When I went in for my postpartum checkup, the OB’s office gave me a month free pass to their fitness center. It’s down the road from where I work, and I figured since summer is at least six months away, now was a great time to cash in. Excuse #475 of “I can’t work out because the weather sucks” is officially off the table.
There were a few short information/please don’t hold us liable if you fly off a treadmill or drop a dumbbell on your foot forms, and thankfully the desk attendant didn’t force me to sit through a lengthy orientation. I must have looked like a fitness expert (or something).
It’s a small but completely non-threatening facility; the building is an old video store – remember those? The clientele tend to be older, because they do some rehab here in conjunction with the hospital. There’s a large room for classes. The locker room is really small but has a sauna (of course, because the Finns would revolt).
I’ve been going for a few weeks on my lunch hour. Since I have to drive there/back and it’s a few minutes away, I don’t get to work out for very long, but it’s better than nothing, right? I’ve been there more days than not. I managed to get a workout in of some kind every day last week except for Thursday. Because when I decide to do something, I usually jump in like a mad woman.
So is running getting any easier? If running was a beach and you threw a handful of sand on the beach and announced you made it bigger, this is kind of how my progress feels. I know that metaphor – and my running – needs work.
As for my strong, I’m getting there. Exercise is starting to feel normal again. I’m paying less attention to splits (actually, leaving the watch at home most of the time or, um, forgetting to charge it) and more attention to queuing up a good podcast and just putting in the time toward building back my base. I’m also mixing it up with different strength moves, machines, and *gasp* even stationary bikes. Because there is nothing sadder than looking at your ass in the mirror and thinking, OMG, it was consumed by pregnancy.
I’m working on cleaning up my diet and working some real food back into the family’s diet, too. We’ve become a little too dependent on food in cardboard boxes and single serving packages. Please don’t ask me how many times we had pizza last week.
And I’m starting to see a little progress, which helps. Since January, I’m down six pounds. I can only attribute this to the wonderful effects of breastfeeding and trying to not eat ALL THE THINGS in front of my face. But I’ve officially packed away the stretchy panel maternity jeans, because let’s be real – it’s time.
Plus, I have a little extra motivation to increase my level of fitness to the point where I can at least enjoy the company of other people on a run without just wishing it was over.
Thanks to some magic and incredibly good fortune, I’m getting on a plane (!) and flying to the AMR Retreat in Little Rock, Arkansas next month. Not only is this my first running vacation ever, but it’s in The South, and I must give it the proper capitalization it deserves. My only time spent in the lower part of our great nation has been in Florida (which isn’t really The South, right?) and Texas, which was approximately 33 years ago. What’s the deal with sweet tea? Will I like grits? These are a few of the mysteries I hope to solve, plus see the Clinton Presidential Library, because, C’MON. I’m looking forward to so many things, including SCHEDULED RUNNING TIME! Eating complete meals at the temperature they were meant to be eaten! Not being asked to wipe someone else’s boogers! I keep wondering if this is reality. Is it? Did I pass out at work? Am I drooling on my keyboard?
Of course, I’ll miss the family, and this will be the first time I’ll be away from The Baby, who will be five months old at the time of departure, which is my only reservation about leaving. Have pump, will travel, will have to be my motto. The draw to recharge my batteries, gain insight from other inspirational mother runners and do something for me, me, me is too strong to resist.
If you’re going to be at the retreat, please let me know. Meeting new people is definitely on the edge of my comfort zone; I will try to not be a complete weirdo. You’ll be able to recognize me, as I’ll likely be completely overdressed for the weather in a place that isn’t covered in ice and snow.