I tried biking with Junior again, taking another route. The problem with living in a valley, though, is that it is ALL uphill if you want to get anywhere.
As I pushed us up a steep incline, a bunch of Germans zipped past me on their bikes, with a few of them actually smoking, and I initially spiraled into a cloud of confused self-pity. How am I STILL so out of shape?!
I came home from work, and started [good-naturedly] teasing Miss C about her booty shorts, and fashion, and summer style. Lola chimed in, and before I knew it, the gauntlet was thrown, and an ultimatum was given … if Mom can fit into said booty shorts, they become Mom Shorts, and therefore lose all trendiness, and can no longer be worn by teenagers, even in a heat wave.
To everyone‘s surprise — and I do mean EVERYONE — I now own a ”new“ pair of Mom Shorts.
My dad ran cross country when he was in high school and in the Air Force, but that DNA didn’t pass along to me. I was always more track-and-field, which worked well for the sports I played: softball, volleyball, and soccer. I enjoy running sprints, or leisurely jogging, but then hauling ass thru short bursts of energy. The landscape around here lends itself to that way of running: slow jogs uphill, sprints thru the orchards and fields, slow jog through the village, final sprint home.
This is a photo of Miss C and me training for the Air Force fitness test in 2004. I thought of it when I realized this evening that my waist measurement is back within Air Force standards for the first time in YEARS. Still got some work to do if I’m going to get back to those 2004 scores, but I’m getting there!
So,I‘m getting some work done. Cosmetic surgery. A tummy tuck. The toll from four babies and four c-sections (and resulting scar tissue) is becoming more and more obvious as the weight continues to drop and my core firms up. (That was my belly while pregnant with Lola. I was even bigger with Junior.)
Not that my post-pregnancy ”ball of bread dough” has ever stopped me from posting belly pics on my blog, or, uh, hitting the beaches in Italy, or sunning my bits for Google Earth documentation on my balcony. (True story … my blurry realness was captured via satellite.) That belly birthed four awesome humans. Martin’s never once made me feel bad about it. But I‘m just over it.