is something I've heard other people say. These are words I will never utter myself because the simple fact is it has slowed me down substantially. What do I mean it's "slowed me down"? I'm pretty sure I mean everything that statement could possibly imply. Physically I can't do the same things, mentally I feel foggy (which could be my brain rotting from unemployment), and even time passes more slowly for me now as I count down the seconds until September 12th.
My physical slowness is, I hope, the most apparent. Without a doubt, I run more slowly now. In fact, I've managed to add a good two minutes per mile to my running pace without experiencing any decrease in effort. Tell me that's not discouraging! I still love my runs and I'm determined to keep it up until I tip over or my legs collapse from the weight but it's at times hard to accept that my effort level has remained 100% the same while my performance has diminished rather substantially. I will say that I'm glad it is (sort of) starting to get warmer here so I'm no longer running in enormous sweatshirts. I'm glad about that for a lot of reasons actually but especially because now as people fly by me on the trail I can hope they catch a glimpse of my belly and feel a little less self satisfaction at passing me and perhaps think of me less as that slow girl in their way and more as that tough girl who's toting around another person rather than sitting on the couch eating bonbons.
Recently G and I went on a hiking trip at several of Utah's national parks, sort of a babymoon I guess? I've never been a champion hiker by any means and especially living in Utah there is always someone 1000% more insane and fit than you are but nonetheless I considered myself one of the more in shape hikers at the parks. (If you've ever visited a national park you would know that the vast majority of your fellow visitors are likely to be senior citizens.) Those little hiking maps they give you at the visitor center give estimated times for how long each trail will take. I would always smugly half those figures in my head, which was about right. Not so much anymore!!! For starters, I can no longer tackle the 'strenuous' trails because they always involve steep elevation gains and I now find myself with chronic back pain of an 80 yr old. Additionally I just can't inhale as much oxygen as I once could and, as with running, just can't keep the same pace. I'm proud to report, however, that we still beat all of the park service's time estimates just maybe not by a factor of 50%. Eat my dust, grandmas.
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| action shot |
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| I need more stops now too |
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| There was a lot of fording creeks. It was just like Oregon Trail. |
I think the only thing about my life that hasn't slowed is the time interval between my bathroom visits. I'll leave it to your imagination to figure out how well that works when you're out on a 6 mile trail but I will say that I had to follow a strict dehydration regimen on the driving portion of our trip to keep my driver from leaving me behind at a gas station. If you're squeamish at all or male don't read this next part. Baby's latest acquired talent is kicking me in the bladder. I had heard this could happen but really didn't understand how you'd know exactly what was being kicked. Umm turns out it's obvious. Basically you are striding along feeling normal, then he kicks, and for about 2 seconds you have the most urgent "OMG I'M GOING TO PEE MY PANTS" feeling you've ever experienced. Then it goes away. Then it comes back every time he kicks again. Over and over, and over. Any solutions to this problem are welcome, unless you offer to buy me adult diapers. Not only will you be the 10th person to make that joke but it will make me depressed because I'll at least briefly consider it. If you're still reading, no I haven't peed my pants... yet. Oh, guess what else has slowed down? My filter reflex when it comes to sharing gross personal details.
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