My first postpartum run.

You know how I write now?  I hunch over in my bed, Liam in plain view in his pack-n-play, usually after I get him to bed for the last time, close to midnight.  I like it.  I wonder what writing and being creative might look like once we sort of get on a better schedule.  But since he was born, this seems to be the time that I can get anything done for me that I’d like to get done.  Which honestly usually means texting my friends, having a glass of wine followed by a crap-ton of water, trying to shower, and doing nothing else that I’ve meant to do all day.  Oops.  I’ll figure it out one of these days, right?

So I’ve been running for a few years now, and though I’m like super duper passionate about being active in general, running is something, that though I don’t do it fast or particularly well, seems like a natural state of being for me.  So it kind of broke my heart into a million pieces when, in the middle of my pregnancy, I developed some major pubic bone pain (I affectionately referred to it as vagina bone pain), which rendered me pretty unable to run.  I was in the pool, I lifted weights, and I did everything else to get my heart rate up to bring my baby boy into the world in the best way I could, but running was really painful.  So I looked forward to getting back into it at some point after I had Liam.

I was (am) under no false assumptions, and I was (am) not willing to hurt myself for the sake of saying that I ran three days after I gave birth.  Plus there was no way physically that I could have done that because I was in a haze of nausea, sweat, exhaustion, and nursing my swollen bits back to health.  PLUS I WAS TENDING TO MY CHILD. Which, let me tell ya, changing diapers and nursing, especially in the beginning, is this neverending pattern, and you look up, and the day is over again for weeks.  So I walked, slowly at first, and then a little faster.  And then, one day last week, the baby happened to be asleep around the time when Austin came home from work, and I just felt like I might be okay to try running again.  My boobs were empty enough, so I strapped one a good bra, put a supportive tank over it, and left Austin with Liam for a few minutes.  And duh, I was already wearing my uniform, a pair of Lululemon tights I alternate throughout most of my pregnancy, a nursing tank, and a pair of Brooks from their heritage collection so cute, that people think I actually may have some semblance of style.  Which…I’m trying, ok?

Okay, so anyways, I felt like I wanted to try, and that I could try, so I went out.  It was slow, and I felt sort of bouncy, but it didn’t hurt, and it came back to me just like (ugh cliché time) riding a bike, or typing a password into your gmail, or getting into your house when you’ve been drinking a ton and you shouldn’t remember how to get in, or what your alarm passcode is, but you manage, and even plug your phone in before you go to bed.  I did a little over a mile, and I sweated probably about as much as I did the day I had Liam, but I did it!

When I was done, I literally felt on top of the world.  I really questioned at some points whether I’d ever run again, just based on the amount of pain I was having, and I think the answer is going to be absolutely yes, if I’m smart about it.  Obviously, I’m not running a marathon next week, or even next month.  But I’m getting to run for fitness again, and will run a trail again, and build up to where I’m able to bust out miles and miles for funsies with friends.  And that’s a really really exciting feeling.  I don’t have running FOMO anymore!

That said, God willing, I’m going to try another short slow one this weekend if I can get Liam Neeson to hang out with dad for a few minutes.

What are you up to this weekend?

 

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