Any runner knows that time off can be extremely beneficial. Since I haven’t run a step [let alone left my house] since Sunday, my rational thinking led me to believe that my first run back would be amazing. Wind blowing through my hair, birds chirping in unison with my footfalls, my Garmin reporting lovely numbers back to me, confirming that time off for the ice storm was going to pay off.
Cue the weather, and it was sunny and warmer one second, with sleet coming down sideways the next. “Alas!! I shall go to the gym!! Hurrah!!” I said to myself, giddily. I bounced into our room, changed, and got my gym bag together, buzzing with excitement. I was off to the gym, humming to myself along the way. I hop onto the treadmill.
Friends, that’s where the fun stops.
This run went so terrible, I hesitate to even call it a run.
My shins were tender at the start of my run, and I felt like I was putting forth a 7:30 pace effort when in reality I was barely huffing along at a 9:50. Before too long, my stomach started cramping up and feeling very ‘off’. I don’t exactly know what was going on, and even hours later I still feel weird.
I managed to run a mile and then walk half of one, but I came home feeling defeated and pissed. I have to tell myself that these things do happen during pregnancy and that sometimes a run just isn’t in the cards.
Waylynn is obviously fine and moving normally. I just feel compressed, and stretching out my stomach feels amazing. There’s also this weird “i have gas” sensation but I actually dont. To top it all off I am very short of breath and super, super tired. So who knows, maybe he’s just growing and my organs are shifting around
Better luck tomorrow. Until then, you can find me hydrating like a fool and eating adequately.
Sorry for the lack of photos – blogging from the phone