Now you have to understand something, I am not a runner. At all. I was the chubby, asthmatic kid in gym class that the teacher would yell at to "pick up the pace". After years of being forced to in gym class, I only ran if I was being chased.
In high school, I couldn't put down my smokes long enough to even think about physical fitness. In nursing school I thought about working out but between clinicals, care plans and working full time, my health came last. Back then, running would have never even entered my mind. EVER. That would make me sweat, right? Drink water? I was fueled by Mt. Dew.
So I have been extremely unhealthy for years now. Sugar, love it. Pop, crave it. Exercise , hate it. Before the last two babies were born I had tried the Couch 2 5 K program and ended up pregnant both times. Now after the third and final baby (will be VERY officially done this week), I was able to leave my full time nursing job. When this happened, Mr. CE told me in the passing to make the most of it, so I started trying to.
Not working, I finally wanted to do all the things I never had time for...me. Eight weeks postpartum I started going to the gym, seeing a trainer and attempting to lose weight. As of right now I have lost all baby weight +5 pounds. That doesn't matter to me though. What matters to me is that I am going and I can feel myself getting stronger. In January I could barely do a push up, sit up or run on a treadmill. Now I make them my bitch and I enjoy them all.
Now feeling stronger, I signed up for my first 5k and had a month to train. On March 6th, I laced up and hit the pavement and DIED. I couldn't run a quarter mile without stopping. A week later, when all my people were sleeping I went back out and did more. Then the next time I pushed myself more. Soon, I was waking up before my alarm, would feed the baby and go sneak out in the dark for another run. One morning I ran my first straight mile in 12 minutes. I had a high. As I was trying to find the right pace, stride, etc. My fists opened up, I took a deep breath and at one point I couldn't tell the difference between my sweat or the early morning dew. What a feeling. I wanted more.
Trying to find the time to run is hard, it all depends on the baby's sleep schedule and well I can't depend on that, can I ? Some days I didn't get to go out when I had wanted, but I would keep trying the next day. Next run, I did 2 miles straight and on March 25th I pushed it to 3 miles. THREE MILES in three weeks of running? Yes, yes I did.
I have given birth to three babies, two naturally and I have never been as proud of myself as I was that morning of running 3 miles in 42 minutes. NEVER. You know you have to birth the babies, they have to come out but you don't HAVE to run.
For the first time in my adult life, I was PROUD of myself.
That is a feeling that I never want to forget and dammit, I want to feel it more...
(my 5 k was this weekend, the post got too long more to come)