But also, it was kind of comforting?
I was whining to my eldest sister about these 10 pounds that have been following me around ever since the miscarriage, and really I'm beginning to feel just plain lazy for not being able to get any of the 10 to budge an inch.
I hear tell from her though, that miscarriage weight is hardest to get rid of. Harder than pregnancy weight. She's had 7 of those (pregnancies), 6 of which came to fruition, and also she's spoken with other females who agree. So I'm not going to argue. Also, it's nice to feel justified.
So I was thinking "Yay! I'm not a total bum! Despite having worked on this (mostly...) for the better part of 5 months, NOT a bum!" And I was happy. But then I was thinking "UGH. Seriously? Will it follow me around for the rest of my life??"
And why does miscarriage weight have to be harder to get rid of than anything else??? Do the fat cells from different events (miscarriage, pregnancy, eating an entire chocolate cake) act differently?? I think miscarriage fat cells sit around saying "Haha she was sad about no baby, so let's kick her some more while she's down!"
Well, to those fat cells I say "Sorry suckas! I'm over it and I'm exercising!" (Okay I'm mostly over it until I see a baby with fat cheeks and then my uterus starts to cry, but it was doing that BEFORE the miscarriage, so I'm thinking I'm back to where I started?)
But yeah. Exercising.
I was being tortured by Exercise Man Ben, right? But then my neck decided to go out, right? And now I'm not being tortured by Exercise Man Ben because for some ridiculous reason my neck is still sore when I get up in the mornings (and blah blah blah. I am SO whiney on this post). So, Maggie and I, we have been walking everyday. Like, 4 miles.
Except sometimes it turns into jogging/running?
Let me tell you, every time I start out walking I think "I am NOT in a running mood. I am NOT running today." and 20 minutes into my walk I find myself jogging somehow? I don't know how this happens.
Okay I know how it happened yesterday.
I was walking along, when my brain started to feel the urge, but my quads said "NO" very vehemently, so I decided to talk to the Lord about it (true story).
I said "Okay, look, this isn't our first rodeo. You and I have been down this road before. MULTIPLE times. You know I am not a natural runner. But! The desire is there, and You've helped me to pull something from somewhere and magically make it a certain distance before, so I suppose it could happen again?"
At this point, I asked the Lord for a sign.
If I learned anything consistently in Sunday school, for the better part of my entire life, you never do that (I'm looking at you, Korihor).
Lucky for me (lucky?) the Lord has a sense of humor.
I said "Okay, I'm going to pass a quarter mile marker up there in a minute or less, if someone runs by me from the other direction, before I hit it, I'll start running when I get there."
(I thought I had the Lord here. So many details He would have to take care of. There wasn't enough time for someone to come running towards me before I hit it. I was so smart. Insert sarcasm here.)
Dang it all if I didn't finish that thought when some woman had the audacity to come around the corner, just past the marker, heading in my direction. I rolled my eyes up to the heavens and said "FINE!"
So I started alternating jogging and walking every half mile, because once I start, I convince myself if I don't run a legitimate amount of space then it's a waste of time and energy. So it turned into a mile and a half worth of jogging (not consecutively, mind you; I alternated it with walking).
But wait, can I just tell you that it was not your average jogging? I was pushing a stroller. With the top pulled down over Maggie's head. The wind was blowing. Against me. Into the top pulled down over Maggie's head. I was LITERALLY running against the wind whilst pushing a small person and a stroller.
Some people might say I'm a beast. Some people might say I deserve some sort of award. Some people (myself) might say I should eat chips and queso after such an endeavor (I didn't...).
I am going to impart wisdom to you now. Take it as you will.
Here is what I have learned about myself and running, ever since I first tried running 5 years ago (I HAD to run to get into shape. I was asked, in February of 5 years ago, to go on our stake's youth conference handcart trek that summer, and they told everyone to start preparing physically for it. So I chose running because, honestly, I reached my daily distance goal quicker than with walking. And that's the story of how I lost my first 10 pounds).
I hated running when I first started.
HATED.
IT.
So, I did what seemed only logical to my brain and heart. I prayed, every time, before running, that the Lord would give me strength and clear my mind while I ran (I am a pro at talking myself out of running the minute I start) and to help me go my distance goal for the day. I also asked Him to help me love it.
(It would appear that Heavenly Father and I converse a lot while I'm running.)
People, I ended up loving it.
However, I am not a natural runner. I'm not a good runner. Even after all of that, it still does not come as naturally to me as jigging and reeling does. The furthest I've run, without stopping, is 1 and 3/4 miles. That might not seem like much, but it was a HUGE accomplishment for me at the time.
I want so badly to love it though. And I don't know about anyone else, but I feel so powerful after a run. I think I've got all those crazy endorphins going through my head and random thoughts like "Yeah I could totally do a triathlon" creep into my head (despite only having just run a mile...?). Don't even worry, my delusions of grandeur are gone by the time I get back to my car, and I'm wondering if I can talk Mike into Mexican food for dinner.
Have you seen this picture?
That is most definitely me.
I'm really not sure what this post was about.
But I will close with this:
Next time you're on the Brushy Creek trail, and you see a woman running in hot pink shoes, purple shorts, a shirt that goes with neither color, and she seems like she might be about to die, just go ahead and pat me on the back and say "Come on Sandi! GAME TIME!!! WOO!" And that will give me the motivation to go one more quarter of a mile.
Thanks.