Hiking While Pregnant

Oskar and I are kind of having a rough transition to life in Vegas. For starters, it is just way too hot. Because he's so low to the ground, you have to add 10 to 15 degrees to the air temperature to get what it really feels like to him. And for me? Well, I'm carrying 20 extra pounds and an internal heater, both of which turn me into a sweaty, whiny mess in a matter of minutes when I step outside. Dry heat or not, 105+ degrees is HOT no matter what the level of humidity. Jonathan has put up with our tantrums graciously, but I think he had had enough this past weekend. He suggested going up to Mt. Charleston, just outside of Vegas, for a little hiking. I must have stared at him like he had lobsters coming out his ears. Me? Hiking? I'm 34 weeks pregnant, and you want me to go HIKING? I can barely make it up the stairs in our house without wheezing (embarrassing to admit, but very true). True, he confessed, but it's a good 20-30 degrees cooler on the mountain than it is down here in the valley. The words had barely passed his lips, and Oskar and I were in the car. Let's do this.

After stopping by the visitor's center to get a map, we scoped out the "easy" trails. We were both a little concerned about the possibly of pre-term labor while hiking up the side of mountain, so we figured it would be best not to push it. As we started out on our first trail, it seemed do-able. . .

Beautiful views, cooler temperatures. . . Oskar and I were pretty happy at this point.

And then the trail started to slope upwards. This isn't the best picture, but the climb was STEEP. Easy trail, my butt. I literally had to stop half-way up and sit down on a fallen tree to catch my breath. It was humiliating. I have always prided myself on being a pretty healthy and active person. I try to eat right, and I love running and hiking and other physical activities. And now here I was sitting on a stump wheezing and downing a gallon of water as my husband and dog trekked on ahead of me. It was a new low.

Luckily, they waited for at the top of the hill so I at least got to see this sight. . .

Coming back down the trail was fine. I was in the lead, on fire, and ready to go. More trails, I cried! Jonathan quietly suggested we drive to the top of the mountain instead. Sad to admit my fat laziness, I agreed. Once at the top, we were rewarded with this view. Yep, we're definitely in the middle of the desert.

As we started to descend down the other side of Mt. Charleston, I convinced Jonathan to give me one more chance. I found a trail on the map that was supposed to be on level ground and was only a mile and a half long. I could do it, I swore. No whining, no pre-term labor. I had to redeem myself. My husband knows me way too well and knows I would pout the rest of the day if he didn't agree. . . so we stopped and began another hike.

It was still in the 80s (better than the 100s that it was below in the city) so I was hot and sweaty in no time, but I was not going to let it stop me. I got out of breath often, but I never stopped. The scenery was gorgeous, and I was going to enjoy this time with my family if it killed me, dang it.

By the end of the 1.5 mile hike, I was thirsty and sweaty and exhausted, but I made it! No stopping, no wheezing, no feeling sorry for myself. Granted, my view on the hike looked like this most of the time:

Jonathan in the lead, Oskar dragging behind (he was wheezing at this point too), and me in a distant third, but all that matters is that we made it! I hiked on a mountain at 8.5 months pregnant without going into labor or having a heart attack. Success! But next time we head up Mt. Charleston, I think I'll let Jonathan carry Baby W. . . I've put in my 9 months already. ;)