Saturday, June 27, 2009

9 months up

There's a saying about pregnancy weight - nine months up, nine months down. I am lucky (um, and I work my ass off, literally) that I've always lost my pregnancy weight quickly, but I have to constantly remind myself of this maxim. Your body really takes a beating during pregnancy (mine does, anyway) and even though I am at my goal weight, things are still easing back to where they used to be. And let's face it, I'll be happy if some things end up in the general vicinity of where they used to be.

The problems I have been having with my hip are slowly resolving on their own, which is great, since I still have not managed to find the time to actually schedule a physical therapy appointment. But my running hiatus continues. Partly because of the hip, but mostly because I haven't quite figured out how to be a running mom of two.

The double BOB mostly sits folded in the garage, as Max will only ride in it for limited amounts of time. The Supportive Husband, while still supportive, has registered his strong objection to my 5:30 am Saturday wakeups, and that objection has been duly noted. The nature of his work means that he is often working until 11pm or later on Saturday nights, so having been rousted at 5am by my alarm, and then again at whatever ungodly hour one or both kids decide to wake up is pretty tough on him. And to be quite honest, the last thing I want to do on a Saturday morning is get up at 5:30 to pump. I burned out on pumping when Max was about 8 months old, and it did not regain its luster the second time around. And truth be told, Sami is not the sleeper he was. Most nights, I am up with her at 3am for a quick snack and cuddle. 5:30 comes awfully fast.

So where does that leave me? Squeezing in a run/walk after work in the blazing heat. Squeezing in 20 minutes on the treadmill during my lunch hour. Basically, trying to maintain a bare minimum fitness level so that once Sami is weaned, I can consider doing a spring race.

The not running hasn't been so bad, but it has been difficult to not have a "thing." A thing where I don't have to be someone's mom. A thing that has a goal that isn't work related. A thing that is mine - my dreams, my achievements, my time. I am still figuring out this dance of being a mom of two, but as my bones shift back to where they used to be, I hope my thing will start to take shape again. I need my thing back. And I think it's going to take at least nine months to get it.