Well we've all heard the phrase "It's not a race, it's a marathon." It can be applied to St. Patrick's Day celebrations, Thanksgiving dinner, and in my case losing the baby weight. I gained about 30lbs with little Miss Mackenzie, and was lucky enough to have lost 20 of it by the time I came home from the hospital. So now I've got these pesky 8-10 to lose.
Now I'm generally a pretty healthy eater (obviously) and although I'm getting my Masters in Exercise Science, I have to admit, I pretty much loathe working out! But I'd like to tone up and get rid of the baby flub, possibly even run a 5K. (Deep down I think, maybe if I publicly announce this, I'll stick with it!
So last week I made the first step and hit the treadmill. As I stood there warming up, I couldn't help but remember the last time I was on it. On January 25th, watching the 5 o'clock news, I was in that same spot, trying to walk that baby out of me! I remember counting the contractions using the timer on the treadmill, gripping the handle in anticipation as the seconds tick by, knowing the start of a new contraction would be arriving. Fast forward 8 weeks, I'm now watching the seconds tick by in the same dreaded anticipation of knowing my warm-up is done, and I need to up the speed!
Same thing with the exercise ball. Last week I used it for ab work outs and stabilization resistance exercises, but 8 weeks ago, I sat on that thing, on the side of my hospital bed, really just to appease the nurse. She said "some people say it helps with the pain." Well, that thing did nothing for those contractions. Epidural please!
So I'm hoping to begin to enjoy working out and trying to stay positive on this new "race" I'm running. But I have to admit, the reason I'm racing is completely worth it!
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