I did fine. I finished half. I am mostly okay with this. Yes, yes, I know, I am so awesome. No, there were no other pregnant people that I saw. Yes, I KNOW. It still doesn’t change the fact that I’m disappointed. I wanted to do better.
Again, with the identity crisis. Who am I if I am not able bodied? I DON’T KNOW. That’s the point. But enough with the navel gazing, here’s my adventure.
Here we are leaving the house at the ass crack. I was feeling nervous. And awake too early.
We got dropped off and found our place in the line up. There were tons of people. It was still very dark.
I could only keep up with my friends for the first mile. Here are their retreating backs. Bye, ladies! Good luck!
I was actually feeling pretty good, I just have to walk slow these days. I did fine by myself. It wasn’t like when I tried to do training walks alone, and would be bored and end up focusing on my aching feet or whatever. There was plenty of exciting stuff to look at, people everywhere, cheering crowds, bands, volunteers handing out gatorade, and of course, thousands and thousands of cups on the ground.
I eventually found my pace. It didn’t seem to me like I was walking that slowly, but as the very large, elderly, and even electric wheelchair people all passed me by, I suddenly turned around and realized I was last.
LAST.
Yes. Out of the thousands and thousands of people who did the Portland Marathon, I was last. Soon I was being trailed very closely by the police sweeper car.
It was pretty funny. Soon there were two. Two cop cars with the flashy-flashy, following not 20 feet behind me. The bands would stop playing as I passed, the baricades would be taken up and the streets would re-open, the tables of gatorade would have one cup left. I’d take it, and then the volunteers would pack up and go. LAST.
I called my mom, who was of course worried about me, and told her that she need not. Should I collapse, or trip, or wash away in a sudden downpour, I had two of Portlands’s Finest on hand for easy rescue. Fortunately, nothing was wounded but my pride.
But! I finished half. At the 13.1 mile mark (oh, what a lovely spot. Note the nude dancer sign), I surrendered. SB picked me up and whisked me away to food, a hot shower, and warm clothes.
The others were still out there. Did I mention the weather was almost as bad as it could have possibly been? It was. This cool shot is courtesy of BFF’s dad, featuring the shit-tay weather and fine Portland architecture.
Then I went to meet my girls at the finish line. They all did really well, finishing in 6:01 and 6:24.
All in all, I’m glad I did it, but I’m glad it’s over. I wanted this experience to make me feel rad, but instead, I constantly compared myself to non-pregnant people and never felt good enough. My hormones aren’t any help, either. I am DONE crying about this stoopid race!
Thanks for putting up with all this moaning and whinging. Now that I only have to focus on being pregnant and getting ever larger, I should be in much better spirits. I am excelent at those things. 
UPDATED TO ADD: I was reminded today after posting this that I am very thankful to be pregnant. It’s unfortunate that I seem to be able to complain about it more easily than I can rejoice in it. I don’t know what my freaking problem is.
Um, it is point of fact pretty rad that you did a half marathon all preggers like. And it is 100% effing rad to be last. You may be grouchy about it now, but it’s going to be such a badass and hilarious anecdote – I can pretty much guarantee that it can be a milk-shooting-out-of-your-nose funny story – and not in an ironic or self-deprecating way either.
Well, Edward said pretty much everything I was gonna say, so I’ll just say that I’ve always thought you were one of the toughest cookies I know. And this just proves my point again.
Oh Jenny, I just want to give you a big hug. I love you.
Yay! Congratulations.
I walked 13.1 miles and I think I was last too but I was not pregnant. Oh, wait. I think a blind guy and his aide were behind me. Or maybe they beat me. But whatever- the point is to finish!
You freaking rock my would, Jenny! I couldn’t agree more with the other posters. Your kiddo is going to be so impressed with this story as they grow up. And, honestly, I just have to know that labor will seem a darn lot easier for you now. You are AMAZING!
This post is brilliant, too. I felt like we were really with you every step of the way, right up until your hubby picked you up and took you to eat. Oooh, I bet whatever you had tasted so good. It makes me want a good bowl of soup!
Thanks for taking us along for the journey!
You rock. On just so many levels.
A story you can laugh about for years to come … hopefully with your grandkids. Once upon a time, mommy was LAST in the Portland Marathon. That’s pretty cool actually … especially since you have the “probably the only person in their third trimester even TRYING the marathon …”
YOU ROCK WOMAN!!
Of course you feel weird. You have a totally new, never seen before person growing inside of you. It is a weird feeling. It is easier with the second one because you are too busy trying to keep up with the first one to gaze at your naval. Enjoy it while it lasts!
Dude, this is amazing. I’m so happy for you! I am a little burned that your friends ditched you, because seriously, I’d have hung with you, although I, too, am pregnant.
As for feeling grateful/complaining: perhaps you’re complaining because your hormones are all over the fucking place, and your body is totally whacked and oh, PS, you’re in line for a HONKING LIFE CHANGE? And also maybe because pregnancy sucks?
Dude. Complaining about being pregnant does not equal ungratefulness about the baby. It doesn’t. Complain away.
We all adore you and think you freakin rock. Just look at all the comments! Cry, whing, smile, and do whatever you want as much as you want! You are preggers and a totally beautiful preggers at that. Keep rocking the 3rd trimester! Your body will thank you later on for all the hard work you’ve put into training and for walking that marathon.
Keep your chin up, you’re awesome!
Again… here is just one more reason why you impress me.
Congratulations – I hope you find some time to really give yourself the kudos you deserve for this event.
Jonniker is quite right. Complaining about pregnancy is a whole different game than not wanting to be pregnant and/or have a baby. But becoming a parent is also the end of a different life. It’s saying goodbye to other choices that might have been made. Like having a buff body for a marathon while also growing a person
congrats on a fine achievement.
And hopefully I’ll run into you before you birth, and you can rub some of that pregnant joo-joo on me…I’m so ready for another one!
Jenny, you are such a badass. I am so impressed! I can’t wait to see you this weekend (finally!) ~ see if I can’t get some of your badassery to rub off on me.
Edward: Yeah, you’re right. I am sure it will be super funny to me very soon.
Rona: Thanks, friend! I didn’t feel so tough, so that’s nice to hear.
hliv: Hugs right back!
sizzle: Yes! 13.1 miles is still ass far! When I passed the 20k sign, I felt pretty badass.
Noreen: Thanks! I actually just had a left over half sandwhich from the day before, because there was a BBQ after everyone had finished. Then I had a cheesy brat and baked beans!
Beth: Thanks! You rock, too, so hard.
chickadee: Yes! It’s pretty funny.
Rhon: Good point. I imagine so many things are easier the second time around.
jonniker: There are really no hard feelings about my friends going ahead. I wanted them to have their own best days, you know? I would have felt AWFUL making them walk as slow as me. Thanks for the complaining free pass. This IS hard.
Camille: Thanks so much! You are so nice.
shelikestotravel: Yes, I am feeling a little more proud of myself now. I’m glad I have stayed so active. It would be so easy to just lay on the couch all the time.
Jenny: Oh REALLY? Good luck with that! How exciting!
annemarie: Um, please. You are like the biggest badass I know. I bow doen to your badassery.
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