Training – …and she runs.

February 13, 2015February 13, 2015

It’s not like I’ve never done this before

I’ve run half marathons before.

But even so, I’m incredibly nervous about running a half marathon tomorrow.

This will be my 25th half marathon since 2011. I’m completely aware some people run more than that in a year. But this one is the first one I’ve had a complete training cycle for, a ramp up, a taper down, etc. since my daughter’s birthday.

Even with that, I don’t have a “goal time” because of my treadmill training. But I’m hopeful I’ll do OK, at least.

I remembered today when I used to run to wear the cool race shirts. My husband picked up my shirt yesterday at pre-race packet pickup. It’s really fun.

So I’m playing some mind tricks on myself today to ease my pre-race anxiety. I’m telling myself I’m not running for time. I’m just running to wear the shirt. And I’ll wear it all day after the race is over.

Because it’s really, really cool.

That takes away the pressure, right?

January 8, 2015January 11, 2015

A new direction

After my daughter was born last April, I decided I wasn’t going to turn this blog into a space about being a mom. People close to me asked the question throughout my pregnancy. I stayed firm and said that while my posts would include my adorable offspring, I wasn’t going to fall into the trap.

This would not be a mommy blog.

The problem is that I had become a mom. The moment my daughter was handed to me the first time I fell head over heels in love with her.

And suddenly everything became about her. If not about her, I was thinking about her.

When I went back to work in August, I had a full four months off with Cecilia. It was so very hard and so easy to go back all at the same time.

It was easy because I finally felt as if I had some “me” time after spending nearly every waking moment with her since the moment she was born. I’ve been teaching for five years. My job goes beyond the typical lecture, lab, test, correct, etc. I supervise the campus newspaper and news website. In the spring, I was pulled out of work two hours after we sent our pages to the publisher for the fifth issue of the semester. Five days later, Cecilia was here after I was induced at exactly 37 weeks.

I missed six weeks of the school year. I missed two issues with a staff. Those were the first issues I didn’t directly supervise since August 2010.

I was happy to see my staff. I was excited to get back to work.

But my body yearned for my baby. My C-section scar hurt.

I remember coming home and scooping her up from my mother in law as quickly as I could.

And on that day, I knew two things: I couldn’t be me anymore without being a mom.

So I had to make a choice. I had to decide whether or not I was going to continue this blog or let it completely die out, just keeping it as an archive of my marathon training and three years of my running. As much as it pained me to think killing it off was a good idea, the thought crossed my mind.

Then it took a backseat to work. During weeks my students produce a newspaper, I’m on campus 30-plus hours. I’m a part-time employee, so those weeks are particularly hard for childcare. I thank everything that I have a loving family that watches my daughter for free so I don’t have to leave her with people she doesn’t know and it doesn’t hit my pocketbook drastically.

That means, though, that during the weeks my students aren’t putting out a newspaper, I’m working on WordPress websites on a freelance basis. When you stare at WordPress-based PHP, diagnose problems and generally maintain more than 50 websites on a regular basis, it’s easy to get fatigued by it.

Bottom line: I didn’t have the time or energy to blog.

Because all the time and energy I had left goes to my daughter.

Every time I felt an inkling to blog, I stopped myself because I’d be writing about Cecilia. Because I’m her primary caregiver. But more because she’s the biggest part of my life.

So I’m not going to fight it anymore.

I can’t.

And it was foolish for me to think I’d be able to.

But in the process of really getting into the flow of being a working mom after four months home with my newborn, I’m also woefully out of shape. I ran two more half marathons after the San Francisco Marathon Second Half Marathon last year – the Ventura Half Marathon and the Big Sur Half Marathon.

At Ventura, I broke my femur. Because I WOULD break my femur right when I was starting to find my running stride again.

At Big Sur, I ran a strong ran, but finished in the 2:32 area. I know I’m far from where I was. I know I’m 20 pounds over my “marathoning” weight. I’m promising to take better care of myself in addition to my daughter this year.

That starts with taking this blog in a direction where I can talk about being a mom, running, fitness and, at times, my failures at all of those things.

August 8, 2014August 9, 2014

The long road back at the San Francisco 2nd Half

I told myself after I ran the Oakland Half Marathon in 2011 that once I finished I’d have at least one thing going for me: I would never have to run my first half marathon again.

Fast forward to July 27, 2014.

I felt as if I was running my first half marathon all over again. But without the appropriate training this time. And without the stamina and core support. Basically I was running my first half marathon as if I just woke up one morning and said: “Today is a good day to run 13.1 miles.”

In reality, I should have waited.

But at least I finished.

Ahhh, the early miles in Golden Gate Park where I was already falling apart. Can’t you see it in my face?

The morning started off well enough. We woke up on time. The baby’s bag was already ready. It took me about 45 minutes to get ready. We were out the door at a decent time for the hour-ish journey to San Francisco for my drop off point.

I tried to take a nap in the car and kind of did as my daughter fell asleep in her car seat. When I woke up, I realized my husband was taking a new route into the city. I looked at the time. I realized where we were and I had a moment of panic.

We weren’t going to make it.

