Training began March 1, 2013. Baby girl was about to turn 4 months old. It wasn’t a good day to run. We weren’t sleeping through the night yet. My body was still in shock from 9 months of pregnancy followed by childbirth. And there was snow on the ground. Yep, it was the perfect day to punch my excuses in the teeth and run already.
I couldn’t even run for 20 minutes. Imagine swinging your arms in such a way as to create enough momentum to pull yourself off the ground since the rest of your body wasn’t able to manage it otherwise. That was me. And I walked at the 10 minute mark. I. Had. So. Far. To. Go.
My first several runs went just like that. Ugly. Painful. Humbling. But I made my commitment to this thing. It had to get better at some point. And slowly, but surely, it did.
I ran my first post-baby girl 5K in April. And it wasn’t very pretty. There were all these people who knew my Ironman hubby cheering for me. I felt like I had “represent”, ya know? No lie, my heart rate was in the 170’s for almost the entire thing. I thought I might die.
I crossed the finish line and held my 5 month old reminder that I should be crazy proud of myself. And you better believe I was.