I was in labor for twelve hours. Twelve long, excruciatingly painful hours.
Here I am, day in and day out, trying to run a measly six miles. Then I come across this article recounting the story of a pregnant mom (38 weeks, five days) who ran the Chicago marathon whilst in labor. Her contractions started before the race, she ran half way and walked the other half (doctor’s orders) and immediately following the race she went to the hospital where she gave birth.
You can read the full story here.
That’s just craziness!
I convince myself every day that running is a piece of cake compared to labor and birthing and then here’s a mom who did all three in one day! And she ran more than twice as far as I’ve ever gone in my life! This woman deserves a gold star, a statue erected in her honor, and a federal holiday dedicated to her.
There are several things I would like to accomplish before I’m 40. Yes, I said it. Before I’m 40. I would like to compete in 10k’s, half marathons and marathons. Most importantly, I would like to have run the Boston Marathon at least once. I would also like to be done having children before I’m 35. That means I have four years left. If my husband and I choose to procreate, it basically needs to be now.
Oh, and I would like to summit Mt. Everest.
So during my run this morning, I imagined everything awful about labor. I imagined my water breaking, the size of my child’s noggin, the twelve hours of unrelenting pain. I imagined being pregnant and running throughout my entire pregnancy, up until my marathon finish at the end. And during this run, something happened. I decided that labor wasn’t so bad. Pregnancy wasn’t that bad either. And if both were, I could suck it up for another nine months plus twelve hours, right? Oh, and add in the three to six months of incessant crying and lack of sleep. But what is that anyway? A blip in time.
Sure, I’ll miss my abs that I’ve actually never seen before until the last couple of months. Yes, I will miss my ankles as they are sure to be replaced with cankles. I will definitely miss my non-pregnancy clothes.
It truly amazes me the metamorphosis the human body endures throughout a lifetime. My body went from a teenage hard-ass smoker, to an overweight non-smoker, to an overweight pregnant woman, to an overweight woman, to the most fit, trim and healthy body I’ve ever had. It was extremely difficult going through all of those changes. But I did it. My body, the human body, is an amazing instrument. It changes, transforms, adapts. This life-changing journey has taught me that not only will my body adjust accordingly, but that I have the self control and discipline to kick my own ass back into shape.
So here I am with this huge epiphany while I’m running my five miles this morning, that I could probably stand to have another child. And I’m set on telling my husband about said epiphany. I finish my run, I’m sweating and stinky. I run upstairs to shower. I come back downstairs just as breakfast-time-with-toddler chaos ensues.
My husband leaves for work. Darn.
Silver lining? I’m sure I will change my mind by tomorrow morning’s run.
