Calling all you waistlines

Once upon a time, I actually had a relatively little waistline. That time was about 7.5 months ago. Being a woman raised in the U.S. in the latter part of the 20th century, however, I did not think it was small enough. I was convinced that I had a "thick" wasit, that being able to see 5 ab muscles was insufficient ("Why don't I have a six-pack after 14 years of ab work?!"), that I had love handles. 

Wow, how one's perspective can change :). 

I saw a pre-pregnancy pic of my belly the other day and gasped, "Did my stomach ever really look like that?!" Apparently it did. And while I've finally made peace with the pregnancy weight gain (me and baby are tipping the scales with an additional 27.5 lbs here in the middle of week 33) and this huge (kicking and punching) melon protruding from the front of me, I've got to say that picture made me wince more than a little bit. 

I have faith that I will, in time, get my waistline back. The question is, Just how much time are we talking about? 

Amanda and Laura, the prof who's directing my independent study this semester, have warned me about the post-delivery flabbiness and the need to wear maternity clothes for several months after giving birth. And they have prepped me for this from the beginning. 

But then there are people like the PA at my OB's office (who's 4 days younger than me and has a little boy of her own) who asserts, "I bet you'll be one of those women who leaves the hospital in her regular jeans and I'll have to hate you!" And I'm like, Wait, do those people exist? If so, how do I become one?! 

Let's just say that my regular jeans are pret-ty tight, and I'm not that delusional. (Plus, I haven't done a crunch or a plank since the onset of morning sickness at 7 weeks.) 

But, man, it sure would be nice to head back to school in the fall comfortably wearing the clothes I haven't worn since the middle of December (and even then, I sure wasn't comfortable!). It's not like I'm begging to wear a bikini by June or anything. In fact, I hate bathing suits with a passion, so I basically hide from my bikinis whenever possible. Even so, I miss my flat belly - and I even miss those dastardly crunches - and I hope I don't have to miss it alllllllll summer long . . . . 

Hitting the Wall

Well, it's official: with one and a half weeks of the 2nd trimester to go, I've reached the point where I can no longer carry on my day as I normally would were I not pregnant. I'm. just. so. freaking. tired. 

The 2nd trimester (well, since about week 15) has been relatively good to me. The first trimester stomach issues disappeared; my headaches became very infrequent and more a result of a tight neck rather than hormones; and for someone who's only been able to sleep from 5-6 hours a night in 2.5 or 3 hours increments (which is torture) since week 6, I've had a decent amount of energy. Until this week. 

I feel it, lady, I feel it 

After going about a normal day yesterday (chiropractor, schoolwork, the store, going walking, shower, etc.), I was pretty much exhausted by 6:30. At this point, however, Brad and I began measuring and cutting the first of the baseboards for the nursery. It took us an hour to do two boards (and they're still a little too long), and my patience had worn thinner than thin and every muscle in my body was yelling, "Too tired!" 

That was it: all I could do was collapse on the couch till it was time for bed at 10:00. 

Tonight, after a long day at school, I didn't even try to do any cleaning, crafting, base-boarding, whatever. I just sat my rear down on the couch. 

I've tried to climb back on the horse with cardio this week - nothing too strenuous, just walking for 25 minutes - and maybe that's adding to the fatigue. (Although, isn't the big thing about exercise how much energy it supposedly gives you? I call bullsh*t!) But really, I think I've just gotten to that point where I need to slow down, where a long day at school is enough for one day, where I need to know when to take it easy. 

So, I'm trying to take it at least easier, if not truly easy. I can't say I'm thrilled at the prospect of the next 14.5 weeks in the slow lane, but once there's a sweet (read: crying, pooping, hungry) baby in the house, life will jump into high gear right quick, so I guess I should just embrace it, eh?

Just call me the friendly local realtor

Yeah, I'm doing what it takes to get it done in the good ol' neighborhood. 

Today, when I went outside to go walking (my first workout in, oh, 4 months? That's a whole other story), I noticed a minivan in the driveway next door and a man and woman in the front yard, and I immediately thought, "Opportunity!" 

You see, this 3-br, 1.5 bath house has been on the market since April, and the price has dropped more than $25,000 in this time. Today's perusers were only the fourth group of people I've seen looking at this place in 9 months - not such a great record. From what neighbors have said and what Brad and I were able to tell online, the house has decent bones but the kitchen hasn't been updated in 40+ years, there's paneling on some of the walls (eeks!), and the whole place looks out-freaking-dated. Needless to say, this-not-selling situation is going to kill nearby property values, including ours, and as Brad and I will be looking to sell likely within the next 5 years, this simply won't do. 