It had been nine months since my last race and I realized my husband may have forgot how to be a race husband. By the time he got me to Golden Gate Park, he was on the wrong side of the end of the 1st Half Marathon. And, well, we were about eight blocks from the start.

With less than 15 minutes to my corral start, I had no choice but to run to the start, going right through the first half marathoners, and gunning it to the area where I was supposed to be about two minutes before my start time.

Needless to say, I was already slightly warmed up and ready to go by the time we started.

But then it all went downhill.

Actually, it went uphill and that was part of the problem.

Mile 1: 10:32 — This is misleading, the first part of this mile goes downhill, so it wasn’t as if I was trying too hard here. So this mile became my fastest. I had taken a Gu before we started after eating a peppermint Luna bar in the car.

Mile 2: 11:54 — This is more like it. The 2nd Half is a tougher course than most regular half marathons. I figured I’d average 12-minute miles. I could feel the incline here. I wasn’t ready for it at all. My legs were burning.

Mile 3: 13:21 — My legs were still burning. It was here that I was considering calling Thomas and telling him I was done. I’d had it. There would be no half marathon today. I did a Gu.

Mile 4: 11:49 — This area is one of the most beautiful of this half marathon. It moves around Stow Lake, which seems to go on forever.

Mile 5: 11:13 — Still going around Stow Lake here. My legs were starting to get tired here. I did a Gu.

Mile 6: —12:17 — The Gu wasn’t exactly working. In fact, nothing was working. I was exhausted. I think I should have ran a 10K instead.

Mile 7: — 14:09 — After getting out of the park, the course runs up Haight Street. It’s uphill for a good amount of time. In 2011, I struggled on this part because I suddenly felt as if I had to run to the bathroom. The problem was there is a huge drought of bathrooms along here. The SAME thing happened to me this year. So I was tired and had a stomachache.

Mile 8: 12:19 — Trying to pick it up. This would be my last mile at a decent pace.

Mile 9: 12:56 — My legs hurt. It was getting hot.

Mile 10: 12:44 — I had this “I hit 10! I can finish this thing!” moment just to realize that I had a 5K to go.

Mile 11: 13: 14 — I’m slogging at this point. My C-section incision started to ache a little. Then I knew I was in trouble.

Mile 12: —14:35 — Walking/running. Exhausted. Warm. Spent. My whole body hurts.

Mile 13: 13:49 — I texted my husband, which I never do. I basically told him I was slow. But I was finishing. I was tired. I needed water. And a nap. And a hug from my baby.

Mile .22: 11:10 — The deception of this race is that you can’t actually see the finish, because it’s around a corner a little bit, until right at the end. It’s kind of a cruel finality of the race.

Garmin time: 2:47:20

Chip time: 2:47:14

That nice image to the right is one of the free ones that the San Francisco Marathon offered this year. All I had to do was “like” a page on Facebook to download them. I love that. I’m only used to that at much smaller races.

I collected my medal, walked through the finish line shoot in mostly a daze, then started looking for my husband. He was near the finish line with baby girl and a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers, my favorite.

I think it’s fair to say I THOUGHT I was ready for this race. I truly wasn’t. My total mileage for July was 75. I’m already nearly halfway there for August.

I didn’t have the base going in. I felt strong because I’d had some eight and 10 mile runs over the course of four weeks, but not enough constant mileage to feel good running a half marathon.

But I’m glad I went out there and did it, even if the last half of it was a painful memory of blur to me.

To remedy the experience, though, I’m upping my mileage. In the past seven days, I’ve done a nine-mile run, a five-mile run and a six-mile run. The later two runs were at a faster pace on the treadmill. My goal is to do more mid-length runs, as much as I can, in the coming weeks before the Ventura Half Marathon, which I’m running with one of my best friends.

I don’t have a time goal in that specific race because it’s my friend’s first half marathon. I’ll be running with her, though I have a feeling she’ll be pacing me at some point.

I kept telling myself that I could do this if I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. But in reality, the 2nd Half Marathon in San Francisco showed me that I have a long way to go to really be “back” to half marathoning.

August 1, 2014August 9, 2014

Catching up (+ the San Francisco Marathon expo)

So … my blog had a major issue this past weekend. I spent Friday-Monday trying to get it restored. It took a call, several support tickets and a bunch of anguish on my part to bring it back. I lost one of my personally managed sites in the process. It was all sorts of sadness for me, especially because I truly thought I’d lost my daughter’s birth story (even though I had backed up the database).

In the time my site was down, I made my not-so-triumphant return to half marathoning.

On Saturday, I ran the 2nd Half Marathon of the San Francisco Marathon. On a course where I ran a 2:32 something in 2011, I barely pulled it together to run a 2:47:14.

It’s not my worst half, but it wasn’t my best.

I only had two goals, though:

Don’t pass out or die on the side of the road somewhere and have to call my husband, who would then have to drag the baby from wherever he was, to come get me.
Finish

Goals accomplished.

I’ll actually do a race report. This post is about the expo, which was moved from the Design District in San Francisco, which I wasn’t really a fan of, to Fort Mason, which is right down the road from Pier 39, the Aquatic Park and Ghirardelli Square.

