Aren’t you lot lovely? We’ve been a bit overwhelmed by everyone’s comments on my last blog (and I’m not even that hormonal yet) especially because I was quite nervous about coming out with our news so thank you for your responses. I hadn’t wanted to write about it before Blackpool in case (a) Blackpool didn’t happen and (b) anyone told me not to be so stupid or was mean to me. I really should have known that I was surrounded by like-minded people who have been there and done that, and would be supportive and encouraging about the whole thing. Even at work (where I keep my running pretty quiet because mentioning it is usually met with a response of either horror, amazement or just uncomprehending bewilderment) I have found a psychologist who ran through her pregnancy and didn’t bat an eyelid when I told her.
You see, when I googled ‘running pregnancy’, the first page of results throws up a Daily Mail article with the headline “‘You selfish cow!’: One of the insults hurled at me by other mothers as I jogged… because I’m pregnant”. I should know better than to click on a link to the Fail, but I couldn’t resist (and then went one step further by going below the line to read the reader’s comments…) and it made me a bit apprehensive. At that time I couldn’t even blog about it – my family sometimes comment (mainly during January and June) that they only know what I’m up to by reading it here and I felt that this wasn’t an appropriate way to pass on such news…
So I blogged about it anyway. In secret. Only twice, but this was enough to get things straighter in my head. Anyway. This is what I wrote (well it’s part one of what I wrote).
It’s funny how things turn out. One night I’m looking at race pace calculator apps and discussing a sensible half marathon time that would be achievable with a realistic training plan, the next night (literally) I’m looking at a wee sodden stick that is saying in no uncertain terms “pregnant” (the digital tests actually say pregnant, it makes it a whole lot more real than just squinting at a blue cross…).
Yup. Pregnant. I know some of you read this blog at work, so I won’t go into detail about my initial response (just to say that the level of effing and jeffing wouldn’t get past anybody’s security features). To put it mildly, it was a bit of a shock. After the swearing came a bit of a cry, where I bawled that I am far too selfish to be a good mum and that the poor child would be better off being raised by wolves.
After not too long I started to think about running. I had just declared that this would be my best half training ever, I’ve signed up for more races than ever and now it just seemed….pointless. Lots of things seemed pointless. What was the point in even trying to run when I’ll have to stop soon? What was the point in knitting anything ever again? (I’m not sure what my logic was this one). I am going to be responsible for a tiny human being, I would have no time, no energy, no nothing. I was no longer going to be me. This lasted overnight and into the next morning – poor Ginge had to endure my continued mithering that it was all bleak and hopeless. So he kicked me out for a run and I came back with a smile on my face.
Unable to go down my usual route of finding stuff out (ask twitter) I asked google about running during pregnancy and I have to say that I mostly liked what I saw. The general rule of thumb seems to be, if you’re already doing it you can keep doing it, don’t knacker yourself (I usually maintain the recommended conversational pace while running – with hindsight this might be why I’ve never really improved…) and listen to your body. Oh and drink lots, but be prepared to be shameless about nipping behind a hedge for a pee.
As I write this, I’m slightly fazed about the fact that I have no idea what my body has got in store for me over the next few weeks. It’s not like being injured where you know that you can’t necessarily mend yourself, but following advice about resting/icing/strapping/stretching/rolling might help the healing process along a bit. I know that my body has the potential to blindside me completely with tiredness, nausea and all sorts of things. I want to keep exercising for as long as possible (and am coming up with plans b and c in case the running isn’t a goer) but I’m realistic to acknowledge that it’s not as simple as just wanting this to happen.
Today I am mostly narky that my usual tea intake has been curbed.