With only six weeks until the due date of the Bump, I should probably be taking things easy. But then this is me we are talking about and so I found myself at 6.30am this morning standing in Macau stadium with about 1,000 other people about to do something, well, all a bit silly really.
It wasn't the toughest race I have ever done (that is reserved for the 31 mile rowing marathon I won in the UK), and rapidly walking 5km is something I would have normally scoffed at. However, I find myself sitting on the sofa now, next to the Boy who did the half marathon, feeling really rather proud of myself. I beat the time I was hoping for by about 5 mins, and considerably faster than the speed I managed on my very first training waddle. I also beat about 100 other women in my category - which does rather beg the question of how they managed to go even slower than me - and my support coach, J, was very glad not to need the various hospital phone numbers he had researched prior to the race.
It was, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the more challenging races I have done just because I proved to myself that I could do it, even at 34 weeks pregnant when most normal women are lying around the house with their feet up.
Of course now I can barely move with an entirely new injury, which seems to be some form of impact injury on my pelvis and is making moving very painful and difficult (well, if you pummel a bone with 24 pounds repeatedly for 45 mins then it's not surprising that it's going to hurt). However, Bump is unaffected and happily doing her usual gymnastics.
As an aside, as I was on the ferry on my way back I was pondering what my next training goal should be. J suggested that I had quite a major event to train for in about 6 weeks.
The sarcastic cynic. Or something like that
4 weeks ago