Being that I had run the path numerous times, and after checking my route, I decided to run from BART.

But first for some background: My husband has every other Friday from work off. July 25 was his Friday off. So I figured he could watch baby girl while I made a “quick trip” to San Francisco. I live 59 miles from San Francisco, which isn’t a huge distance. But there is no such thing as a “quick trip” to the city. Because parking sucks. And I have to take the train to get in and get out. So it basically takes the entire day to get in and out.

So I pre-bought a parking permit, got to the train station at 10 a.m., got on the train, got to San Francisco, got off the train, and enjoyed a beautiful run along the Embarcadero.

That’s my route in comparison to the city. Since San Francisco is a seven-mile by seven-mile grid, a three mile run gets you pretty far.

Except I thought it was a two mile run. And I didn’t anticipate it would be so sunny in the city. So I ended up at Fort Mason with a horrible sunburn, waiting for the expo to open at noon for about 20 minutes.

The expo was kind of tucked away, down a hill. I ran along the back of Fort Mason, so I didn’t take a long staircase down to the building. I was probably the 100th person inside the expo. The hall seemed bigger and longer than the previous location. But the bibs and shirts were located all the way at the back of the hall.

I know this was strategic. In previous years, runners had to get those things first THEN go to the expo. I didn’t spend a lot of time in this particular expo the past couple years, so I get it. But I didn’t spend a lot of time at this one either.

I was there for probably 30 minutes.

Enough time to grab my number, my bag (which were actually clear plastic this year instead of the more durable, reusable ones we’ve had in previous years), my shirt and get out. I didn’t even sample anything.

I kind of had to get home to my baby.

That was the scene less than 20 minutes into the expo. There was a line of probably 1,000 people outside. The signage wasn’t too specific, even with numerous signs. The volunteers let me pick up a marathon shirt instead of a half marathon shirt. Then the half marathon shirt volunteers gave me the wrong size.

But, on a good note, the shirts were much, much better than last year’s horrible ones (which sucks because I ran the full last year).

That’s the front, which doesn’t include the ridiculous sponsor it’s had in the past two years. As much as I like races to have sponsors, that huge sponsor symbol was annoying.

The back was equally as nice.

I’ve never been so glad in my life that I ordered a large size shirt. I normally get mediums because I like the shirts to fit me a little more snugly when I run. Right now I’m still dealing with “belly overhang” which is hid, somewhat nicely, under my running capris, but I’m a but wider than before, so a large fits me just a little bit bigger than I’m normally used to.

The arms are a bit long, though. I’d rather have them long than the short ones from last year.

I was sweaty from running through the city, so I wasn’t feeling like browsing much. And I really just wanted to get home and get on the train to beat rush-hour traffic.

I did check out the Reva sportswear area.

Because of my aforementioned problem with some of my running shirts, I also opted to buy another long-sleeved shirt. It’s blazing hot outside right now, with humidity high, but I’m also trying to plan my winter running as that’s when I’m going to be cranking up my mileage.

I found this half marathon specific one that I loved.

So I bought it. Even though I probably didn’t really need it. I figure I can wear it to run the Big Sur Half Marathon, which I FINALLY registered for, this November.

It fits well. I wore it for part of the run on Sunday.

And that was it. I was ready to leave the expo. I had planned on running back to the train, but after I ran three miles there and knew I had a sunburn, and failed to bring sunscreen in my running backpack, I opted to hop on the bus back to the host hotel where the marathon was shuttling runners.

On the ride, I met the 1:45 half marathon pacer, a guy named Don. We talked about running, shoes and races. I love that runners are always so sociable with each other. It made me feel good about “coming back.”

July 14, 2014August 9, 2014

Breaking up with StrideBox

This is a classic case of “it’s not you, it’s me.”

I’ve had a StrideBox monthly subscription since last August. That’s when I received my first, exciting both. Since then, I got charged $15 for the box of goodies to come to my mailbox at the beginning of every month. My loot from my July box, which I received late last week, is above.

Last week, I went into the payment module and cancelled my August box and all future boxes.

StrideBox, you’re great, but it’s time we break up.

It’s not that I want to try other services or don’t believe in the value of what was sent. It’s that I picked the wrong 12-month period to be a subscriber. I don’t think I need to explain, but I will.

I received my first StrideBox the same month we found out we were expecting Cecilia.

My running went down tremendously my first trimester of pregnany. I only had “morning sickness” that involved throwing up twice. I felt horrible, generally all day, the rest of the fist 14 weeks or so. I ran so little that not even my stash of favorite Vanilla Bean Gu got used.

So I wasn’t up to trying out new products.

I can’t recall what exactly was in that first StrideBox, but I know I actually tried to use most of the contents. I ate the energy-type bars, which I normally do, but I gave away most of the other stuff, especially stuff which caffeine, which I was avoiding.

The problem is, I kept doing that as the months went on. When my friends stopped taking all the stuff, I ended up with a surplus of StrideBox goodies. A good problem to have? Not necessarily.

I feel bad that for $15 a month, I basically started a collection of running “stuff” that I wasn’t using because I wasn’t running much of anywhere.

