I took up running in high school, but never loved it enough to make it my primary form of exercise. For me, it was more of a coping mechanism than anything else; long before my disordered days, it was a way to pound the day away, clear my head, get an all-natural high.
I enjoyed it once I got going, but often dreaded the lead-up to a run. And so aside from some running spurts each fall and spring, I never really got into it. I admired my friends who run marathons and half-marathons and 10Ks and 5Ks, but never had any desire to challenge myself in that way.
Still, every now and then the urge to lace up my sneaks and zone out for a few miles would hit. Once I hit the 5-month mark in my pregnancy, I had to stop running, period. I’d always had a small bladder and a pregnant bladder–plus a growing belly–made running nothing short of impossible for me.
Though I’ve been back at the gym since Maya was six weeks old, I’d yet to run — mostly because of winter weather but also because I was still a little concerned about my C-section scar.
The opportunity to run came out of necessity Saturday morning. I wasn’t feeling well last week and barely worked out, so I really wanted to do something fitness-oriented Saturday morning.
We had a friend coming to visit at 9 and we were meeting another friend for brunch at 11:30 so I knew I wouldn’t have time for the gym (which, to my dismay, doesn’t open til 8 on Saturdays). So my husband had some snuggle time with Maya while I hit the pavement. (We don’t have a jogger but might invest in one).
Without a growing belly and the fear of jostling a teensy baby around, I was able to run pretty easily! (Guess my cardio fitness is still decent). I only did two miles, but it felt amazing–the cool, crisp air coursing through my lungs. I didn’t worry about needing a bathroom and enjoyed the art of running.
I still don’t see myself as a runner in the future, but it’s nice to know that I got back on the saddle and the ride wasn’t awful.