Some strange things have been going on lately.
Let me set the scene:
1.) For the past two weeks, I've been required to wake up a ridiculously early time. As in, 4:30, 4:45 max. Sleeping until 5:15 sounds indulgent at this point. Since marathon training started and Scotty is still home with me, I need to get my workout/run before he's up. That means I'm doing X number of miles, plus my 1,000 jump ropes/100 sit-ups done before 6am boot camp. I'm a hot mess by about 7:03am.
2.) As a result, I'm going to bed extremely early. I'm also avoiding all alcohol, mainly because the thought of a glass of wine or a beer just makes me feel more tired. To get through 2+ hours of early morning exercise with a headache or slight dehydration? No thanks.
3.) I've been to several baby showers recently and a few toddler birthday parties. Several friends have also welcomed new babies, which almost inexplicably leads to the question, "When are you going to have another?" I usually stare blankly at the person and sip my water, wishing it was Chardonnay.
4.) Those events, unfortunately, coincided with a rather unpleasant experience with a new hummus purchased at Whole Foods that produced a very uncomfortable reaction. Think bloat.
So, if you are a friend/third party observer to this, what do you see?
Exhaustion + Alcohol avoidance + Bloated belly = ...
I've had several people side-eye me recently, and I feel like I can tell they are thinking, "...six weeks?"
I want to shout to everyone, Trust me, I'm not pregnant.
I'M HAVING A MARATHON!
But by far, the best part - totally the best part - is talking to others about it. Because it's totally like pregnancy and motherhood; there is a clear divide based on who's done it, and who hasn't.
For example, the folks that have never run a full marathon usually exclaim with sincere enthusiasm, "That's great! Good luck!" I smile, nod, go on my way.
Those who have, however, have a totally different look. They look exactly like the moms who are standing in Target, trying to prevent their kid from climbing out of the cart to eat the fruit snack off the floor, while the newly pregnant mom-to-be prattles on about why her child will only play with wooden toys and how breast feeding really is a beautiful gift.
As my friend Sonnya likes to say, we're all great parents until we actually have a child.
As a mom who has been on both sides of this, I feel like these experienced runners are looking at me with a mixture of amusement ("This will be fun to watch"), concern ("She has no idea what's about to hit her") and pride ("Welcome to the club, kid.") But, like Motherhood, even if they tried to tell me, I wouldn't believe them. My marathon will be totally different; it will sleep through the night, and it won't ever have a blow out diaper, and I'll only feed it organic snacks. I won't over-train, I'm not going to get hurt, and I'll never hit "the wall."
We all know what happens to the best laid plans. In the meantime, however, I'm happy to report I'm due November 17, 2013 -- but with a 26.2 mile bundle of joy. Only it's the kind that does not keep me up in the middle of the night. Or require catheters.
(hopefully)
Let me set the scene:
1.) For the past two weeks, I've been required to wake up a ridiculously early time. As in, 4:30, 4:45 max. Sleeping until 5:15 sounds indulgent at this point. Since marathon training started and Scotty is still home with me, I need to get my workout/run before he's up. That means I'm doing X number of miles, plus my 1,000 jump ropes/100 sit-ups done before 6am boot camp. I'm a hot mess by about 7:03am.
2.) As a result, I'm going to bed extremely early. I'm also avoiding all alcohol, mainly because the thought of a glass of wine or a beer just makes me feel more tired. To get through 2+ hours of early morning exercise with a headache or slight dehydration? No thanks.
3.) I've been to several baby showers recently and a few toddler birthday parties. Several friends have also welcomed new babies, which almost inexplicably leads to the question, "When are you going to have another?" I usually stare blankly at the person and sip my water, wishing it was Chardonnay.
4.) Those events, unfortunately, coincided with a rather unpleasant experience with a new hummus purchased at Whole Foods that produced a very uncomfortable reaction. Think bloat.
So, if you are a friend/third party observer to this, what do you see?
Exhaustion + Alcohol avoidance + Bloated belly = ...
I've had several people side-eye me recently, and I feel like I can tell they are thinking, "...six weeks?"
I want to shout to everyone, Trust me, I'm not pregnant.
I'M HAVING A MARATHON!
But by far, the best part - totally the best part - is talking to others about it. Because it's totally like pregnancy and motherhood; there is a clear divide based on who's done it, and who hasn't.
For example, the folks that have never run a full marathon usually exclaim with sincere enthusiasm, "That's great! Good luck!" I smile, nod, go on my way.
Those who have, however, have a totally different look. They look exactly like the moms who are standing in Target, trying to prevent their kid from climbing out of the cart to eat the fruit snack off the floor, while the newly pregnant mom-to-be prattles on about why her child will only play with wooden toys and how breast feeding really is a beautiful gift.
As my friend Sonnya likes to say, we're all great parents until we actually have a child.
As a mom who has been on both sides of this, I feel like these experienced runners are looking at me with a mixture of amusement ("This will be fun to watch"), concern ("She has no idea what's about to hit her") and pride ("Welcome to the club, kid.") But, like Motherhood, even if they tried to tell me, I wouldn't believe them. My marathon will be totally different; it will sleep through the night, and it won't ever have a blow out diaper, and I'll only feed it organic snacks. I won't over-train, I'm not going to get hurt, and I'll never hit "the wall."
We all know what happens to the best laid plans. In the meantime, however, I'm happy to report I'm due November 17, 2013 -- but with a 26.2 mile bundle of joy. Only it's the kind that does not keep me up in the middle of the night. Or require catheters.
(hopefully)
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