When my energy can back during the second trimester and I started running again, though not far, I was still very conscious about what was going in my body. StrideBox never sent me anything I thought would harm the baby. That’s not it at all. I just didn’t want to experiment as I would have likely done if I wasn’t pregnant.

So I tried some things here and there, but generally things started ending up in a nifty shoe bag StrideBox included in one of my orders.

I considered cancelling the subscription in January when I realized, with all the pregnancy complications, that my running time would likely be more limited in the following months.

Then I, essentially, forgot about it.

Every month when I got a box, I’d stack it on top of the previous month’s box.

I had the February, March and April boxes all stacked together when the May box came after baby girl was born. When she was napping in one of those first two weeks after my C-section, I opened them all. I then asked friends if they wanted specific things. I put some away to give to people I knew would benefit from them.

Basically I ended up only using and appreciating 10 percent of the stuff I’d received in the past year.

The rest is still waiting for me.

That’s only a fraction of what I need to get through.

StrideBox sends a mix of really useful and not so useful stuff, depending on the month. (That’s a personal critique. What is useful to me may not be useful to another person and vice versa.) I have arm protectors for the sun from June. I had a running belt from a previous month that I just gave to one of my running buddies.

So when I received my July box and I saw that I received a nifty little water bottle and a bunch of hydration items, which I knew as very similar to last July’s StrideBox, I knew my run had ended.

It was time to cancel, mainly because I had so much stuff that hadn’t been used in he past year.

The $15 a month wasn’t the issue at all, though that does by me two 50 packs of the diaper’s Cecilia is currently wearing. Parent priorities I guess.

I was always impressed with the content of the boxes, but with pregnancy and my slow-going comeback, my happy days of receiving a StrideBox in the mail every month are now over.

It really is me StrideBox. I love this month’s box. I love the cool items that I have got to try. I love that I discovered some new things though you. I’m just not into you as much as I thought I’d be.

Let’s not make it awkward around mutual friends, OK?

June 18, 2014August 9, 2014

Counting down to my return to racing

My return to running hasn’t been easy, and not even for the obvious reasons.

First off, I’m going to count myself in the minority of new parents who get MORE sleep after welcoming a baby. I’ve been an insomniac since my first year of grad school. I rarely, if ever, sleep through the night. Instead I usually wake up four or five times, barely get back to sleep and then wake up again.

Right now? I put Cecilia down at 11:30 p.m. and sleep until she stirs at 5 a.m. I actually panic if she doesn’t wake me up (do mothers ever stop worrying about SIDS? Does everyone tap their child to see if he or she is still breathing?), so I wake up ready to grab her up and see what’s wrong with her.

But I sleep fairly soundly.

Instead I’m trying to work runs into my two-month old’s schedule. It means that I end up waiting for my husband to commute home before I can hop on the treadmill, if I’m lucky. It also means I’m missing runs when he gets off late because baby girl needs to maintain somewhat of a schedule.

As I type this I am trying to soothe her in her bouncy chair while I wait for my husband to get home so I can run. I never anticipated THIS before my problem. I always figured it would be something like being overtired, having no ambition, etc.

The time struggle is real.

So I’ve been fitting in two mile runs as often as I can. On Monday night I ran my best two miler since I was 30 weeks.

It brought some of my confidence back going into this weekend’s See Jane Run 5K in Alameda. I’ve run the half marathon portion of the race twice. This will be my first time running the 5K and my second year as an ambassador for the running store/race company.

Two good miles doesn’t necessarily translate into a solid 5K. But I’m hopeful I’ll feel OK. I’m hopeful that I’ll run strong, but likely not fast.

And I know I’ll be encouraged by a group of other women who have similar goals.

I’m still anxious. Even though I’ve done this race twice I’m nervous. I feel like it’s my first 5K all over again.

I haven’t raced since last fall. I, essentially, took two full seasons off of running and racing while pregnant. I don’t know how my body will react or what to expect from my legs. There’s a lot of uncertainty. (See how I’m psyching myself out already?)

I do know that the party at the end will, as always, be rocking. My Bay Area readers can still join in the festivities (including chocolate and champagne at the end!) and get 10 percent of registration by using my ambassador code: SJRAMB243

I also know that my little running ambassador is coming to cheer me on with my husband. I know she’s not old enough to understand what’s happening quite yet, but I hope this will be the first of many races she’ll be at the finish line for. I want her to see her mommy staying active. I want fitness to be a part of her life.

So while I’m nervous about getting to the start of my new role as a mother runner, I’m anxious to where the race will take baby girl and I.

May 19, 2014August 9, 2014

‘She was always the plan’ : Part I

There’s a confusing stupor that comes with being awoken after general anesthesia. In the same moment, you are there, waking up, but still very much “out.”

More than two days after I was induced to deliver my daughter, I was coming out of that haze very slowly without recollection of what had happened to me in the moments, hours and days before.

“She’s here,” my husband assured me. “And she’s fine.”

Then I heard her. It wasn’t a cry. It was more of a coo. She was happy. She was in her daddy’s arms. I opened my eyes to see my husband holding her close to him, his eyes watery.

