The math is very simple: for every sports bra you have to wear to accomplish said sport, you get to add a mile. By these calculations, this morning’s actual two miles, counts as five.
Where did I put THREE sports bras? Two in the usual locale, and one to keep the kid similarly snug. It worked. I’m glad I didn’t have to explain it to anyone, but it worked.
That’s been the biggest hurdle in this whole “Baby on Board” running thing. It’s not that I don’t feel like it, and it’s not that I’m eager to have an excuse to ease off — it’s that it hurts. An L-O-T lot.
I don’t understand it, I wasn’t expecting it, and it seems like not everyone gets it. There are girls out there who can do eight and 10 miles up until the end. There’s no way. I can grit out two. Wearing my entire underdrawer collection at once helps, but two is the limit.
But it’s okay. Even though the graph shows a downhill trend, I’ve still done 1,012 miles with her. No, they weren’t all on foot, but still. More than 1,000. And hopefully it will be closer to 1,500 by November.
And in 94 days plus…training time, she’s going to get to do some more in this joker. I mean, it has a steering wheel. What’s more fun than that?
And in the meantime, I’ll do as much as I can until I can rock like Mel again.