We went on a three mile walk Sunday morning and the weather was perfect... for running.
I promised myself I'd keep running when pregnant. I read all those inspiration blog posts and articles about women that ran up until the day they gave birth or ran a half marathon while five months pregnant. I was sure that'd be me. And then I got pregnant.
I ran fairly normal in the first month. Then I got sick for five weeks, and had trouble sitting up without vomiting or falling asleep, let alone running. Then it was winter, which means cold and icy plus two graduate school classes and increasing stress level at work. I tried running again, three and four miles at a time in February. March was vacation which didn't involve running but did include 16 miles worth of bike riding.
Now it's already mid-April. Although our Sunday morning walk, fueled by a pancake breakfast in bed, was good it just isn't the same. I miss running (and my waist).
I didn't think it'd be easy but I really didn't think it'd be that hard. I didn't really anticipate the 12-pound weight gain in the belly would matter that much. Or the shortness of breath would actually mean I would be gasping for oxygen at the end of each block. I never knew about the shooting pains to the crotch.
There are days when finding protein or getting my aching hips massaged is a much higher priority than working out. But now that my energy has returned I have to do better because they tell me it's going to get harder in the third trimester (just five weeks away!). And you know, supposedly labor is hard work.
First, finish grad school paper, study for two finals, move from apartment to house, conquer work to-do list, find childbirth class and decorate nursery. Then, run.