So I smiled and said hello, and when the man - in his fifties, same as the woman - looked to be talking to me, I removed my earphones and happily answered their questions. Never mind my green Nike shorts and wintry pink hat (I prefer the term raspberry as a descriptor). 

"Is this a good neighborhood?" he wanted to know. Yes, certainly, we've lived here two and a half years and love it. 

"Are there lots of kids?" Not knowing whether kids were a plus or a minus, I was careful:  "Oh, yes - but most of them are on the lower streets." 

"We're looking for our daughter, she has three." Indeed! I'm expecting a little boy, and on the other side of us they've got a one-and-a-half year old little boy and a little girl who will be five in May. 

"Oh! Ava's four." (And apparently their daughter's youngest, a little boy, is 5 months old.) "So it's a nice area?" Yes, yes, it is. Many of the people in the neighborhood have lived here for years - that house, he's been here since the 70s; they've been there forever, there across the street; down there, she grew up next door where her mother still lives, then she bought that house and raised her kids there. 

"Great! This is what we needed to know. Thanks!" I smiled, I made a joke here and there, I talked this plan of houses up. And now my fingers are crossed so tightly that they're losing circulation. Or wait, that might be all the water I've recently begun retaining . . . . 

Anyway, here's what I want to know:  if this couple's daughter buys the place, who do I see about my commission? 

No resolve?

This bright and balmy new year, I've formulated precisely no resolutions. Since I'm nearly positive that I've never actually stuck with a resolution in the past, it doesn't seem like much of a loss. Besides, my resolution is usually to workout and get fit (always with an eye on the scale) - a fitness overhaul type of thing, and something that doesn't exactly mesh with pregnancy. 

I traditionally detest New Year's, as rather than looking forward, I typically look back at all those things I have failed to accomplished in the past year (including my failed resolution). That doesn't make for the happiest of moods. 

Plus, we have a tradition of doing a whole-lot-of-nothing-exciting on New Year's Eve - that is, Brad, my mom, and I sit in her living room watching TV or a movie until about 15 minutes before the countdown when we turn to Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve; rip on the people crowding Times Square ("Why would you ever want to go there?!"); gasp at the inane awfulness of the music being performed (last night we were horrified by Lady Gaga); and then watch the ball drop. 

To be clear, I haven't resolved to not-resolve or anything so hipster as that. It's only that nothing particular springs to mind on this here New Year's Day, perhaps b/c the past few months/weeks/days have been so chaotic that I haven't had 35 seconds to even think in peace and silence. 

And believe me, it's not like there aren't areas in which I could use some improving - there are aplenty. I can think of a number of proclamations I could (and possibly should) be making. For instance: 

Write more fiction. 
Read more. 
Be less judgmental. 
Go to church more. 
Keep a cleaner house. 
Learn to meditate. 

These are all good resolutions, and they're all things I want to do. 

Even so, I haven't been bitten by the resolution bug for whatever reason. (I don't think I made any resolutions last year either.) In the face of my 2012 non-resolution-ness, I think maybe I'll just keep an open mind and try to work daily on improvement. Whatever that means at a given moment, even if it's something small. 

So, if "improving in general" counts as a legit, true-blue resolution, then call me resolved. If not, well, then that's okay, too.

Soreness? No. No way

The nature of "being in shape" has now, officially, alluded me. Please somebody explain it. 

Let me relate my tale: this morning I wake up, flex my ankle, and ow, it appears that my calf, and wait, yes, my other calf as well, is sore. No big deal, except I cannot for the life of me fathom how this has happened as I have done virtually nothing for the past, oh, 14 days. 

The only conceivable cause - the only exertion I expended yesterday - is the 3 flights of stairs I walked up in the parking garage (3, not 30) and the hill I climbed from Subway up to campus. Wearing shoes I always wear, at a not-that-fast pace. This is like .2 on a 1 to 10 scale of stuff-that-makes-your-calves-hurt. 

Is it possible that after spending 4 months running/walking/Zumba-ing, a person (me) can take a 2-week not-feeling-well hiatus and end up with sore calves from this baloney above? Either I don't understand how the body works or how exercise changes (and doesn't change the body) or both or something. 

Am I just supposed to assume that it takes 4 months to get into shape and 2 weeks to get out of it?! Please tell me this is not so. Two weeks is not a long time at all. Goodness, it's like an extended vacation. (Except if you get to go on an extended vacation, I hope you don't feel as cruddy as I've been feeling.)

From the couch to . . .

So I didn't make it to 5k, or 3 miles, this summer. Instead, I made it to 4.2 k or 2.5 miles. And, seriously, I couldn't be more proud of myself. 

No, I didn't reach my original goal. But I did keep at it while dealing (and still dealing) with runner's knee and aching hips (I had forgotten how much and how constantly my hips hurt when I workout hard). And not only did I keep at it, but I was also really, really reasonable about it. I listened to my body; when I hurt too bad, I hit the couch instead of the pavement. Same same when I was too tired - b/c when I'm tired, I'm a careless runner, and when I'm careless, I get hurt. 

This summer, I've been the most sane and rational about working out that, well, I've probably ever been while still staying committed to it. 

So instead of being down on myself for not hitting 5k, I'm reveling in my success. I haven't run consistently in 8 years (since I hurt my hip), and now I'm doing just that. To give my knees a break, today I did Zumba for the first time in 8 months, and it was wayyyyyyy easier than I remember it being at the start of the year. I feel strong. I feel faster. I feel confident. 

And that's something great to start off the semester with. 

Up with the Birds

Well, I guess 7:45 a.m. is not really bird-time, but it's really early for summer (for us), and when that alarm went off this morning, our groans could likely be heard by the birds three houses down. 

I bet these awesome birds sleep till 7:45 in the morning. 

Today is officially Brad's last day of summer 2011 - big frown here: :( - which means tomorrow his alarm will go off at 6 a.m. and he'll start making that way-too-long trek to and from work once again. Then I'm back to the grind on Thursday, though I will, thankfully, have no such crazy alarm. 

This summer has flown by. Floooooooooown. (I guess I've got a bird thing going on in this post . . . . ) 

We've had so much fun, and I hate that it's winding down faster than fast, but in contrast to the typical end of summer, I'm not dreading the start of the semester. Don't get me wrong: I don't want summer to end, and I'm not particularly looking forward to teaching composition yet again (esp. b/c the head of my dept. once again offered me a creative writing class - but it was MWF and there's no way I can drive in 5 days a week and keep my sanity), but I have a kind of acceptance of the fact that it's back to business.

I think it's largely a result of the fact that this is the last semester in which I have to take classes; in the spring I'll finish up my credits with a directed reading in an area of my choosing and start making my lists for comps. I can't tell you how good that feels; I'm so tired of coursework, I can hardly explain it. I have, after all, been in school for the last twenty-four years of my life.

For Brad's part, although he's desperately lamenting summer's close, he's grateful to have a job in this economy, and equally grateful to have a job that he likes, that he's good at, one with co-workers who like him and whom he likes back. 

L&O, seasons 4 and 5: back when the best-ever
show had its best-ever cast 

And so it's back to the computer (and the attendent neck ache), but not without fond memories of all the summer fun. And, indeed, Brad and I had a ton of fun this summer. We watched a lot of great tv (old Law and Order seasons, Luther, True Blood); relaxed on the patio with our new fire pit; hung out with my mom a lot; spent an obscene amount of time in Lowe's and an even more obscene amount of time in JoAnn Fabrics; wrote and read at Starbucks; went to the movies; frequented Goodwill and the Habitat for Humanity ReStore (I'm *in love* with that place and Brad really likes it, too); sword fought in the front yard; got hooked on Words with Friends (thanks a lot, Shannon); took neighborhood walks; chased each other with sparklers (which I always somehow call "sprinklers") on the Fourth of July; and just generally had a good time. 

I spent time with Amanda, Shannon slept over a couple of times, I revised a paper. And I never once had to put on a bathing suit. (Which, to my mind, is a major score because I hate bathing suits. Nevertheless, I do want to go to the beach in the near future.) Pair that with the fact that I'm running 2 miles in under 18 minutes despite runner's knee (if not for that, I'd be running more!) and that I haven't bought a piece of clothing in exactly three months, and I'm feeling pretty good. 

Plus, Brad and I (and often my mom) have done a ton of work on the house. Ton, ton, ton. I feel like we've been eating, sleeping, and dreaming DIY home improvement for the past three months. I've got a bunch of fun projects to show off! The difference in my house b/t now and the beginning of summer is hard for me to believe - especially on the small, small budget we've got. 

All this DIY is largely responsible for me going AWOL from blog-land. Three phone conversations should serve as exculpatory evidence: 

A month ago: 
Me: "Well, we re-painted the dining room walls and I dyed the drapes and sanded and spray painted the faucet and fixed the paint on the light fixture this week." 
Amanda: "You've done more on your house in a week than we've done here in 4 years." 

About a week ago: 
Me: "All right, I've gotta go - I have to get to painting." 
Amanda: "What are you people doing now?!?!" 

A few days later: 
Shannon: "Hi. What's going on." 
Me: "I have to call you back; I'm sanding a vanity door." 
Shannon (probably shaking her head): "That sounds like the kind of thing you would do." 

See? It's not like I've been twiddling my thumbs over here. 

Gettin' further from the couch . . .

I've officially completed the second week of Couch-to-5k! 

I can report that it's quite exciting. Not exciting like, "Oh, this is such a fun time!" b/c I don't really think working out is ever fun (unless it's volleyball). But exciting b/c during the running portions of the workout, I'm actually running. Not just jogging, but running. 

Now, I'm not sprinting or anything like that, and it's only 90 seconds at any one time at this point, but considering that even the website says you'll be jogging - as opposed to running - I'm considering the whole fastness thing a step in the right direction. 

Week 3 is supposed to be an equal amount of walking and jogging (up till now it's been more walking), but I told Brad I would hang back with him for the first two workouts of the week - he hurt his back something awful last week and had to miss two workouts, so he's behind. (Never mind that fact that I'm always ahead of him anyway . . . [he's not interested in logical arguments.]) 

My hip has been bothering me a lot lately, but I don't think it's related. I just need to keep an eye on that and, like Brad likes to warn me, not push it by running too hard b/c that's always how I end up with a hip-related injury, whether it's in my actual hip or in my leg or back. 

Anyway, if you're looking for something to ease you back into shape and back into working out, I highly suggest you check this program out.

From the couch to 5K . . . this summer

So, I'm tagging along with Brad on his quest to get in running shape. It's been years since either of us rocked the run, so this should be nothing if not interesting. We're following the Couch-to-5K plan, which, if all goes well, will take 9 weeks to complete. They've got plans for running a 10K, half marathon, and marathon, but, as Chris Rock would say, sloooow down. 

We started this afternoon - you know, once it got nice and ripe outside (brilliant idea) - and it went pretty well. Brad and I had come to a compromise beforehand, since I'm a notoriously fast walker and also have a long history of running. It's too detailed to explain here, but suffice it to say that I get to go faster and he gets to go slower while we still manage to feel like we're working out "together." 

And we managed to avoid the bickering that almost always accompanied our walking last summer. (Him: Slow down. Me: Come on, go faster. Him: I'm going as fast as I can already! Me: If I slow down anymore I won't even be getting a work out! Etc. etc.) 

The plan starts you out slow - 5 min. warm-up walk, then alternating 90 seconds of walking with 60 seconds of jogging for 20 minutes - and the first three weeks seem pretty simple. But things start to heat up in week 4, at which point you're running a total of (though not non-stop) a mile and a half . . . eeks! 

If this works, I'll be more than halfway to my 5-mile goal. And who knows - exercise is supposed to be good if you're trying to get pregnant . . . . 

Wish us luck! 

My pre-workout fuel

(I didn't eat the whole bag!) 

As Shannon would say, Don't judge me. 

The above "meal" is not only my pre-workout snack, it's also breakfast and lunch. (Hey, I spent the afternoon at Starbucks with Shannon - what do you want from me?) I mean, it's better than nothing. (?) 

On this nice, if chilly, day, Brad and I are taking the opportunity to ease back into working out with a 1/2 hour walk through the neighborhood. Don't scoff at walking - I'm a speedy little thing. I'd say "power walking," but I can't bear the dorkiness of the image that phrase conjures in my mind. 

I haven't moved my booty in months, so there's bound to be some creaking of bones and aching of muscles. Sure, I've been doing crunches and ab exercises, as well as lifting dumbbells (in fact, I did both earlier today), but I've been AWOL from cardio land. Hopefully my crispy, salty faux-potatoes will provide me with the necessary energy while the Mt. Dew keeps me awake . . . .