Running and Running on Empty

Among the harsher courtrooms of our world is the mother's heart, in which she stands as Accused and Accuser, Jury and Judge.  She tries herself for many things, over and over again, with the verdict more often than not being "Guilty as Charged."  The charges themselves matter little, for a mother will invent charges where none exist and exaggerate them where they do - so that a simple trip to the grocery store becomes abandonment and a cup of coffee while breast-feeding becomes child endangerment.  But don't worry...  I have no plans to keep us at the computer for a week listing all the things for which a mother might condemn herself as A Horrible Mother.  Instead, I want to address one area, not wholly related to motherhood, but which seems a common burden among mothers I know:  Physical Fitness.

I had composed two lengthy paragraphs describing my fall from "skinny, active girl" to "harried mother of four who'd like to lose the rest of the weight she put on during her last pregnancy, if only she had more time, energy, motivation, etc.," but upon further consideration decided it would be less tedious just to say that things aren't what they used to be.  It would be unrealistic to expect them ever to be exactly what they used to be, but I have held onto the hope of someday exchanging "harried" for "fit."  Besides, it really isn't all about being Miss Skinny-Minny, though I wouldn't complain about that, but about being active again.

The thing is, since my third child came along, all the walking I used to do became nigh unto impossible.  When Andrew and John were little, I could strap them into the double stroller and walk all over town, which is just what I did.  Then came Elisabeth.  If you've never tried pushing a stroller while walking with a five year old and a three year old, imagine maintaining a steady pace with a cheetah in pursuit of prey on one leash and a Galapagos tortoise on another leash.  It is ugly and wholly exasperating to a woman trying to restore her girlish figure.  It's even worse when you throw in a fourth baby and are trying to manipulate an old double stroller while ensuring that neither of your older children runs his bike into the street or falls helplessly behind or rushes too far beyond view or...  or...  or...  Yeah.  No fun.

At some point after Luke's birth, when I decided I should have regained a decent level of activity and lost all of the baby weight, I marched myself into the courtroom mentioned above, and began accusing myself of slothfulness and defending myself against the same.  Shortly after his second birthday, when the jury was nearing a verdict of Guilty of Complete and Hopeless Slothfulness with No Hope of Redemption, a little bit of clear thinking saved the day.  My sister, wise and wonderful woman who might be reading this, remarked that sometimes fitness just isn't top priority and that's okay.  She didn't say it as an excuse, but as a statement of reality.  Fitness is important, but it can't always be our first priority.  Many things demand a mother's time, and while it is wonderful when fitness has its own special place in a woman's life, sometimes it's just not feasible.  When you are faced with several (or even one, because sometimes numbers don't matter at all) small children  who rely upon you for their physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual well-being; dishes, laundry, toys, and other miscellaneous items threatening to flood your entire home; a husband hoping to be greeted cheerfully at the day's end; and your own body pleading for just... a... little... more...  sleep, the idea of exercising with any consistency can seem like a cruel, cruel joke.  Not that it's unimportant, but there are times when the threat of anything else creeping onto an already full plate is enough to shatter one's sanity.

So when my sister confidently told me that when the time was right, exercise would make it onto my plate, I had some reconsidering to do.  First, I realized that it was okay to wait, and I need not take myself to court over it.  Second, I realized that I am not a lazy, slothful person by nature.  While not particularly athletic, I have for as long as I can remember been active.  Childhood bike rides and neighborhood roller-skating gave way to long walks, swimming, and biking in my teens and early twenties.  Even after the births of our first two children, I walked.  And still, when given the chance, I enjoy a good walk.  Good walks, though, are a little harder to arrange when homeschooling takes up a chunk of the day and I have a cheetah and tortoise to take along.  That may sound like an excuse - "I'd like to exercise, but blah, blah, blah..." but in my brain, if not coming across in this paragraph, the realization that Life had changed more than I had filled me with hope.  Life had changed, and I was confident it would change again.

And it did.  Maybe I forced the change, having been encouraged to hope that it would come.  At any rate, I finally looked into a running plan I'd heard about from several people.  (As an aside, I've noticed with a lot of things that I have to hear about something several times before venturing a peek myself.  I think my children are not the only ones who are slow to warm up to new things!)  And now for a shameless plug...

I LOVE THE COUCH-TO-5K RUNNING PLAN!!!!  

http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/index.shtml

With the exception of a brief fourth grade dream of running the Boston Marathon, running has never, ever been a favorite of mine.  In fact, in recent years, I have said that the only way you'll catch me running is if a rabid bear is after me.  When my wise and wonderful sister recommended this plan, I looked at it and then forgot about it for um...  a couple years.  Recently, it kept popping up on Facebook and my sister recommended it again.  So one fateful Tuesday, I stepped on the treadmill and began what is becoming an obsession.  If you are nervous about running, let me assure you that this is a very gentle, but effective plan.  In six weeks, it took me from being terrified of running to viewing a 25 minute run as a glorious way to end a long, tiring day.  Okay, I admit that sometimes I pretend I'm running away from home when I get on the treadmill, but hey... I always feel great -and happy not to be on the other side of town - when the treadmill stops.  Sometimes, it's hard not to observe a day of rest between runs.  I still have a way to go to reach the level of fitness I'd like, but running has found its spot on my plate, and I've discovered I love it too much to push it to the side.  All of this goes to show me that no, I am not a lazy oaf of a woman after all.  Case closed.

As I've thought about what to write on this subject, I've begun to view the woman I've been for the last two years not as an enemy, but a friend - a nurse, if you will, enlisted to see me through Luke's infancy, to keep me from overexerting myself, and to teach me a little about balance, priorities, and timing.  I think if I had begun this running thing a year ago, it would have ended in severe discouragement.  Running on empty is hard enough.  Running while running on empty has to be even harder.  I can't recommend it.  I have a lot more to learn about balance, priorities, and timing, of course, but I feel like I made it through a pretty demanding phase of our family's life and can now move forward a little less encumbered by the demands of life with an infant, toddler, and two more and a little more lighthearted having recaptured a little bit of the girl I used to be.