bare mother

I ran for the first time in 18 months today. Half an hour, not too bad. At one point I thought my uterus might fall out, but I’m good.

Things have changed since I last trained for a marathon though, that’s for sure.

Last time

Weight: 60kg

Fitness level: Good

Running: Regularly for years

Training plan: Regimented, 4 days per week (running, cross training, strength work)

This time

Weight: 70-ish kg

Fitness level: Cake

Running: For the toilet/shower/wine bottle when the baby naps

Training plan: Sort of (see below)

Before I had a baby I thought I’d use my maternity ‘time off’ to finish the novel I started forever ago, get my chef hat on, and maybe take up a hobby like sewing or knitting. That pre-baby Lisa was a funny girl, bless her.

Instead I struggled to keep afloat, like every new mum, and threw in major renovations and some surgery to spice things up a bit.

Take training this week. Come Monday I was pumped. This was the week. The start of 16 weeks of hard graft, sweat, and tears, culminating in triumph and a new personal best. I was ready. I was so ready. And then the universe looked at me and thought ‘hmm, no. No I don’t think so.’ And I got five days of hard graft, sweat and tears instead.

Monday

Goal: Rest day.

Outcome: No and no. A sick 9 month old who refused to be put down, dripped snot like a leaky tap, and projectile vomited randomly (sometimes on me, sometimes on the cat) meant I did not rest thank you very much. I also did not sleep, did not shower, and did not manage a hot cup of coffee.

Tuesday

Goal: 30 minute easy run.

Outcome: Hahahahaha (see above and add diarrhoea – not mine – and a barking dog).

Wednesday

Goal: Rest or cross train.

Outcome: I did run up and down the stairs to the nursery a lot. I picked up dog poo and mopped. Does emptying the dishwasher and cleaning up sick off the floor count? Okay that last one wasn’t really me. Let’s just call it the ‘benefit of having a dog’.

*Note: I realised on Wednesday evening that I had not showered since Sunday (WHAT). It was that kind of week.

Thursday

Goal: 10 minute easy run, 15 minute slow run, 10 minute easy run.

Outcome: I had planned to do this one. I was going to put the baby down for the night, leave hubby in charge, and hit the gym. Baby said no to this plan very loudly. All day and night. So I had wine.

Friday

Goal: Rest (try and catch up on Thursday).

Outcome: Again, fully intended to go to the gym in the evening, after I cooked tea. But hubby started drinking a beer and chatting and I really wanted one and it was nice to have normal adult chat (after a week in quarantine), so I started cooking and that turned into half a bottle of wine, and I ate a whole Quorn roast (secretly proud of this) and some chocolate and I did not go to the gym.

Today

Goal: 40 minute steady run.

Outcome: 30 minute easy run. I made it to the ducking gym! On two hours uninterrupted sleep on the nursery floor (long story). After a false start (gym doesn’t open until 8am on a Saturday dammit). Ready to high five every sucker in that place afterwards. I stumbled – literally, I tripped up trying to change a song and almost ended my career – and I cut the run shorter than I would have liked (see previous, my legs were getting a bit too much like jelly so I thought it best to stop), but I did it.

And I feel pretty damn good. I’m very tired and my legs are stiff and I absolutely plan on doing it all again tomorrow. Because you know what? There are people out there who would give anything to run but can’t. I used to be one of them. And an early morning run isn’t a big deal after that.

How do you find the time to exercise?