puerto vallarta

It was hot, humid and fabulous. Wish I could go back right now. And if I did it all over again, I'd try not to eat so many oreos every night. But who are we kidding.

los padres

My parents left our apartment this morning after spending 10 days in the D.F. with us. There was a lot of screaming, chasing and tickling happening while they were here. Our neighbors probably hate us even more than they did 10 days ago. And now my kids are all mopey about life. 

Then a few hours later we came home to a panicky voicemail message from my dad about how he left his exercise band at our house and that I better get it up and out of the way before one of my kids chokes themselves to death. Really, that's what his message said. Before they choke themselves to death. Can we get any more dramatic? He was probably sitting at the airport for two hours before their flight left stressing endlessly over whether or not I got his message, found the exercise band, and then put it away. Ever the worry wart. Remember this post and this post? So nobody run with toothpicks in your hand, because you might fall and poke your eyes out. Seriously, guys. Seriously.

she likes candy

That's a piece of licorice in her mouth in case you're wondering.

It's about 5:11 a.m. I've been up since 2 a.m. I'm so tired but I can't sleep because the fetus has been doing a dance in utero since 2 a.m. I hope this isn't indicative of his personality.

I would blog more, but I don't want to.

I am waiting for the nesting bug to hit me, but it still hasn't. And the thought of washing all the baby clothes and setting up the crib and buying swaddleme's exhausts me. So I am doing nothing.

I ordered nursing bras the other day from Bravado Designs. Size 34 F/G. Sickening. Sometimes I wish it was my first baby, so I didn't know what was coming. Ignorance is bliss.

This is a depressing post about nothing. It's now 5:22 a.m. and Baby is still going strong. Please stop. Please, please, please, please, please, please stop. I make my kids do push-ups when they act up. Maybe I should do a few right now.

Now it's 5:30 a.m. I shouldn't click "publish post."

race report

I arrived in Utah last Thursday, and it never fails... the clean air, the wider streets, minimal traffic, Twizzlers. I hope I never take the U.S. of A. for granted again when we are finally back to stay.



The Friday night before the race, we all got together for a carb-loading dinner at Brick Oven. We were pumped and ready to just get the race done.











Okay, now... I seriously vacillated over whether or not I should post the following pics. They are truly the most heinous pictures of me ever. Do I really want to remember myself this way? I thought. Even worse, if I died tomorrow and this was my very last post, do I want other people to remember me this way? Swollen, huge, sweaty and pregnant... a freakin hot mess. Pride is a fickle beast. But then I decided we just better keep it real on here, folks. So if you want to avoid dry-heaving now, I understand. If you're willing to singe out your eyeballs, carry on.

Here I am at the four-mile mark. This picture makes me wanna sob like an insecure baby. You know those people who look so pretty when they run? I hate those people. And do you see how no one was behind me? Yeah. I walked the first three miles of this race. It might be the greatest accomplishment in will power I have ever achieved. But I knew that if I and my 7-month pregnant belly didn't walk those first three miles to warm up, I would probably want to sever my legs off at mile 10 and wait for the swag wagon to pick me up and take me home. Watching everyone take off while I sauntered down the little hill for three miles might have been the most depressing thing of my life.



So after mile 3, I set into a jog/run. Once I started passing a few people, my self-esteem and my pace picked up. At mile 6, we hit a switch back in front of Bridal Veil Falls and then I got depressed again, because you could see all the people ahead of you who had already made the turnaround. By about mile 7, I started having a burning pain in the inside arch of my left foot. Some kind of tendinitis, I think, that I was worried was becoming a stress fracture. Thank you, baby weight. And every step sent a shooting pain into my foot. My round ligaments in the belly were starting to feel the load up front, so during mile 8, I stopped to walk and do some cat stretches. People probably thought I was about to go into labor, because I had a few concerned passersby stop and ask if I was alright. I set into a run again, but then had to walk again by mile 10. Mostly because I couldn't believe I had three more miles to go by that point and we'd run out of shade and had come out of the canyon. So I walked for about half a mile and then headed back into a run but was walking again by mile 12. But there was no way I was going to finish this race walking, and I couldn't handle being on that trail another minute. So I said a little prayer for my left foot and headed to the finish as fast as my swollen, achy body would let me.



Thanks, Ang and Lauren for running in with me!





Hecho. Done. We were exhausted.



Then Amanda and her family invited us all over for lunch at their home afterward (thank you, A and padres!). Oh, how I love these ladies. Are we so super cute in our matching T's in the Mexican flag colors? It physically pained me to even kneel and pose for this picture. That would be a grimace on my face, not a smile.



So I have vowed to never run another half marathon while 7 months pregnant. Which won't be a hard promise to keep, because I don't plan on being pregnant ever again either. BUT it doesn't mean I regret doing it. I am so glad I did it, and I am especially glad I did it with my Mexican expat amigas. Though we all met in the D.F., a lot of us have already moved away. I miss them, and seeing them made every step of those 13.1 miles worth it (aside from mile 8 where I was cursing Lauren and Lisa for making us all sign up in the first place).

What made the weekend even better? My brother-in-law, Pete, flew out from Houston to support me and watch me race (thank you, Pete! Love you!). And then Bruce flew out to surprise me, too. Mostly because he was worried I might go into labor without him there. And even though I flipped out about him leaving our three kids with friends of ours for four days (and to whom I now owe an arm and a leg), it made my life to have him there. Bruce, I love you so much. And I didn't realize how much I wanted them there to cheer me on until I saw Bruce and Pete standing there at mile 4. Teared up instantly, curse those hormones. But oh, friends. Life is good. And I think I might just go and have a root beer float right now to celebrate the end of my Saturday long runs... for now, at least. Until next year, Lomas Ladies!

Pic stolen from Angie's blog.

fellow chilangas, this one's for you

If only I looked this good running... instead, you can tack on about 576 more pounds.

Yesterday, I did 11 1/2 miles. No, I did not run the whole way. In fact, I limped a good portion of it. And maybe I am slower than an earth worm. But yesterday marked my last long "run" before this half marathon next weekend. I kinda can't wait to get it over with, because then I'm going into bear hibernation mode for the last two months of this pregnancy. Periodically during the run yesterday, I would lament about how much easier it would be to lose the 15-pound tire around my middle, but I can't think like that or I start to hyperventilate and feel claustrophobic in my swollen, gestating state. But then... somewhere during that run... I had a moment.

In the past few months of my runs, sometimes I'd picture seeing my fellow Chilangas (that's code for girls who reside in El D.F. or Mexico City) at the finish line, and I'd get a little teary. Part of it is the raging hormones, but then part of it is the fact that I am going to run/walk/limp this thing with one of the most amazing group of ladies I have ever been privileged to call my friends. They've been through a lot. A lot a lot. Like deportation, divorce and death of a little one... to just name a few. 13.1 miles is a cake walk. But man, they are strong women. Not everyone can live in Mexico City. And not everyone can go through what these women have gone through and come out the other side as vibrant, faithful and amazing as ever.

So next Saturday I dedicate this race to these 20 women who inspire me every day and who I am blessed to call mis queridas amigas. No one else could convince me to do a half marathon at nearly 7 months pregnant. Literally, no one else. Fellow Chilangas, this one's for you.