I went for a run yesterday, a nice end-of-weekend jaunt with Moose. It was just before sunset – all low light and perfect temperatures. Spring is trying trying trying to make it to Colorado, and this Sunday was the first time I’ve run comfortably in shorts and a tshirt since the start of winter. (It’s supposed to snow tonight, natch).
I’m so newly pregnant it almost doesn’t count. I think I’m still in the zone where I could have a glass of wine wouldn’t even matter except I know and since I know I can’t have it. It’s also so new that it could go poof tomorrow and would there be anything to miss? Not really. I don’t feel pregnant, except for a crush of exhaustion, a twinge here, an ache there. It almost doesn’t count, not yet.
But anyway, I went for a run. I’m tired and my ankle is killing me (the only time I ever have PT-required running injuries? I have been pregnant. So that’s nice), but I rested it all last week and like I said, great weather, pretty day, off for a run I went.
The song “Carry On” by Fun came on through my headphones at one point, the music swelling up with the chorus right as I crested a big hill, sunlight streaming down, feeling great, just me and my dog and the tiniest glimmer of hope. For a brief second, I found myself really believing it could happen, I thought about this upcoming year in terms of trimesters and seasonal maternity clothes and honestly thinking: This could happen. This could happen for me.
Sometimes, hope like that makes me feel foolish. Who am I, to believe I could have this? How many times do I need to be reminded (silly girl) that, no, no, not for you. But yesterday while running, it seemed like the simplest thing in the world. I’m going to have a baby. Of course I am.
Carry on.
May Your Past Be The Sound
Of Your Feet Upon The Ground
Carry On
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