And only slightly succeeding.
The urge to become a very lazy pregnant bump on a log is really hard to resist.
While Chris was in Alaska I did a fairly good job at getting into a routine of riding the trainer and walking the dog. That made me feel a little less lazy.
As he's returned, so too has my sedentary lifestyle. I'm not sure why. Afterall, he's the motivator behind most activity that I actually do.
I did get out for a good ride last Saturday with the team. Skipping Cherry Creek Time Trials this year (the fun aspect of the race's organization seems to have slipped, and the course has changed -- thus no good baseline for personal improvement), the team has decided to start monthly "death matches" up Lookout Mountain. As the emails shot back and forth about who could make it and how it would be pulled off, I grew increasingly jealous. I really do love Lookout Mountain. I have slogged my butt up that mountain and cried on the descent, and I've also raced my hardest up and beat my best expectations for my own performance. I've frozen my butt off, nearly broiled to death, but always have a good time.
So, last Saturday, my 15 week pregnancy mark, the group did their first death match. I couldn't resist. Despite some urging from a few teammates not to do it (you know, the preggoness and all), I wanted to go up and have a nice fun ride with the group. For the last three years Chris and I have both done the research on what I'll be able to safely do and not safely do when I could finally get pregnant. The only pieces of advise that we could come across were to keep my heartrate below 140 (although that also appears to be old research, that was the only guideline both the OB and fertility doc both gave me, so I follow it), avoid extreme altitude, and not to lose balance and fall over. I could handle all of these things and so I decided to ride.
The day was spectacularly beautiful and I'm glad I got out. I started out WAY before the rest of the group and spun my very easiest (which is hard to do completely uphill). I stopped at a few pullouts and enjoyed the view. I drank a lot of water and fueled myself with peanut butter m&ms. I cheered my teammates on as they passed me one by one and eventually just enjoyed the cruise up the hill and making conversation with people passing me huffing and puffing. It was quite nice. It took me forever to get to the top (52 minutes or something? My PR from the race last May is 27 minutes). I didn't care about the time and was mostly proud of myself for getting out and huffing the baby up a decent hill.
I even got to shock one snooty roadie who passed me in his fancy-schmancy team kit on his fancy-schmany Cervelo, who had the nerve to remark about how slow I was going (or perhaps about the fact that I was wearing a pack for a road ride) near the top. When I yelled out "hey man, four months pregnant!" the "OH SHIT!" was priceless. Serves him right. What guy really makes a snide comment to a girl riding her bike anyway? What an ass. It was great.
The ride went well and we hurried off to the car because I had a hair appointment in Boulder shortly after. We were still a half hour late for the appointment, and I somehow managed to pull a muscle getting OUT of the car (really, I can ride my bike just fine, but get hurt getting out of a car? This must be Chris's kid...). I spent the next two days in pain, so that was lovely. A rough week at work coupled with some self-induced laziness, has brought me to today. It is Sunday. I am trying to convince myself to go walk the dog after just finishing some really boring and not very-well-done-homework.
Or I could go eat some more.
Hmmm, yes, that does sound like the better option...
(Here are some 16 week pics taken yesterday. Not the best pictures, AT ALL, but you can see the baby bump starting to stick out.)
The levitating doggy trick!
And her belly was as white as snow...
This angle doesn't show it very well, but Turbo sure looks cute :)