I was overwhelmed with pain. I was awakened without pain meds flowing through me. I asked for what seemed like 30 minutes, to please have something because it hurt so bad. The rest is a blur.

I couldn’t sit up to hold her initially.

An oxygen mask was secured to my face.

The nurse fought me to keep it on. I finally ripped if off as my husband held my little girl — the baby who in reality shouldn’t have been born for three more weeks, who wasn’t quite ready to come out on her own — next to me.

All 19 3/4 inches and 8 pounds of her. Cecilia Carine. Our first child. Our daughter. Her first name chosen by her father. Her middle name an altered spelling of my grandmother’s name (and the way her Swedish brother produced it), who I always intended to name my first daughter after. Born at 37 weeks after a medical induction because of mild preeclampsia.

If I said it wasn’t what I had anticipated, it would be an understatement.

I had envisioned Kangaroo time with me. I had dreams about her being handed to me after being born, my husband cutting her umbilical cord, delayed cord clamping and a bunch of other things. I didn’t realize I had a “birth plan” until my birth plan was thrown out the window.

As much as I was overwhelmed by the love I felt for this very small person, I spent the first days with her torn apart emotionally about how I should feel about her debut in this world.

The pain runs deeper because Cecilia, even at five weeks, won’t breast feed. Another one of my plans ruined. Instead I’ve been pumping constantly to give her the benefits without having her recoil when I introduce a breast to her (yes, she does that).

I’ve had days where I feel like my body, the body that has pushed me through five marathons and even more half marathons, failed me at the eleventh hour. The pain fades with every milestone. And each day I become more and more smitten with my baby girl.

A NOT-SO-SUDDEN PROGRESSION

For all intents and purposes, I had a very healthy pregnancy. I had no morning sickness the first trimester. Instead I had severe nausea which meant that the first 10 weeks I lost 15 pounds.

My clothes fit really, really well that first trimester. I ate incredibly healthy too, particularly because I was worried about fitting into my bridesmaid dress at 19 weeks pregnant for my friend’s December wedding. By January, I had gained only 20 pounds, putting me only five pounds over my initial pre-pregnancy weight.

As I started teaching again, I noticed that with each passing class period my shoes were fitting more and more tightly. Then my wedding ring and college class ring started to get tight.

My arms and legs started to swell. My running had taken a pretty significant hit in the first trimester with all the nausea and fatigue. When my second trimester “feel good” period came, I hit the treadmill every couple days until my legs started looking more and more like balloons.

It was not a good look for me.

By week 27, I had stopped running mainly because baby girl decided to jump on my bladder whenever I got going.

As each week turned over (on Sundays) I noticed my hands, feet and legs were getting worse and worse. I called my insurance’s advice line numerous times. At 27 weeks I was admitted for observation because I started to see “floaters” and had a head ache that didn’t go away with over-the-counter medication.

At 32 weeks my doctor said we’d start doing “nonstress” tests every week for baby girl because of my history of diabetes, even though I didn’t have gestational diabetes. That weekend, I was back being monitored overnight at the hospital. My husband had to take a Monday off because we were there overnight for testing for a potential pre-eclampsia diagnosis. I did a 24-hour urinalysis. It came back elevated, but fine.

At 36 weeks I had a non-stress test and my blood pressure was so high my OB ordered me to go to the hospital immediately.

My mom came to get me and we ventured to the hospital, about 30 minutes (in traffic) away from where I live. I spent more than four hours being monitored. My blood pressure was somewhere around 165/90 or something like that. I can’t really remember. When it stabilized I was allowed to go home, with more tests to be completed.

I did another 24-hour urinalysis.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, I went to work. My students were finishing a 12-page issue of the newspaper. I didn’t want to miss it. I felt pretty miserable. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have been there. I look back on it now and can’t believe I worked through the week. I left school immediately Thursday after pages were sent to the publisher and went to my doctor for another nonstress test and a follow-up appointment from the hospital visit.

What I already knew: My test results showed that the protein in my urine had doubled in a two week period. That meant nothing good. I tried to mentally prepare for the worst, even though I didn’t know what “the worst” was. I knew one thing, baby girl was likely coming sooner than my husband and I expected.

THE DECISION

When I laid down on the bed for the non-stress test, the OB nurse did an ultrasound immediately. I thought that was a little weird. I asked her what it was for.

“I’m checking the baby’s size and position,” she said.

Baby girl was head down (she had been since 25 weeks). The non-stress test showed no problems for baby. I, on the other hand, was feeling really, really bad. I felt like my skin was crawling.

My appointment with my OB was scheduled for about 30 minutes after my test time. But the nurse led me into an examination room.

And I waited.

And waited.

For about 40 minutes after my appointment time, which is really uncharacteristic for my OB’s office. When my OB finally came in, she asked me whether my husband was with me. That’s when I knew this likely wouldn’t be good.

“We’re going to induce you at 37 weeks,” she said, matter of factually.

I thought about it for a minute, then it really hit me.

“That’s Sunday,” I said.

“Yes,” she said.

