Yesterday at 7 and a half weeks post-partum, I picked up my running shoes and went out for a run.
No I didn't, of course I didn't, because as any of you mums will know, once you've had a baby the whole process of picking up anything and walking out of the door, just like that, is a long distant memory.
Let me take you back a little. Since I was a teenager, I have exercised and run regularly, and loved it. Yes i'm one of those annoying people that genuinely mean that. Before getting pregnant I used to think "well once i've had a baby it will be easy to get my body back, I will just juice and run with the pram, simple". WRONG. I don't have enough hands to get the juicer out from the depths of the cupboard, let alone set it up, complete any type of weekly fruit and veg shop without Alba screaming the supermarket down, let alone wash up the damn thing when i'm finished.
Juice. Rant. Over.
But the running thing I thought I might be able to crack.
So after mentally preparing myself for about a fortnight, the day had come. I had to grab the "perfect moment" which basically meant cluster feeding all afternoon, a big poop and some more to top up = one sleepy baby. Success! Next I had to find my gym clothes, and here came the humiliation. How small were my clothes!? Squeezing my new breastfeeding bust into my old sports bras was laughable, as was finding a pair of the tiniest running shorts I have ever seen, did I really used to fit in those???! Wail.
Ok, so we were ready. One full, clean, sleepy baby. One squished, shamed, dressed Mama.
Next comes the pram saga. What do I need to take on a 20minute run? Everything? Nothing? I usually take a bag the size of a weekend holdall everywhere I go. What if she poo's all over herself? Projectile vomits? Where would I change her anyway, in the middle of a field? Why are these decisions so hard? I finally decide on taking one large swaddle muslin to hide her little face from the sun and dual-act as a bodily functions shield. And keys. And a mobile phone.
But then, she wakes up. One eye, the other eye, that screwed up face. tears. Why did I take so long at sports bra gate?
WHITE NOISE! Yes the hoover, god I love the hoover. It worked.
So off we went, pram in tow with the hoover noise full volume pouring out, much to the confusion of passers by. We made it to the park. Grass is no good for running with a buggy FYI, poor little buba's head is too fragile. Need concrete. We left the park and took to the streets, and we were running. Yippee! Her face was a picture looking at me, drunk on white noise wondering what the hell Mummy was doing. After 20 minutes of me stop starting, and her staring wide eyed, she dropped off to sleep and I jogged on home sweaty, tired and exhilarated by the small but really quite mammoth task we had a achieved together.
All the fuss and hilarity was worth it though, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was on the long road back to feeling like me again, and I had the cutest running partner of all time.
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