fartleks on my bladder every morning at 3am to remind me that this is all for a good cause.
But honestly, people, I'm just ready to really look pregnant. All-the-time.
And yes, I am perfectly aware that in a few weeks I'll be complaining about something else: hip pain, back pain, cankles...
Oh my...did I just say "cankles"?
But until then, I'll just complain that I don't look pregnant enough. Last week I was in the grocery store. The manager was helping me load 4 cases of Powerade from my cart, when she looks at me and says "how did you get all of this in here?" I smiled (proud of those biceps, even if you CAN'T see them right now) and said "I did it all by myself." She immediately snapped her head back and said "you better not do that again or I'm telling your husband!" And then she said four words that were music to my ears:
"When are you due?"
I stood there...stunned...wondering how inappropriate would it be to give her a hug. I mean, really, this was a milestone. She was the first person to ask me those four perfect words without me having to provoke the conversation (because you know it's the first thing out of my mouth these days "hi, my name is Amy and yes I'm pregnant.")
I am hopeful that all those people who keep telling me that "one day you'll just wake up and look like you've popped" are not the same people who told me maternity clothes were cute.
So, here I am. 24 weeks. Still looking like I'm growing something...cellulite, yes...baby, not so much.
In other running news: I miss running. I don't think I can say it enough. I-miss-running. Sometimes on my little 3 mile walks I just want to break out into a sprint...just to feel that adrenaline...my blood pumping...sweat dripping down my face. I just really really miss it. More than I thought. Walking really sucks. I'm trying to do the whole "just make it relaxing and enjoy the scenery" but really...I just want to run. Fast. I want to sprint and race and be at 95% of my max. I WANT to run a TEMPO. And I never thought I'd say that....never.
I guess I'm in a rush to look pregnant...in a rush to get back to running...in a rush to get things done, but if there is one thing that this pregnancy is teaching me...it will happen in due time...all in due time.