Turning a New Year...

Well. The year is just about over {save for a few sweet hours left} and it doesn't make sense to reflect on what was. {Or in my case...what wasn't...}

It wasn't the year of the run. Or the tri. Or the Ironman.

As you know...

It was the year of making-and baking-a baby. Lots of blessings in unexpected places.

Good times, really.
Especially the trying part of baby-making...that was exceptionally fun.
{Except for now my dad totally knows that I have sex. Not sure how I feel about that...unless you think he'd go for the whole immaculate conception thing?}

But yes. Good times all around.
{With the exception of her not having nearly enough room in there right now.}

And in two {TWO!!!!!! WTF?!} short little months, this whole pregnancy ordeal will be over and this dark haired, dark eyed, little person we've created will enter this world and start raising some hell. No doubt, she'll be a hell-raiser. Any child of ours will be ready to make a statement from day one.

I've already been doing a bit of nesting...lots of purging 'round these parts to make way for the little one. The crib and changing tables are in, they just need to be put together. And we've been slowly but surely stocking up on basics like onesies and blankets. Even a few other fun, ridiculous little things like swim suits {for a St. Thomas trip in June} and over-sized flower headbands.

Apparently I'm girlier than I ever gave myself credit for, because there is quite an abundance of pink in my possession now. Pictures to come, naturally.

And I've even been trying my hand at becoming more domestic.

Trust me. I wouldn't normally try to make my own goldfish crackers from scratch. {And yes, they were beyond delicious.}

Perhaps motherhood is slowly making me more like Betty Crocker? Who knows.

But I've been giving some good thought on what I'm hoping to achieve in 2012. And while clearly the first and foremost goal is to become a kick ass mom and save the world before bedtime, I'm not *quite* ready to divulge my running goals for the year.

Yes. Running goals.

Not tri.

But a valiant {and triumphant} return to the run.

And it's arguably a bit more aggressive than I was once considering.

Okay.
More aggressive...
than I ever...
...freakin'...
...imagined.

But I've been assured by the other half and the sassiest piece of southern ass I know, that with their help it'll be attainable and I'll surprise the pants off of myself.

It looks like I'll have some attention mano-a-mano from a pretty spectacular coach, so I'm pretty excited.

Now...it's just a matter of figuring out just when exactly I'll get cleared to start moving and shaking after baby girl's arrival.

Cheers to a most excellent 2012 and achieving all of your athletic and personal goals!

You know, assuming the Mayan's aren't right about that little calendar issue and muck everything up for us all.

Ironman. It takes 9 months to train for.

Weird. It's been over a year since I've posted on here. I didn't think it had been that long. But a year, nonetheless. I tend to think of things in Ironman time. When I did IMAZ in 2009, I trained nearly every day for 9 months. Mike trained for IMoo for nearly 9 months year only to compete with a freshly broken arm and not have the day he had anticipated. And all those hours of him racing in pain felt like a 9 month wait to get him to the finish line.

Nine months is a long time to wait.

And rightfully so, I suppose...considering there hasn't been much of any running going on lately. Just a long 9-10 months of trying to get knocked up. Trying, being the key word.

Note to all those aspiring to have little marathon runners and little triathletes out there...sometimes it takes time. A lot more time than you ever could anticipate...you spend so many years of your life trying to not get pregnant and you really just don't grasp how ridiculously challenging and precise the timing actually is. It's like running 400's on the track and each time falling short of your time goal. Round and round...running in circles...finding disappointment at the end.

But then. One day in June...it just clicks. You nail the timing and things fall perfectly into place. {why didn't someone tell us which hole to use to begin with!? tmi? yah...thought so, too...just kidding, by the way}

And then June turns into July. And with summer comes fall. And flat tummies turn into ripe, round bellies and hideous stretch marks. And races run turn into cheering valiantly on the sidelines {part with happiness and part with jealousy for wanting to be out there pounding pavement with stinging lungs}. And nausea turns into tossing cookies for nearly 29 and a half weeks. And that brings you to where you are today.

...well at least me. Not necessarily you. But if it is you, too...then yay!

In about two and a half months, we will welcome Baby Jayhawk into the world. And if we've done our job right, she'll cheer for Kansas, be brilliantly smart, stunningly beautiful, run stupidly far distances, ride around on a kiddie Cervelo {yes! they make them!}, adore the gentle rocking of open water, and learn to "chick" the boys at an early age.

Or not.

She could be a ballerina {heaven help me!} or an underwater basketweaver or even captain of the boys varsity hockey team.

As long as she finds something to make her happy.

Though if it just happens to be triathlons that make her squeal with joy I will be beyond over the moon!!!

Admittedly, I'm missing the physical outlets that make me sane. I'm not saying I'm miserable. I'm just...I don't know. Missing something without being able to go out and lay down 10 miles on any given day. Some women are fortunate enough to run throughout their pregnancy. I was fortunate enough to have a baby healthy enough to make me physically on any day of the week that ended in -y.

Thanks for that one, kiddo.

In time, I'll get back there. It won't be pretty. And it'll likely be painfully slow. But with the support of great friends and some awesome coaches, my legs will return to underneath me and I'll pound the pavement once again. Build up confidence on neverending miles the bike. And find comfort in Lake Michigan.

Two and a half more months. That's all we have left until our lives are forever turned upside down and inside out and we have to find new ways to balance it all. Which means I have a little less than six months before I can bust out that jogging stroller to take my best girl out for a run along the lake. And I can start working toward a larger goal once more.

Oh, how I am truly looking forward to that day...
...and lasting all of a mile before I'm winded and over it.
But I've been waiting a long time for it. And want it so badly.

Nine months.
Nine months of prayers that they'll actually let us take our child out of the hospital in spite of my affinity for disasters and klutziness.
Nine months of emotional highs and lows and a husband who is way too tolerant for my involuntary craziness {most of the time}.

Nine months.
Not of Ironman training.
But nine months of training to be a mom.