So here we go again. I have created yet another blog which I may or may not actually keep up to date. My money is on not. But times are exciting with a new Vaughn on the horizon and the ever anxiety ridden holiday season upon us. Not to jinx myself but Christmas can't even come close to the misery of Thanksgiving. Here is the picture that sums the Thanksgiving holiday up in a nutshell. Pictures really do speak a thousand words.
Thanksgiving has officially scarred me and scared me a bit about the sprout growing in my belly, but there is no going back now. Especially not now that this little sprout is the size of a peach. I am thinking it must be one of those organically grown peaches because the ones treated with the hormones are rather large and if it were that size I would absolutely have to be showing by now. Though I do find some pleasure that my skinniest jeans still fit and not barely, but rather like they always have.
For the first time in a long time I am not living, eating and breathing running and in fact, I am finding it hard to muster the motivation I need to get dressed to even go for a run. In an attempt to find the motivation elsewhere, I keep looking at these communities where people go on and on in their posts about how they ran marathons and halves while pregnant. I think that they are full of shit and are completely delusional. At least they are doing a very good job at making me feel like a big 'ole lazy blob. My running these days has reached that dangerous mental zone of maintaining fitness rather than having a goal. And yes, while maintaining fitness is itself a goal, it is one that offers neither tangible nor visible benefits. Ugh. Fat or pregnant? I am going with fat today.