Running into problems

So I had the inevitable conversation with my mum about running in pregnancy.

I haven’t been lying to her, I just haven’t actually told her I’m running and she hasn’t asked. That is, she hadn’t asked. On Sunday night she was still crying with joy from hearing about the me feeling the baby kick for the first time when she sobbed out, “You’re not running, are you?”.

What could I do? I couldn’t lie to her, she’s my mother. I’m not 16 trying to deny a visit to the pub. I’m a 37 year old woman doing something I believe is good and healthy. Still, it didn’t go well. She loves me and she wants the best for me, and I love her and I want the best for her. I just don’t think that has to involve not running.

On Monday morning I had planned to run before work. The alarm went off. Mr Notajogger got up for his run.  I heard the sound of rain on the windows. I thought about my mum. I hit snooze.

This morning I planned to run before work. The alarm went off. Mr Notajogger did not get up for a run. I heard the sound of rain. I thought about my mum. I got up, put my kit on and left the house.

I ran very slowly, perhaps more carefully than normal. I avoided slippery piles of leaves. I tried to avoid puddles, with mixed success. I walked for a few minutes half way around my circuit.

I don’t feel triumphant about my run. I don’t feel guilty either. Ok, maybe I feel a little bit guilty.

Sitting here at my desk thinking about it, I’m aware that I haven’t sorted it out in my brain yet. I wish there was some proper research out there I could quote to my mum to make her feel better, but there really isn’t. Even if there were, it wouldn’t be into my pregnancy, or my baby, or my running, so I don’t think it would help.

I want to be a good mother, but my mother is a good mother. So what does that make me?

The baby has been kicking me all morning, reminding me that everything is fine.

It is fine, I think.