At nearly 8 weeks post partum, I have successfully wogged 3 straight miles again. As slow as I could once walk those miles but details.
It took about 6 runs to finally achieve the distance, but it is the first milestone. 5K… 5 miles… 10K… 10 miles. Those are my goals. First one, check.
Running has not been easy. Aside from the inherent difficulty in finding the time between a newborn, a three year old, a partner, returning to a full time job, preparing for the release of my book, and anything else on my plate, it is physically difficult. More difficult than I have ever been used to.
When I began running, my daughter was just over a year; my body was fully recovered from childbirth. I had also lost all of my pregnancy weight and then some. I never had to heave myself with all these surplus pounds. I was also no longer breastfeeding. Now, I feel my heavy breasts sloshing across my chest as I run, growing and filling with each stride. I feel my joints slamming together still loose from the hormones. The aches from childbirth make themselves known in symphony with those from the running.
It is, simply, harder.
I am even before square one, with farther to go than I went before. Yet, at the same time, I finally appreciate where I was before. I no longer lament and criticize that body; I strive to return to it. I no longer bash my slow speed; I work to attain it again. I try to tell myself it will be all the more of an accomplishment when I return to where I left when I got pregnant.
Like before, I no longer have chops for hills or heat. In my new location, there are only hills. In this maddeningly extended summer, there is only heat. This 3 mile run was only successful because of a strategically helpful cloud and a strong wind in my face. Without those, it would have been a failure just like its predecessors.
Yet I will keep trying. Even if the weight does not come off, I will be an extremely fit and conditioned fat girl.
Run time: 45 minutes. My first and worst 5K time was 38 minutes.