Letter From America Part 2

Egads, it is happening. It seems I am getting slower each day.

The good news is the baby is healthy and the pregnancy is progressing along nicely. I saw the fetus’ heart beating courtesy of an ultrasound at my last appointment. At 11 weeks into the pregnancy, I am told my fetus has toes and weighs about as much as four paperclips. Does not seem like a lot of additional weight does it? My scale has only budged by two pounds for my total weight (easily a result of holiday feasting). I do not think two pounds is enough to alter my previously consistent speed.

I attribute my slow down to two things. First, I have less energy than a month ago. By six o’clock at night I am dragging. If I do not accomplish a run in the morning it is probably not going to happen.

The major culprit of the lost speed is due to the nifty heart rate monitor that I have added to my running ensemble. Getting dressed used to be so easy. Now, before each run, I wrap a Polar monitor around my chest. I am still uncomfortable with my new “C” cup breasts (a symptom of the hormones surging in my body). Now, in addition to my ample breasts, I have an added contraption to wrestle with as I prepare my running kit.

I head out on the road bound up and monitored for maximum health. My obstetrician has given me strict instructions to keep my heart rate under 140 beats per minute. I smugly smiled to my doctor during our lastcheck-up meeting. I am in fabulous shape, I thought, this will not be an issue.

I was humbled on my first heart-rate-monitored adventure. I was plodding up a slightincline after my warm-up mile and the monitor started flashing wildly—145! This cannot be true; I cannot possibly have reached my maximum heart rate already. Alas, the monitor was working correctly and I adjusted to a snail’s climbing pace.

I was mortified as other runners passed me. I wanted to tell them, “I am not normally this slow, it is just because I am pregnant.” But, instead I suffered the ignominy in silence.

After I conditioned myself to my sub-140 pace, I went home to Maryland for the traditional American Thanksgiving holiday. My brother is an avid runner and one of our family traditions is to trail run in local state parks during our time together.

My brother mapped out a five-mile course along a babbling stream. The weather was brisk and sunny, perfect for our jaunt. I struggled to keep up and even walked up a few of the steep inclines. He politely asked if work had been interfering with my training. I guess he did not want to come out and say, “Gee, you are really sluggish today.”

I tried my best to balance my desire to keep pace with my big brother and my protective need to take care of my fetus and myself. My needs won out and I attributed my flagging pace to unfamiliar terrain.

It is not fun to be slow and I am looking forward to developing a “bump” and letting others in on my secret. I am glad to have the first trimester almost under my belt.

I wonder what surprises are in store for me as I take on the second trimester?

tafbutton blue16 Letter From America Part 2