My Eternal Struggle

About 11 months ago my sister told me she was coming to Utah (Moab) to run the Canyonland's Half Marathon. I, at the time, had been trying to get pregnant and told her I didn't know if I could run it because I may or may not be pregnant. The night before the race I knew I was not yet prego, so I decided last minute to sign up and run. I was not trained, but I knew I could run at least 9 miles at a decent pace, so I figured I could push myself a few extra miles.

It was not my best 1/2 marathon time (1 hour and 54 minutes and 49 seconds), but I really enjoyed running it. After that I figured I'd just run as much as I could, maybe even start training for a full marathon just in case I never got pregnant. A couple of weeks after I ran the 1/2, I ran 11 miles in 87 minutes. As far as I'm concerned, I am not a great runner. My fastest 10K being 46:33 (which is smoking fast for me) and my best half marathon 1 hour and 49 minutes and 53 seconds (was trying to get under 1 hour 50 minutes, I was VERY happy to see my time). I was very proud when I finished running my 11 miles in exactly 87 minutes!! BUT, I found out I was pregnant a couple of weeks after that and all that training and butt kicking was thrown down the drain.

I don't go through pregnancies in utter bliss. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty upset every time I see someone running down the street or when someone tells me they lost a pound or when I see people sitting comfortably in the movie theater seat next to me. I don't like seeing my body morph into a tub of blubber and see my waddling reflection in Target's glass doors. I have this stupid idea every time I get pregnant that I'm going to be one of those amazing women who only gain 10 pounds and run a marathon while 8 months pregnant. I am not one of those amazing women. I am an angry woman. I used to resent my husband for sitting idly by while I grew another human in my uterus, but I don't feel so resentful anymore because he pays for it when I make him listen to all all my feelings every night for 9 months (only it's way more than 9 months).

So, the baby is here and I'm actually very happy about that. I really really am. But this is not about me being happy right now. This is about how 10 months ago I ran 11 miles in 87 minutes and went about my day normally and today I ran 5 1/2 miles in somewhere around 46 minutes and I could barely get off the treadmill without falling over. This is depressing to me. Starting over is hard. Sometimes I think "I'm done starting over. I'm just going to be one of those people who don't exercise. Plenty of people don't ever exercise and they seem very happy. I'm going to be one of those people." Then I think "yeah right. Me being happy without exercising is just as likely as me only gaining 10 pounds and running a marathon while 8 months pregnant." It's a never ending battle. So, here I am, starting at square one all over again. yuck.