You got beat by a pregnant girl

A few weeks ago, I signed me and Hubs up for a 5k. I have been running 3 miles at least twice a week for this whole pregnancy (well, I was running farther and more often before this kid became legit GINORMOUS and decided that I don't really need my full and complete lung function anymore), so it didn't seem like a big deal. I like races, I love love love "free" t-shirts and I was going to miss two races I really loved doing last year (the Drake Half and Dam to Dam), so I decided to treat myself.

Hubs and me, pre-run, complete with giant, swollen preggo face.

The course was pretty flat and it was a super amazing sunny, 60 degree day - perfect for getting all kinds of sweaty and not finishing last.

You see, Hubs and I, we may be just a little competitive. Not with each other, but with all you people. You people with your fancy running shorts and tight abs and normal-sized ankles. And you people who are running with a crazed dog or two cranky toddlers in a stroller. We were not about to let all of you beat us. A few of you, OK. Most of you, yes. But ALL of you? Oh hells to the flippin' no, man.

This is what 37 minutes of running does to a woman who is 37 weeks with child.

I made the mistake of not warming up, so we had to walk the first few minutes. Throngs and throngs of people passed us, because who doesn't start a run by running? Hubs got nervous. I remained confident that we would not literally be the last people to finish.

My race goals: Don't finish dead last, don't pee my pants. Simple as that.

We started running and didn't stop to walk until about mile 2, when my darling bump got a little fiesty. One block later and we were back to running. We spotted a very nice woman who I had chatted up while in line for the bathroom pre-race. She had been sweet and talked to me about her grandkids. 

I decided she was the person I had to beat.

Hubs (who literally could have sped-walked and kept pace with my running), was on board with this plan and we kicked it into high gear (you know, for a lady ready to pop). My frenemy wasn't going down without a fight, though, and we passed each other a few times in the final mile before I went all out while she took a walk break. BOOM.

We beat that lady (and a surprising amount of other people!) by at least two minutes.

Disclaimer: even if I had finished dead last, I would still be proud as heck that I ran. I know I'm incredibly lucky to have had such a healthy pregnancy so far and to be able to still do what I love. It's a great, great thing and not something I take for granted. I just....am a competitive weirdo.

Not too shabby for a girl who (on numerous occasions in elementary school) would fake asthma attacks to get out of the Mile Run.