For the past eight years or so, running has been a huge part of my life. I’ve run one full marathon, ten half-marathons and numerous other races of various distances. That’s not to say I’ve always loved it. It’s always been much more of a love/hate relationship, but a relationship nonetheless.
People ask me all the time, “Are you still running?” And I feel like I kind of always sheepishly answer no. I always wanted to be one of those runners who still runs even though she looks like she has a bowling ball under her shirt. But it wasn’t in the cards. Truth be told, I didn’t really run during my first trimester because I was scared. After going through a miscarriage last year (which had nothing to do with running, but whatever), I just didn’t want to risk anything that would be hard on my body.
And then in the second trimester, when I felt more comfortable mentally, it began to not feel so great physically. Well, the few times I even tried to run, that is. I didn’t really give it much effort. Speeds that I formerly felt were super slow felt like I was sprinting and I just didn’t feel right.
But it was this past weekend, when I did my slowest 5K ever, that I really came to the realization that I’m not going to be a runner during this pregnancy. I guess I kept thinking I would somehow pick it back up, even ever so slightly, at some point. The discomfort that I felt after that 5K is probably (according to a nurse) round ligament pain and if running is going to exacerbate it, I’m not even going to try. It’s not bad for the baby, but I don’t want to be in pain. It’s pain that I’m already getting from standing up from my chair too quickly. (Oddly enough, pretty much only at the office.)
It’s not that I really even miss running for running’s sake because sometimes I hate it, but I miss training for a fall race, embracing the cooler temperatures and feeling good after I up my mileage.
Maybe next fall, I’ll look like this again. Or maybe I won’t be such a dork anymore.
I guess there’s always the elliptical.