June 2013 – Not a Jogger

When is it going to get easier?

Hmm?

I ran a couple of times last week but didn’t feel like writing about it.

It was literally nothing to write home about – the same as the final run of my first week back: ok for 15 minutes, painful for 20 minutes, slow slow slow.

My legs were heavy and after Thursday’s effort my left ankle was swollen around the Achilles’ tendon.
I decided to rest for a week and went swimming and walked instead. Basically I was back to being pregnant for a week, but without the license to pig out.

Yesterday I tried again and, guess what? It was exactly the same, with a slightly less swollen ankle afterwards.

Ugh. I really shouldn’t complain, but I thought I would see progress faster. I suppose I thought it would only take four weeks to get back to running to Regent’s Park at weekends. At this rate I’ll be lucky to finish a circuit of Finsbury Park without having to walk.

There are positives: my fitness is good, I’m still motivated, it’s great to be out there again and my kit is starting to fit better. On the downside: it really hurts!

Returning to running: week one

Things I have learned in my first week of running after having a baby:

1. Running will not make you more tired. You are already so tired that would not be possible.

2. The first run will be the best. The second and third runs will hurt a lot more so if the first run is agony it’s probably a good idea to wait a few days before attempting a second, or go for fast/hilly walk instead to get your muscles working.

3. The week that you are (sadly) stopping breastfeeding is not a good week to go running. At least not without a sports bra several sizes larger than your usual one, and a whole lot of painkillers.

4. Walking is great preparation for (or replacement for) running in the first weeks after birth, and in late pregnancy. My muscles still feel strong despite not having run for 6 months thanks to lots of walks.

5. Your running gear will be tight and your belly will wobble. You will feel like people are staring but, if they do, you can shout “I just birth to a human being, what’s your excuse?”

6. It is great that you don’t wet yourself mid-run but that doesn’t mean your pelvic floor is back to normal. Try doing some star jumps and you’ll see what I mean.

7. Don’t work too hard to fit your run in to your day. Something will probably have to be sacrificed but it shouldn’t be your sleep, your dinner or your sanity. You could eat a ready meal though, and does the baby really need a bath? She smells lovely to me.

8. Don’t try and write a blog about your running at 4am. Even if you manage not to publish a blank or half written version (sorry about that) what you do manage to write will not make sense to anyone, including you when you read it the next day.

And for my second run, back to earth with a bump

Ow.

Oh the first run is bliss, isn’t it? Yes you are short of breath and tight of lungs, but your body is loose and free. You could turn cartwheels on the beach on a windy day.

Oh but the second run – the second run demands you pay the price for those cartwheels. You are not 12 years old; your 30-something limbs will not spring straight back into action. Your actions have consequences and those consequences involve pain.

I ran on Sunday, felt fine afterwards and okay, maybe a bit stiff, on Monday. On Tuesday I noticed a bit more stiffness in the legs. As I went about my now daily routine of carrying, walking and rocking the baby, my knees were a bit creaky but nothing terrible. I was looking forward to the baby/freedom handover when Mr Notajogger got back from work. At 5pm I started putting on running kit a piece at a time.

By 6.15pm I was out on the street, ready to go. By 6.16pm I was ready to cry. The first few steps were agony – my hamstrings felt five inches too short, my knees were jelly. I stopped to stretch, ran a bit more, stopped to stretch, ran a bit more… For thirty minutes.

It was a terrible run. I made it round a (short) circuit of Crouch End but only just. When running up the one hill I didn’t walk, I felt like I was going backwards. Everyone was overtaking me: runners; walkers; a man on a mobility scooter.

I know it will get better. It had better.

‘I am the Resurrection and I am the Light’, or, I Had the Baby and Went for a Run

Today I went for one of the most important runs of my life.

The day was nothing special: overcast, still, and cool for June. My running was poor: slow and careful, 35 minutes with a little break to catch my breath after 20. The route was an old one, to Finsbury Park, though the grass was newly littered with bottles and cans from last night’s Stone Roses concert.

Nothing was special, but everything was different. On 30th April 2013 I had a lovely baby girl and I have a feeling that running, like many things, will never be the same again.

For the last six weeks (well, for the last six months), I’ve thought about this run everyday. In labour, in hospital stuck inside for the fourth day, in the shower at home contemplating my strange deflated tummy, in bed awake at 3am, in exhaustion, in happiness and in stress. I have waited for this moment, placed so much importance on it, that when it came, when I decided it was time, I realised I was shaking. Lacing up my trainers, feeling their unfamiliar stiffness from months of neglect, I shook with nerves. What if it wasn’t how I remembered? What if I couldn’t do it? What if I didn’t enjoy it?

I don’t know why I worried. I mean, it’s me. It’s running. I left the house and within twenty steps it was just the same. It didn’t matter how many steps I took, or how fast I took them. Every step I took was one closer to feeling like myself again. My muscles were tired and my lungs were sore but I wasn’t pregnant! When I asked my body to do something, it responded. I could see my feet, move my hips and run up hills (slowly, but I could do it).

I have a long way to go until I’m fit again. Finding the time and energy to run will be hard, but I will find it. Running makes me happy. It’s part of who I am. It makes me me.

In 35 minutes I didn’t think about my daughter once. Should that make me feel guilty? I was just a body moving through space. My brain was free.

Being a parent is a massive responsibility and a huge privilege. Running is freedom. I hope the two will get along nicely together.