Make a run for it

I can run. I can run. I can run!

This morning was my dreaded 4-week check-up with the OB, the day I was sure he would steal my sneakers and send me to the pool.

So I wore ballet flats. And kept my mouth shut.

The appointment was at 9:15 a.m. and I sat anxiously in the waiting room, flipping through a Restoration Hardware catalog and dreaming of a backyard with beautiful furniture. When my name was called, I was ushered back for the usual - pee in a cup, stand on a scale, hold out arm for a blood pressure reading. All of which, by the way, were good. Well, the blood pressure, protein and sugar levels were in check. They made no mention of too much weight gain (for my mental well being, I am no longer monitoring that).

Then he came in. The decider of my fate ... or my slightly socially awkward doctor who also has red hair. Was I feeling the baby move? Yes. How did I feel? Good. Let's find the heart beat. OK. He's hiding so let me try here. OK. There he is. Good.

"Any other questions?" he asked.

Nope. None.

And with that, I was sent on my way with a paper giving me instructions for the glucose test I get to do at my next visit and a smile (unrelated to the glucose test). I made it without an inquiry or mention of my activity levels and made no request to limit exercise. Awesome!

Of course, I could be faulted for not asking but I figured he knew I was a runner and if he was concerned, he would have said something. Right? Right.

Now excuse me as I plot tomorrow's pre-haircut treadmill.

The good, the bad and the UGH-ly

Workout: 30 minutes stationary bike, 15 minutes elliptical and 1.25-mile walk with Denali.

I hate house hunting, I hate house hunting, I hate house hunting.

There - I said it.

Despite being in a buyer's market, we are now in competition for the house on which we made an offer and have until 6 p.m. to sweeten the deal or walk away. I have a sinking feeling, too, that Mark and I are not on the same page as to what we should do.

I hate house hunting, I hate house hunting, I hate house hunting.

The whole process is tough and only made tougher with a looming deadline, aka baby boy's birth, and the preggo hormones. I seriously cried in the middle of the newsroom ... twice ... today about the situation.

But anyways, I noticed something good this morning. Despite feeling like a complete blob, I still have a decent amount of energy during my workouts. The only times I wanted to hop off the bike and make a run for it were a result of boredom and an uncomfortable seat - not because I couldn't do it anymore. I probably could have increased the resistance and been fine. But I didn't. I was a good girl.

And another good thing: People watching at the gym. I saw someone on an elliptical - or something like it - working a sudoku puzzle. Another guy had his treadmill on such a high incline and at such a great speed that he had to hold on. I sort of think you shouldn't have it at a level unless you can move hands free. Then there was the old guy with a white undershirt tucked into snug Kmart khaki shorts, white tube socks (pulled up, of course) and white sneakers. I loved it and sort of wanted to hug him. But I didn't. I was a good girl.

After the gym, I headed to Walmart to pick up a make-do slow cooker. I haven't been able to replace the lid on my current one (if you remember, Denali broke it) and needed a vessel for my MIL's famous marinara. I didn't have much time to peruse but I ended up with a $9.88 2-quart one. I was really tempted to buy a better one. But I didn't. I was a good girl.

I'm always a good girl.

So what did you do good today? Make it a good answer. My favorite response will win a POM Wonderful tote bag, with coupon and filled with healthy edible goodies. A winner will be chosen Friday night after my envy-inducing standing date with the husband: cheap eats and the grocery.