If I was a super hero my fatal flaw would be pride.
Over the past week and a half, I've probably told about 5 people that, at 20+ weeks pregnant, I'm still running the same amount of mileage I was before I got pregnant.
Then Wednesday happened.
Pride cometh before the fall.
My 4:45 am 5 mile run started out fine. Then at about a half a mile in the pain started. I knew instinctively that it wasn't the baby which would explain why I walked until it lessened and ran until I couldn't. Then I took my maternity belt off and the pain completely disappeared. I was able to run the rest of the way home.
Of course, my husband made me tell my Doctor at my appointment later that day. She gave me a look and then proceeded to tell me it sounded muscular and that if it continues I should stop running. I'm pretty sure all the color drained from my face and my breathing got a little funky at this point. She tried to make me feel better by telling me I could walk.
Obviously, she's not a runner.
The rest of the appointment went well. The baby is fine and other then the possibility of not running for the next 4 months, I am fine too.
I want to run. I secretly want people to praise me and be in awe of the fact that I'm still running. I want them to think I'm awesome.
Thankfully, I still have common sense and a low tolerance for pain. If I need to, I will stop running. I will cry. I will probably become a gym rat and practice more yoga. And I will definitely stop bragging about myself.
Now, I can only hope that my long missing ability to exercise self control will kick in and I won't eat my weight in cookies and other yummy holiday food.
A girl can hope.