Ever find yourself pausing as you go about your life and asking yourself, ‘Holy Lord, how did I get here?’
I’ve been asking myself that every other day for the past 10 weeks or so. Not about infertility, or having 3 chickens, or my obsession with all things unicorn, or things you would think I’d be asking myself about. No, I’ve been asking myself how on earth I ended up committing to do this INSANE thing. This “distraction” I wrote about recently.
And I can sum it all up by saying “It’s all Lindsay’s fault.” And I mean that in the best way possible, which she knows. Though in truth, Lindsay can probably prove it is all my fault as she has kept all our texts and IM convos we’ve ever had, which are hilarious. And incriminating. Should we ever publish a memoir together we could just publish these conversations. The dedication of this memoir would be “To our Mothers, don’t read past this page.”
Where was I? Distractions! Ok, you see, about 10 weeks ago I was talking with my friend Linds about how I had gotten halfway through the C25K program and then quit when I got bronchitis, in June, and died (figuratively OF COURSE). And Linds was talking about how she was thinking of starting the C25K program. And so we’re both like “Let’s do it together!” Because strength in numbers and public shaming on social media if one of us quits on the other!
All of that, I can process. I get that we both wanted to get back in shape post babies, that being accountable to someone else, other than your spouse, increases our likelihood of success, and that we had a goal of doing a 5k together at some point in “the future.”
What I don’t get, is how we got from training for a 5k to get back in shape, to committing to running TWO half-marathons a month apart. What. The. Heck?
I mean I literally have no idea how we made this jump. One minute we were talking about how fun it would be to do the Disney Princess Half-marathon “SOME DAY” because it would mean we get to wear tutus , and the next minute we’ve committed to doing not only the Disney World Princess in February, but also doing the Tinker Bell Half at Disney Land in January.
I used to run, and I used to run half-marathons, but Lindsay, never before has she run (willingly). Though get this, where she lives, BEARS visit her back yard frequently. BEARS. And when she called the Department of Natural Resources or whatever it’s called (my vote: The Department of: ‘there are bears in back yard, help!) they were all like “Yeah, they tend to do that, thanks for calling.”
So maybe she’s really training to run so she can out run the BEARS that are trying to eat her. And no, there is no way for me to type “BEARS” without capitalizing it.
And so I am running, pushing my body to its physical limits. Pushing my mind past the huge mental block of infertility that has been sitting in my brain for the past 9 months. And I know that this is literally saving my life. No, panic not, not in the sense that I’m depressed or anything. In the sense that you can really let infertility, or any chronic condition, get you down. Beat you up mentally and ruin your self-confidence. It takes a hold of your psyche and just sits there, weighing you down.
And so I run. And I don’t think past the point of ‘one foot in front of the other’, ‘breathe’, and ‘man I want some cupcakes and coffee.’
Our past infertility journey left me quitting exercise, quitting anything that in any way might hamper our chances to get pregnant/remain pregnant. But one thing I have learned from all this? None of it matters. If whether or not I run, or have an occasional drink, or eat junk food, are really going to make or break a pregnancy for me, than that wasn’t a pregnancy that was healthy enough to last anyways. This seems obvious, logical, but to the infertile, wearing the wrong socks to your infertility appointment can seem like it will make or break your chances of getting pregnant.
So I’m running. Running for health, running for sanity, running because sometimes I need something to distract me and help when the panic or fear of not getting pregnant threatens to rise up and feels like it’s choking me. And I run because I’m a freaking nut who thought two half-marathons a month apart sounded like a GREAT idea. But hey, I’m going to look awesome in my running TUTU!
PS – Linds and I are also running for a cause, to raise money for Special Olympics and TAPS. To learn more or donate you can click on the links below:
Donate to our cause (this link is for TAPS as we have fully funded our Special Olympics goal!)
PPS – Totally Lindsay’s fault. Totally.