I left the office with paperwork, a number to call come Sunday and a lot of anxiety about what was going to happen. I also was ordered to be done with work as of that day, which meant no newspaper delivery with my students the next day. I had to stay off my feet the whole weekend, until Sunday.

We hadn’t even packed our bags yet …

February 23, 2014

This is not my body

body1

I don’t want the title to sound like a complaint. My husband likes to remind me that WE WANTED to have a baby. We consider this little girl a huge blessing. And we are incredibly excited to welcome her in a couple months. (Also: I look like crap in that picture. I don’t even care.)

What I didn’t know, though, was how difficult it would be to see my body change so dramatically in such a short time. My “baby belly” didn’t really show until December when I was a bridesmaid in a friend’s wedding. But I started feeling “pregnant” nearly immediately.

Consider my last long run before I found out. I was exhausted. I could barely keep my pace. I kept stopping and sitting down. What was supposed to be a 15-mile run turned into a 12-mile run when I just couldn’t go on anymore. I stopped my Garmin and walked back to my car, thinking, perhaps, I was just having an off day.

That weekend I took a pregnancy test and immediately suspended my marathon training. I had 15,18 and 20 milers on the schedule for my next three weekends after that. I took the test because I could barely get up in the morning. I was having problems staying awake during the day. I knew, only weeks into the first trimester, that there was NO WAY I would be able to run a marathon at the end of September.

The positive pregnancy test meant that I slowly started pulling away from the running world, and this blog, and retreat to my everyday life. Why? Because, despite signing up for a bunch of races in that first trimester, I kind of knew I wouldn’t be running long distances for awhile. If I would have accepted it earlier, I likely would have been able to unload some of those race entries.

I’m finding, though, that at 30 weeks, my body is betraying me more than I ever thought it would. Health worries I thought I didn’t have anymore and coming back. My body is changing daily now and I never know what to expect. It’s exciting, because it means she’s coming soon, but it’s also so foreign to be in a body I don’t feel like is mine anymore.

DIABETIC WORRIES

I haven’t been on medication for four years, but the fact that I once was comes up in nearly EVERY appointment with my OB. At the beginning, it frustrated me. Now it’s just part of life.

Early in my pregnancy, I was given a new glucose meter to measure my blood sugar. I hadn’t owned one since right after my husband and I bought our house in 2010 and I purged a ton of stuff.

I was supposed to use it four times a day. But my hands started mildly swelling, and I couldn’t get any blood out. None. I would massage my fingers, put a rubber band around the finger I was poking, run my hands under hot water, etc. Nothing worked. I would get more upset with it than was really good for me or the baby.

So I stopped. Instead I opted to get my blood drawn for regular average sugar tests. So far? All within normal. But I can’t get past the fact that I’ve been on the medication before.

What irked me more than anything was the “you need to work out X amount of minutes a day.” I was already. The fact that my doctors didn’t seem to listen to me during my appointments when I told them I ran and did yoga was even more bothersome.

THE LEGS AREN’T WHAT THEY WERE

I lost 15 pounds when I first got pregnant. I didn’t have morning sickness. Instead, I just couldn’t eat anything. I picked apart my food for the first 14 weeks. I only ate small meals. I’d start eating something, then stop and give the rest to my dogs.

I was also too fatigued to run a lot at first.

The result of those two things was a decline in my leg muscles. It didn’t take long, particularly because I went from running 100-plus miles a month to 20 or so. My husband always told me that I really wanted to lose weight, I’d have to stop running as much. Turns out he was right.

When I did get back into it, in the second trimester, there was a noticeable difference in my running. My legs felt tight, and weak. They haven’t recovered.

EVERYTHING IS SWOLLEN

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My feet, my hands, etc. Before anyone jumps to “that could be a sign of something bad,” I know. My doctor and I have had numerous conversations about pre-eclampsia. We’ve talked about me going in for twice-weekly monitoring of baby girl’s stress level. My blood pressure is checked regularly.

Swelling is part of pregnancy for some women. I’m one of those women.

My running shoes don’t fit. Neither do any of my heels. In the past four weeks none of my flats have fit me well.

Worse even is that my wedding ring has been in our home safe for weeks because I haven’t been able to wear it out of the house.

The swelling makes me very uncomfortable. When I clinch my hands, it hurts. Obviously walking around is painful after awhile as well.

BABY GIRL HATES RUNNING

Maybe she doesn’t, but she sure seems to. My husband is concerned about pre-term labor (which is a real concern for us with my health history) and asked me to NOT run during the third trimester. Yoga is fine. Walking is fine. But no high impact. The funny thing is that I’m OK with it. I’ve been fine with it since I started getting Braxton Hicks contractions in the middle of two mile runs.

I also started responding to the baby when I feel as if she is sending me messages. Some runs were fine. I felt as if the movement had rocked her to sleep. Other days, I felt as if I was making her incredibly uncomfortable. She started kicking my bladder uncontrollably and then didn’t calm down about an hour later.

She would kick me relentlessly after. I started feeling as if she wasn’t all that comfortable when I was running, particularly in the past couple weeks of running.

So I stopped.

