Week 33.5: Called Out

My husband called me out on the grounds that my blog has become seriously boring. "After all, we all know it is not only safe, but healthy to maintain fitness while pregnant." Note to husband: some of us were not on epic mountain bike camping trips this weekend and had time to read.  Clearly they don't ask him about the safety of his workout regiminen.

Tim at 33 weeks pregnant: Seriously forget the term "We're pregnant" It doesn't apply.

Nor do they ask him whether he has kept his heart rate less than 140 beats per minute. Oh and I am certain they have not asked him if his doctor knows all he is doing? Like what submit a daily report of a training log. Last I checked I was asked to keep a kick count not a training log. Reading training logs is not the job of OB?GYN's. No, I don't think most doctors care about that, except maybe the doping doctors who help top athletes cycle their drugs like Epo and HGH. Clearly that is not the path I am on. Apparently questions regarding his workouts can be answered with one sophisticated term such as epic, rad, or sick.

If I hear one more time how someone's friend is a really good runner, in perfect health, and was told by her doctor to keep her heart rate less than 140 (for nine consecutive months) so  her friend wasn't allowed to run during pregnancy due to heart rate description I may explode. I try to be politically correct and respectful of this persons choice of a physician  but I want to scream: Your friends doctor is a quack or she has health issues she did not choose to disclose with you. I wouldn't dare say, but I can't help but think, maybe this person isn't that good of runner after all, or maybe she doesn't want to run. Seriously, I would go on further regarding this subject according to my husband (who isn't questioned on the subject) everybody already understands the subject.

Tim and Petunai :A doctor and a quack!

Tim says I should write about something more exciting that pregnancy and exercise. Well, let's see I don't have any wild drinking stories to share or any race reports. Work is pretty boring to so I guess that leaves me with ...the duck.

Let's hope this isn't my future:

Seriously. That is a duck...on a leash.... outside of Vons.....in Pacific beach. Whoa, that is a lot to take in. Duck, leash, PB, all in one sentence. I guess we are not the only ones with a pet duck. So anyway in the Petunia chronicles, the ultimate practice for parenthood. Petunia made another poor choice. She snuck out and wound up in a strange guys bath tub. If that's not the road to becoming an Amy Winehouse I don't know what is. We trusted her to play in the garden and she made her way under a fence and into a neighbors driveway.  A neighbor recognized her as Tim's duck (He's now slightly embarrassed to be known as the Dr with a duck). The neighbor not knowing how else to entertain a duck until he found us let Petunia splash around in his bath tub. On second thought, maybe the duck is not all that boring.

1 comment:

Cindy said...

I can just see you, Jen, stroller in one hand and Petunia the duck on a leash in the other hand. And . . . you'll be running!