Fitness Woes

I'll start by saying that I know most of what I have to say tonight is really not rational. I get it. You'll all have comments about how absurd it is. But in all reality, many of my feelings lately may not be rational or justified - it is, however, how I feel. Really, I've been thinking about this so much lately, I'm hoping that blogging about it will ease some of my frustration. Writing has that effect on me. So, here I go...

My name is Erica. (Hi Erica.) I am not in shape.

I've historically been one of those people who didn't need to worry about being in shape, losing weight, or watching what I eat. I've been blessed with a combination of good genes (I come from little people) and a dedication to good eating and a love for running. Not the case lately. So, you're probably thinking "why are you being so hard on yourself, you just had a baby." "The baby weight will come off with time." "It took 9 months (I suppose more like 8ish months in my case) to put on the weight, it will take just as long to get it off."

Well, I'm 10 pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight (15 over my pre-Gavin weight) and it is KILLING me. I can't really rationalize why I'm so upset about it, but I have a few thoughts...

First of all, after my first pregnancy, losing weight and getting back into shape was so easy. Really, it was effortless. I don't know if it is because I was two years younger than I am now. Or that I had the wonderful privilege of breastfeeding for many months (it really does help you lose weight, among other enchanting benefits...gosh, I could go on for hours about how much I miss this opportunity with Grace). Probably a combo of both. Combined with the fact that I was in better shape going into having Gavin than Grace. I was able to run up until nearly 39 weeks pregnant with Gavin; not possible with Grace.

So, I suppose it's a combination of all of the above that led to my super speedy get-back-in-shape experience after having Gavin. I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight within about 8 weeks. Granted, my abs would never be the same (you moms out there can relate I'm sure).

I remember vividly my first run after having Gavin. I was six weeks post-partum, had just gotten the a-okay from my doctor to resume exercise and running. So, I went for a leisurely 4 mile jog with Gavin in the BOB jogging stroller (with infant seat adjuster-thingy). 4 miles, are you insane? 4 miles to me right now is like a marathon. I do remember feeling a bit floppy and having a new-found appreciation for how much your abs help you to run in good form. But I didn't struggle nearly as much as I have these past several weeks.

After having Grace, I was given the go-ahead to resume running at my 3 week postpartum appointment. My incision was healed, I was regaining energy, so it seemed like I was ready. Brad, Gavin (in the BOB) and I headed out for a three mile jog (a jog, really, not a "run"). It felt okay. We ran/walked the mileage very slowly. I couldn't help but think how badly I wished that we were pushing the double BOB that we'd researched in anticipation of adding a second child to our family. That massive monstrosity of a stroller. I've never wished for spending $600 as badly as I have with that stroller. Or as badly as I have for all of the other purchases we would have had to make with another little one. Instead, our garage continues to house just the single BOB. And our bank account is $600 richer. $600 I wish I didn't have.

Anyway, enter two days after this first run. Just taking a nice easy walk around the neighborhood to return a casserole dish to a neighbor and to visit the playground...chatting away with Brad, pulling the wagon with Gavin. And all of the sudden, I hit the ground, in excruciating agony. I'd encountered a very, VERY, unglamorous fall. Not sure to this day what happened because it all went so quickly. I think the crack in the curb must have turned into a massive valley or hole. There I was on the ground, 10/10 on the pain scale with a rolled ankle and abraised knee. My foot swelled to about two-times it's normal size, bruised, and was difficult to walk on for several weeks. Actually, it still hurts to this day. Of course, not as badly as the couple of weeks following my show-stopping performance and subsequent walk-of-shame back home. All the while listening to Gavin tell me how "momma went bungas" (our word for falling). He still talks about it to this day, thanks in part to my lovely husband who finds it funny to keep Gavin going about how glamorous my fall was. Haha, oh so funny.

So, post-baby, post-sprained foot...all the while dealing with a nagging neck problem that stems from being on bed rest on the lovely hospital bed/pillows. Still going to PT for the neck thing. Gosh, could this be any more difficult trying to get back into running and ultimately back into shape?

Then there's the emotional aspect eating away at me. So, most postpartum women have the luxury of actually having a baby to hold and to love. And to bring with them out in public. I don't have that. I think after having Gavin, half of the reason I didn't think that I needed to lose weight or that it was okay that I was still out of shape came from the fact that I had this wonderful "prize" after going through pregnancy and all of the accompanying body changes. I don't have that now. I have no physical reminder that I had a baby, except a scar. No baby to hold. My prize at the end of all of this is not with me. I don't get to go grocery shopping or out running errands with a baby in tow. When people see me out and about, there is no sign to them that I am a new mom. No thought of "oh, she's a little over weight and pudgy because she just had a baby." No comments or thoughts of "well, actually, she looks pretty good for just having had a baby." People don't see this. They just see me...empty handed. No idea that I just delivered a baby 10 weeks ago. No excuse for looking the way that I do.

Maybe that is why I am being extra hard on myself - I don't have a baby, therefore I should not look like I just had one.

So, I'm hoping to be able to run the Grand Rapids half marathon in October. It's one of my "I want to do this, but I feel guilty about it" things. In all reality, I shouldn't even be able to run it. If I'd carried to term, there would be no way I'd fit in the 16 week training schedule. I'm only able to fit it in because of all of these circumstances that I'd give anything to not be dealing with right now.

Running this race is going to be a stretch, as I'm finding out. I didn't spring right back into running like I did after having Gavin. My longest run thus far is a measly 5 miles. It's taken me several weeks just to get to that mileage. Last year this time, I was training for a full marathon. 5 miles was a walk in the park. Now it feels like a marathon.

I suppose on the up side, it is getting a bit easier to run. I've had a couple of runs this week that just felt really good. If only mother nature would cooperate a bit more and end the madness with her 90 degree heat/humidity stretch she is so graciously blessing us with.

And I did lose 3 pounds in the past few weeks. So, that's a positive. But I'm still two clothing sizes larger than I was prior to being pregnant. And I want so badly to pull out those smaller sizes from my closet. And retire the newly purchased larger clothing that I had to buy in order to go back to work. Some of my pre-pregnancy clothes still fit, but definitely more snugly than before.

I really want to make it to the start line, and ultimately the finish line, at this race. I will be oh so critical of myself if I don't. Crazy, because at the same time I say this, I think to myself how I shouldn't be doing it. Mixed feelings. Guilty feelings. My new normal. Instead of pushing that double stroller, I'm going to strive to run this race in honor of my daughter. I'm going to "Race for Grace" and hope that she grants me the grace to do this. That she'll lone me her angel wings to breeze through the 13.1 mile physical and emotional struggle.

I'd give anything to see her at the finish line, like I did Gavin three years ago at the end of this very same race. I'll have to settle for knowing that she's there cheering for me from above. Along with her Grandpa, who, too, would be there on the sidelines rooting for Brad and me.

So, what can I say...this fitness thing is not easy right now. I'm trying, but it's a struggle.