I had a bit of a nippy head last night, so called off my planned four-mile run. Instead I had my spaghetti hoops (yep, still on them) and went to bed at 8.30pm. Unfortunately that meant I was awake at 3.30 this morning. I lay listening to the torrential rain batter off the window until it was time to go to the gym. I was quite organised last night and left my gym gear next to the bed, ready to 'jump' into. I wasn't sensible enough not to leave them under the open window though. Doh!
So 30 minutes on the elliptical trainer and then off for a cooling swim. I did 40 lengths of breast stroke and then 10 in front crawl. I swear I haven't done front crawl since I left school. Being raised in Dubai, swimming was a big thing at my school. Mind you, so was x-country (or x-desert). Both of which I rejected until well into my adulthood. All went well and I didn't drown. I did however gulp a bit too much water and let out a accidental belch, which seemed to echo round the pool area. Die. I couldn't even pretend it wasn't me, as everyone within earshot (and it was a massive burp) turned to look at me. There are not many places to hide your shame when your only option is airless. I'm sure you could have heard hissing when my red face hit the water.
I went out for a fabulous four-mile run when I got home. I felt the best I have done in ages. It was a lovely fresh evening with a cool breeze. I just did my usual route round Balloch. Average pace was 8.59 m/m.
I've got a hospital appointment on Friday, so I blew the dust off my pregnancy week-by-week book for some last minute swotting. I nearly keeled over in fits when I read this bit: "don't bother with expensive maternity wear. Just wear some leggings and borrow your partner's T-shirts". WTF? Who could suggest such a cardinal sin. My thoughts are: as my normal clothes get tighter, I go shopping. Pregnancy is to be enjoyed. And fretting and mopping about about what to wear would be unbearable. Well, that's my excuse for my additional purchases to my new collection.