Yesterday I tried to go for a jog and check out the achilles. It still felt tight and funny and wrong so I stopped after .1 miles and jumped on the trainer instead. To break up the trainer session, I intermittently switch over to the inclined sled doo-hicky that is also on our back porch. It’s a device that allows swimming like motions but is harder than just swimming, so you get a solid strength workout in very short order. Even though I’ve done the sled thing about once a week for the past several weeks, I apparently did something a little extra this time and am sore as the dickens today and stiff as all get out. For those of you not from the south, “as the dickens” and “all get out” are colorful ways to say “a lot” down here in dixie.
I’m also having substantial water retention, or, at least, what seems to be substantial unless I talk to other pregnant and previously pregnant people and talk about how my rings and shoes are tight and they poo poo that away as “normal.” Aaaah….normal. Fascinating how all the things that are normal in pregnancy don’t feel so darned normal to a newbie like me unless by normal they mean “somewhat annoying and uncomfortable even though it’s all for a good reason.”
I think the hormones are officially getting to me a little bit because just yesterday I admitted to my colleague that I was feeling grouchy and fat even though I recognized that this is not a rational assessment but just a statement of what I’m feeling. Then I teared up a little when another colleague talked about how her 11 month old waits by the door for Daddy to come home saying “Daddy Daddy Daddy” until he gets there. Cute, definitely, but hardly worth the waterworks. Sheesh.