That last gasp of muggy summer air, that sharply-angled, autumnal light, that distinctive musk of dying leaves and adolescent sweat...ah, cross-country.
I'd been wanting to attend one of my stepson's meets since he started the season (his first) a few weeks ago, but other stuff always seemed to get in the way. So I was psyched to finally get to a meet yesterday afternoon, even though it kind of made me feel really old. Was high school THAT long ago? Um, yeah, I guess it was.
In the end, I was so overcome by the old, familiar atmosphere that I and my big belly jogged around like a crazy woman, trying to take photos at the start, finish and all the mile-markers. It actually felt better on my back that the effort of walking quickly did and I figure with 11 days to my due date, what harm could I do?
Well, oy vey. Last night I learned the answer to that one as I hobbled around the house with every muscle in my hips and lower back aching and groaning. Seven months on the wagon has left me a little decrepit and my muscles just don't understand how to cope with the extra 30 pounds I'm lugging around up front. Lesson-learned though. Once this critter is on the outside, I'm going to take my good, sweet time with the comeback and hope, hope, hopefully I can avoid getting injured on my way back to being a runner.
Now, I just need to find a good Turkey-trot application to use as my focus object during labor...