Now I’m sticking to yoga, but even that is becoming harder. I’m 30 weeks today. I’m going back and forth about registering for another few sessions of yoga. At this point I only am looking at five sessions at a time … because I had a couple weeks were I was too uncomfortable to go.

All of these things are making it hard to feel like “me” right now.

February 15, 2014

When anxiety rears its ugly head

Confession: Running, for me, has become more than just a way to stay fit. It’s also away to keep anxiety at bay. A couple years ago, I didn’t deal with it as much. Today? It has a tendency to rear its ugly head at the worst possible times.

Throughout my pregnancy, I’ve been trying to run two-milers where and when I could. I had a great maternity support belt and near the end of my second trimester, I felt really strong when I ran.

That was until a couple weeks ago when I suddenly started getting sharp pains in my abdomen where baby girl is currently taking up residence. I thought, maybe, she was starting to kick up in my ribs. I stopped running and took a shower, then sat down on the couch for awhile.

The pain didn’t let up. I ended up calling the advice nurse. I’ve also had some foot swelling, which means my running shoes aren’t fitting me as well, and other “symptoms” during the week. My husband and I were kind of freaking out. Turns out it was likely just Braxton Hicks contractions, which are painful and not really threatening.

I was told to keep my feet elevated. Drink a lot of fluids, as I normally do. And maybe ton it down on the workouts.

The downside is that the activity has been really helpful in keeping my weight in a “good place.”

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That’s my bump at 27 weeks. I’ll be 29 weeks tomorrow. I’m getting bigger and bigger each day. My center of gravity is WAY OFF what it typically is when I run marathons.

I’m also noting some atrophy of my leg muscles, which is making me a little sad. I’m gained about 15 pounds so far. The numbers keep inching up on the scale, closer to the 200 mark that I fought so hard to come down from four years ago. But this is a different kind of gain, obviously. I know that she’s gaining if I am.

The bottom line of the pain? My pregnant running is likely over. I stopped yoga for a couple weeks too, just to be safe.

The problem, though, is that the anxiety is starting to creep up again. In horrible ways.

Someone asked me the other day if I was “worried” about anything leading up to baby girl’s arrival.

I’M WORRIED ABOUT EVERYTHING.

The first trimester all I thought about was the risk of miscarriage. After regular bleeding the first eight weeks it was on my mind all the time. My husband, the optimist, kept telling me not to worry. But I had more ultrasounds in those early weeks than I want to admit. I kept going back to my OB just to make sure everything was going well. My blood pressure was high when I went in for those first appointments because my anxiety was through the roof. I just wanted to get in and make sure baby had a heartbeat.

The second trimester all I thought about was viability. Unsolicited advice often leads to worries, particularly when people who are trying to be helpful (I think), start talking about pre-term labor and preemie babies. I started to think to myself “I just have to make it to 26 weeks,” which is when baby’s chance of survival outside the womb increases dramatically. Every week after just adds to her chances.

I can’t say it’s not without cause that I’m worried. My doctor has noted my past diabetes diagnosis and those high blood pressure readings as reasons to worry. I’ve been told I likely will be induced if I don’t go into labor by my May 4 due date. In fact, baby may come early if my OB becomes worried about her at all. But ALL of those things just adds to my anxiety.

The third trimester all I think about is stillbirth. Statistics put the number of stillbirth at 1/160. When I spend time on my Baby Center birth board, though, I’m confronted with the reality more and more. It’s scary. It’s more than scary, it’s petrifying. My doctor and my husband told me to stop reading forums. I should know that myself after moderating forum comments for more than a year as an online editor.

If I distract myself during the day, I don’t think about it as much. But every now and then, if I don’t feel her wiggling around. Everyone keeps telling me that as much as I worry before she is born, I will worry more once she is here. I believe it.

Running kept all those ugly thoughts away. Now I’m relying on yoga to calm me. Baby girl isn’t quite sure she likes the yoga anymore either though. She’s been kicking up a storm when we do our last meditation exercise. And I’ve had to run to the bathroom more than I’d like. I’m thankful the yoga instructor has been very supportive of teaching a pregnant student.

On that note, we’re very much preparing for her to arrive. Her room is done, one of the things I made sure I did before I went back to school. Last weekend, my husband treated me to an early Valentine’s Day gift and we splurged on a 3D/4D ultrasound in a nearby city.

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We found out that she really, really looks like him. I love the image above because she looks exactly like him when he’s sleeping. He has a closely-shaved haircut and that same nose. I was excited to see her face. We also confirmed, definitely that she is a girl. I’d been worried since our anatomy ultrasound.

It’s good she’s a girl because her name is already up above her crib.

My baby shower date is set. My best friend Jennie and my sister are throwing it. I’m so thankful for that.

And my husband is getting nervous/excited. He bought her some baby leggings a couple weeks ago.

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The green is the color of my glider rocking chair. Her room is a mixture of sage green, chocolate brown and pink accents. Nothing over the top girly.

I’m excited that I’m “almost there,” but I’m also truly missing running and it’s ability to keep the bad thoughts at bay. I am starting to put together a plan for after she comes. Today I found out that I will be a See Jane Run Ambassador into the 2014-15 year. So baby’s first race will be the 5K in Alameda on June 22. I’m excited about the journey to get to the start.

