Almost every morning, I see a runner striding past our house. I'm so jealous as I gaze longingly that I'm sure my skin starts to turn green. Due our fertility treatments, it has been almost a year since I've run. Once we got pregnant, we committed that it wasn't worth the risk for me to start again. So, throughout the pregnancy MacKenzie & I used the elliptical machine daily. Despite my best attempts and hopes (3.5 hours of pushing & hypnobirthing classes), we did end up needing to delivery MacKenzie with a c-section. I was so unprepared for the aftermath.
Most frustrating to me: how unready by body was for exercise for weeks. Two weeks ago, I teared up during an episode of "The Biggest Loser" because they were able to workout so hard. I was finally released by my doctor to start exercising, but it's a slow go. MacKenzie and I have been enjoying long walks. However, the winter weather is starting to curb us a bit. I'm back at the gym on most days and on the elliptical machine. It's bittersweet. I remind myself that three weeks ago I couldn't even do this. I remind myself that my body has been through a lot. I try to cherish the fact that I'm finally actually able to move quickly enough on the elliptical to start sweating.
Yet, I dream of running. I have songs on my workout (running) iPod mix that remind me of moments on the road during training or the Boston marathon. It gives me the chills. I close my eyes and picture myself putting one foot in front of the other without a care. I pretend that my stomach doesn't feel like a lump of heavy potatoes. I picture myself pushing MacKenzie in the jogging stroller that is waiting for us (her neck/my body) to be ready.
I wasn't blessed with the gift of patience. I'm learning this skill whether I want to or not.
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