Pregnant Skiing

I know this is a running blog, but it’s still fitness. And right now, all fitness is pregnant fitness.

Like running, pregnant skiing (even at only 12 weeks) was completely different. At first, I didn’t think I would be able to do it. The first morning started out rough. I woke up still getting over my flu, coughing my lungs out and blowing my nose out, and recovering from puking up my dinner before bed. I was a hot mess.

I ate a small breakfast, but when I hit the slopes, I was so shaky and just did not feel right. I have been on skis since I was three years-old (I think?), but I found myself nervous. I found my legs fumbling. Something was just not right. I felt just completely depleted. And one of the bindings on my boots were causing me pretty relentless pain.

I attempted two runs, but I was just not right. I couldn’t make it down a run without wanting to sit down. I just ran a half marathon; no matter how different the type of exercise, this was just ridiculous. I retired to the lounge and forced down a couple bottles of fluids and a packet of energy chews.

The shaking subsided. My head cleared.

I waited until after lunch then returned to the slopes. I felt more like myself; however, it was still different. My balance was not quite on; speed made me nervous. Lactic acid poured into my legs after so many turns. I have not skied in a long time, and the powder was quite intense, but it still not feel normal. I think dehydration from the flu and then having morning sickness puking the preceding four days had a lot to do with it.

So I took it easy. I went slower than I usually would. I took more breaks while my family swooshed off in front of me. I skied for a couple hours then called it a gentle finish in the lodge to be able to ski again the next day.

However, I was not to be able to ski the second day. I had taken special precautions all night to keep food and fluids down to start the day better than the previous. However, I threw up as my daughter brushed her teeth. And at my father’s house. And on the side of the road on the way up. And in the lodge.

I figured it was worth the shot to go up in case it broke like the day before. It did not break.

I threw up every drop and bite I put in my body. I spent my day in the lodge, alternating between heaving over a public toilet and napping awkwardly on a table beside the bar. By lunch, I was sure there was no hope that I would grace the slopes of Loveland, so I concentrated on just making it through the day.

By the time my forehead turned yellow, I called my doctor. She said if I could not keep fluids by the next day, I needed to get to the hospital.

I keep trying; everything kept getting rejected. I struggled my way through the ride home and a stop in Denver. I had never been so dehydrated in my life. My muscles felt like achy raisins strung on my bones; my brain felt like it was sitting heavy on the back of my skull; my eyelids were sticking to my eyes; I was starting to cramp.

And I was worried for my poor little fetus.

I made it home, took my anti-nausea meds, and passed out. When I woke, I could thankfully eat and drink. No hospital required.

I don’t know if it was pregnancy or flu or food poisoning or all of the above, but in this case, pregnant skiing was a vivid fail.

About ChrstnaBergling

Colorado-bred writer, Christina Bergling knew she wanted to be an author in fourth grade. In college, she pursued a professional writing degree and started publishing small scale. With the realities of paying bills, she started working as a technical writer and document manager, traveling to Iraq as a contractor and eventually becoming a trainer and software developer. She avidly hosted multiple blogs on Iraq, bipolar, pregnancy, running. In 2015, she published two novellas. She is also featured in the horror collection Collected Christmas. Bergling is a mother of two young children and lives with her family in Colorado Springs. She spends her non-writing time running, doing yoga and barre, belly dancing, taking pictures, traveling, and sucking all the marrow out of life. View all posts by ChrstnaBergling

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