Tomorrow will mark 34 weeks. I'd be lying if I said I didn't already feel like it's the end. It's not. I have 6 full weeks left till I am 40 weeks pregnant.
So soon, yet so very far away.
I want to meet my new little man. I want him to stop kicking me so hard at night so I can sleep. I want to be able to have a run where I don't feel like the earth is shaking with my every step.
Chicago is this weekend, and though I certainly do NOT miss that race, I am missing all the marathon hype that goes on during October. It's marathon season - the time of the year when I am usually at my fittest - this time I'm 30+ lbs over that fittest point.
In the end I know my reward is greater than any marathon medal hanging around my neck. Though I still find myself wishing that in 3 weeks some nice marine was saying congrats ma'am.
I ran/walked for 30 minutes today on my treadmill. It really looks like he's getting a bit dusty. I think he misses me too. He's thinking why is this girl not running for 3 hours at a time anymore? Why is her running speed the speed she used to walk?
When they say you will do anything for your kids, it's true. There are only 3 people in this world that I would gain this much weight for, be this uncomfortable for, sacrifice my running for, and deal with my semi-out-of-control-emotions for. Two I have met, and one I'm just patiently, or not so patiently waiting to meet.
Visit my personal blog at: