Today I went for a walk with my husband, and we ended up combining it with a loathed short trip to Tesco, to feed my ever-increasing craving needs. (Recently it's been spaghetti "bolognese" and garlic bread. And nachos. And funfetti. We're doing the first two.)
Anyway, while we were in Tesco I felt the return of some of the lovely nausea I experienced 24 hours a day for 3-4 days at the end of December. So, we went home and I went to bed, thinking that our little walk would have to do for Janathon today.
I slept for a few hours, as did the cat curled up next to me. (That's such a great feeling. I imagine napping with the baby will be like that, times about a million.) And then I got up and had a granola bar and some fruit and read some blogs. People running in snow. People running in extreme heat. People getting babysitters so they could run. And I thought, dammit, I'm getting out there. Never mind that it's almost dark, never mind the nausea, never mind that my good sports bras are all dirty and the only one left is that one I shouldn't really be using anymore.
So I got ready, stuck some Polos in my pocket against feeling sick, and went out for a little 20-minute trot. And it felt good. Until I stopped and thought my boobs were on fire. Maybe I should go bra shopping.
In summation:
Distance: 2.01
Time: 19:37
Pace: 9:45
Weather: cool and gray
Me: feeling good; had to stop twice to fix my stupid hair and once to let some ambulances turn, but I felt like I didn't need those stops, whereas sometimes I'm thanking the universe for them. Also used some old shoes rather than the newish ones and proved conclusively (article in Science forthcoming) that the newish shoes with their gargantuan inserts were causing a yucky pain up the inside of my right ankle. Win!
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