Well, I've fought the good fight for 33 weeks, but I think it's over. It's official. I have become an annoying slow person. You know, the person you have to speed by on the sidewalk when you're trying to make the light. The person you pass on the right side of the escalator. The person you need to watch hoist herself up out of the train seat before you can get out at your stop.
I've tried to ignore this inevitable progression. I huff and puff with people down the hall at work, I do all the planks and downward dogs in yoga, I swim with the "real" swimmers in the lanes at the pool. But I don't think I'm fooling anyone.
And, more importantly, it's time to stop fooling myself. I fell up an escalator running for the train last week, and even though I didn't land on anything "important" and only ended up cutting/bruising my foot, it was stupid and unnecessary and a little bit scary. Yesterday morning I slipped a bit getting out of the shower -- again, no harm, no foul, but a good reminder to slow the hell down.
And you know what? It feels right. At 33 weeks, I should take more care to acknowledge what my body is doing, and preparing to do. And of course it's time to seriously adjust my thinking -- it's not just me I'm responsible for anymore.
Now if only I could remind myself of this the next time I'm at a crosswalk with the flashing red hand blinking and only 3 seconds left to cross, I'll be all set!