Ironically, right before I finished up writing this, my good friend Nicholi posted the following video on my Facebook. He shares my movie fanaticalness, particularly for Karate Kid- in which this song plays during the final tournament montage (classic awesomeness right there!). Connecting this with my weakness for all things cats made my day and is case in point why we are friends.
This entry is actually funny to me when read with this song playing, which I figured out while going back to proof read my spelling (NERD). ROCK!
As much as it was tempting, I decided not to jump right into any kind of extreme diet and exercise routine postpartum- no matter how eager I am to see the last 10-15 lbs. of the 45 I gained while pregnant with Viv disappear.
Now I'm into week two, and I am determined to make my treadmill my bitch. Right now though, as I have discovered, I am my treadmill's bitch. I have a love/hate relationship with my treadmill- which exists solely as a coat rack and collection point for shoes and junk in my living room, unless, like now, I've just had a baby and am in need of running off a bunch of baby fat.
I hate cardio and I hate running. I am by no means a runner and have no desire to be. But I refuse to let myself go because I've had babies, and I understand that running is a fast and effective way to melt fat off my bod, and if that's what it takes, I will do it. I want to wear my clothes again!
I'm dying to return to hot yoga- but I know I just couldn't hang with that yet. Not just the yoga part, but the stamina it takes to hang in a hot yoga flow class. I imagine attempting some of the asanas I had worked my way into by the time I found out I was pregnant and I think I would just drop dead if I tried right now... that and I can't fit into any of my yoga clothes.
Yep, I enjoyed sitting around on my ass and eating cupcakes and ice cream while I was pregnant, and it certainly took its toll on me.
I enjoyed not feeling obligated to exercise- although I probably should have, I didn't care. I spent the first trimester sick as hell, with fast food being the only thing I could stomach. By the second trimester, that cute middle part where you are feeling better, have energy and are only slightly showing, I got put on pelvic rest and was ordered not to do any physical activity at all if I could avoid it. Then the third trimester I was just so huge and uncomfortable that you couldn't pay me to walk down the driveway to get the mail, let alone walk for the sake of walking.
I decided that pregnancy is one of the few times that you can get away with straying away from your normally more limited diet and regular exercise routine without feeling guilty. I applaud all the women out there who stick to regular exercise and eating super healthy the whole 9 months. Bravo! I wish your discipline and will power were contagious and you would have sneezed in my face, because despite any and all my good intentions and plans- I have accepted the fact that I am just a lazy pregnant person.
And oh, how it hurts me on that treadmill now. When I run, I can feel the cupcakes and ice cream weight bouncing around on my ass and it grosses me out (and probably grosses you out too reading about it. Ugh!).
Nursing boobs hurt when running too (note to self: better sports bra STAT)... I hate them and am looking forward to when they deflate again.
But I told myself, around week 33 or so when I started getting super uncomfortable, that when I could move normally again, I wouldn't take for granted the energy and mobility that you have when aren't pregnant. Pregnancy really gave me a whole new appreciation for this vessel I operate on a day to day basis.
Going from not being able to get up off the floor to being able to tough out a 45 minute haul on the treadmill hurts so good really. When it starts to get rough on there, I always think back to being 41 weeks pregnant and how it hurt to walk at even a snail's pace- and I feel re-energized.
I also had my baby naturally, without drugs- a personal goal I've always had for myself. Obviously that kind of pain is not for everyone- and I would go so far as to say that that kind of pain isn't really for anyone, myself included. But hey- why not kick it old school? Our mothers did it, and our grandmothers too. My grandma delivered 8 healthy children without an epidural, and my mother had my brother and I without it too. Call me a bit of a sadist I guess, but I was excited to follow in suit.
I've been called crazy for doing so, but I believed that if I could endure natural childbirth, then I could endure just about anything I try to do and anything life might throw my way.
I was right. Delivering an 8 and a half pound baby without drugs was the most empowering thing I've ever done and I'd do it again in a second (and my girl parts are instantly frightened as I write that).
Remembering that helps me tough things out when I start to feel overwhelmed- not just by exercise, but with my patience and confidence and everything else that poses as a challenge to me. High five for challenges!