December 31, 2013December 31, 2013

Close to the heart

I’ve started and stopped this post so many times in my head that I decided I had to finish it before 2013 was over. So today, on the last possible day I could, I decided it needed to come out.

A year ago exactly, I was 24 hours from an emergency room visit that led to another one, seven days later, where my gallbladder was removed during emergency surgery.

I remember looking down at the holes on my stomach realizing that the scars would never go away. More emotional wounds would open up in the following days, but my husband and I had decided, in my hospital room on Jan. 8, that I would not be returning to my job at the newspaper I once loved so deeply I could only imagine being dragged out dead.

My heart was broken because I knew no other way.

My wounds, in those early days of 2013, were both physical and emotional. My nerves were ravaged. My body was spent.

But those very trying early days of 2013 were also filled with an overabundance of love: From my husband, who promised me I’d find my path and things to “keep me busy.” From my close friends who helped me through and offered guidance. From my students, who showed me there was more to journalism than a city newspaper with declining circulation and staff numbers. From a former colleague who, without seeing any of my work, jumped on a chance to hire me as a freelancer.

Love surrounded me.

That love healed me in ways I will never, ever be able to explain.

And that love led me to her:

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When I found out I was pregnant in August, I thought I would blog every single milestone of it on here. I worried about this blog becoming less workout related, more mommy-ish.

I would start posts over and over again, but something kept stopping me: a new-found need to keep private matters very close to my heart, between my husband and I.

I’m not ending this blog by any means.

In fact, I have posts about running during pregnancy written (of note, there hasn’t been a lot of running because baby doesn’t seem to enjoy it and likes to remind me of that) and yoga (that has been essential in recent weeks). I’m yearning for my 10-milers, while only being able to squeak out two at a time right now on the treadmill.

I surprised myself last week when I register for the 2nd Half Marathon of the San Francisco Marathon for 2014. My due date is May 3. The race is July 29. I’m hedging my bets on a hope that I’ll have a natural delivery and be able to get back to running quickly, for my self and my sanity. I’ve been missing my mid-length runs of six to eight miles especially.

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But my center of gravity has recently shifted enough to cause me issues. My saving grace has been my Gabrialla Elastic Maternity Belt. I bought one on recommendation from another blogger. I can’t recommend it enough.

I’m getting bigger and bigger, obviously, as I get closer to my due date. My first trimester was rough. I slept a lot. I’ve never been more thankful for a forgiving freelance schedule and part-time teaching position. I was sleeping 12+ hours a day at one point. I fell asleep nearly everywhere I sat down. I also had to stop running as a precaution, for awhile, because of bleeding. (Sorry for the TMI, but sometimes this sort of thing is linked to running. My OB told me it was likely not the running. It happens to a lot of women.)

As I worked through all this, I realized that I didn’t want to share, let alone overshare, things about my life. Call it innate need to keep my private life private, but I just felt like not blogging every element of my life was the most appropriate action.

My husband has always been a more private person than me. Part of the reason I used my maiden name professionally for so long is because I wanted him to be able to keep that privacy. Scary things happen to journalists. My grandmother used to get phone calls for me because she was the only person in the phone book listed with the same last name.

I didn’t want that happening at home.

So when my husband asked me not to blog specific things, I listened and understood.

At 20 weeks, though, we found out that baby is a girl. Or at least according to our ultrasound tech, who said: “I wouldn’t tell you if I wasn’t sure.” I’m still having moments where I think we should maybe have that checked again. That’s my anxiety peaking up …

In any case, at 22 weeks I’m feeling as good as someone who is watching all her running clothes slowly shrink up can. It’s kind of been funny to figure out which of my workout clothes still fit me on any given day. As much crap as Lululemon has received recently for comments made by the founder, my Lululemon clothes are stretching nicely over my belly.

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A different in belly shots, though you can’t really see much since both photos are shot at different lengths from the mirror. On the right, I’m wearing my 2011 California International Marathon shirt and a Lululemon Run: Swiftly shirt in my regular size 10.

I’m still very grateful for long tank tops that have extended the life of my regular clothes, though by the time I go back to teaching in late January I’m pretty sure it will be ALL maternity clothes for the next few months.

So there’s been a lot happening in my life over the past couple months.

I’m finally getting to a point where I’m ready to share my triumphs, fears, successes and apprehensions again. But after sharing so much in late 2012 and early 2013, I really wanted this first part of my pregnancy to be private and special to my husband and I.

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I can’t promise a quick return or regular posts again, particularly because I still very much want this blog to be health and fitness centered. But I am letting myself add in the stuff about pregnancy and our baby girl on the way.

As can be imagined, I’m extremely excited for 2014 to begin. I’m excited about some potential (as in I’m crossing my fingers tightly) career happenings on the way later in the year, the amazing work I’m doing now (so many website builds, so little time) and, of course, our little one coming.

I’m also looking forward to eventually getting back to running more frequently. One step at a time. Always moving forward. Because now I know another way.