jogging stroller

The dreams started about two months ago: I’m sprinting, hard, fast, on a track or in a race, breathless and full of endorphins. Sometimes I’m swimming in a lap pool or in a lake. I’ve even been water skiing. I feel light, athletic, happy, unencumbered.

Then I wake up, and I’ve got this gigantic anchor of a belly weighing me down. Coming back to the realization of my physical body, what seemed so invigorating in my dreams now sounds exhausting and even impossible. Getting out of bed is such an ordeal, I feel a bit like Violet Beauregarde in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory when she blows up like a giant blueberry and they have to turn her sideways and roll her on the ground just to mobilize her. I rub my belly affectionately knowing this discomfort is temporary and well worth it. But I hate that the simplest things — walking a flight of stairs, unloading the dishwasher, even getting ready in the morning — make me breathless. And there are days I’d give just about anything to be able to pound out what I’m feeling onto the pavement.

I had all these great plans of being active during pregnancy. That was, of course, before I understood what pregnancy is like. I’m tired, slow-moving, sluggish, and don’t really feel motivated to lift more than a spoon for my Ben and Jerry’s. I know I should have been walking or swimming or yoga-ing, but to be honest I became a bit scared of exercise. During the entire second trimester I got strange spells of dizziness that made me nervous to even drive my car. Now, during the third trimester and months since I’ve done any real significant exercise, my mind is clearly craving movement while my body scoffs at the idea. Continue reading


Pod Person

Last weekend, in an effort to embrace other ways of being active, I tried a hiking yoga class with my sister-in-law Kara at Katy Trail in Dallas. It was exactly what I needed: giant hovering trees, an almost-summer breeze, and just the perfect amount of cardio and strength for someone wanting to take it down a few notches.

Encouraged, I signed up again for Saturday’s class, this time in River Legacy Parks in Arlington with Kara and my friend Amanda. As the class started off toward the trail, I could sense the feeling that was coming but I tried to desperately brush it off. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, I mantra-ed. I did this last week so I can do it again this week. No problem.

I fell in love with the atmosphere. I just wanted to press onward and explore the trails, but despite my mantra I could feel it taking me under — the steamy, sickly, dizzy, want-to-crawl-out-of-my-skin sensation I’ve become so acquainted with over the past four months. Continue reading

No running?

“Why don’t you just do some fast walking instead?” my doctor said, after I told her about the girly cramping I’d experienced during my first preggo run in almost two months. “We’ve got a good baby here!”

This is a far cry from what I expected to hear. In fact, I was sure she’d be supportive of me jogging while pregnant. I’d been waiting out the first trimester like a good girl, after the nurse practitioner told me early on I should avoid running until I was further along. I was fueled by knowing I’d get that green light soon enough.

My doctor is really wonderful, and I know she just has my best interest at heart. But my internal reaction to this news was fivefold: Continue reading