Yesterday evening instead of going to the gym we took turns running around Lake Calhoun while the children played at the 32nd Street Beach playground. Mark went first and I went next. I didn't run all the way around, just the 2.5 miles from the playground to where we left the van. Of course I walked to the playground, so I did make it the whole way.
The last time I ran around Lake Calhoun was in April when I was practicing for my 5K race. I wasn't pregnant yet. I would be, only a week or two later.
I gave myself plenty of time, telling Mark to meet me back at the van with the children in half an hour. Probably because I wasn't pushing myself to go very fast -- twelve-minute miles -- I enjoyed the whole run. Maybe I've discovered the secret to running and liking it: Running hard is never fun, at least not for very long. But if you get used to running hard, then running easy -- well, it is fun, outside in the nice weather, anyway! And of course, the harder you practice running on a regular basis, the faster you can go and still call it easy. I think I'm starting to understand this running thing.
(If my theory's correct, you have to spend most of your running time NOT enjoying it so that sometimes you CAN enjoy it. But that I can understand a lot better than just never enjoying it at all anyway. It's like working for the weekend, you know?)
So I ran an easy 5 mph, most of the way around the lake. I was running easy because it's starting to feel a little uncomfortable in the pelvis to run hard. I've developed this odd sort of skating, waddly stride that, I think, is the result of unconsciously trying to keep my pelvis a constant distance from the ground. I probably look kind of silly -- maybe no more silly than the other people I see running, some of them very fit-looking, who don't really run, it's more like a gentle shuffling jog.
I enjoyed the sight of my pregnant shadow running along beside me, slowly revolving around myself as I made the circuit of the water. I do look pregnant now -- not with the huge cantilevered sort of bump, but with the sleek maneuverable definitely-starting-to-show sort of bump. I marveled to think what might have crossed my mind, back before I started exercising, at the sight of an obviously pregnant, 35-year-old woman, in maternity running pants and top, running around the lake. I wouldn't have thought ill of her, but I certainly wouldn't have thought she was the same sort of person as me. I probably would have assumed she was one of those addicted-to-running sorts.
Hardly! And yet, there I am, still going.
I carried my cell phone in my hand (no pockets in maternity running wear) in case I had to call Mark and let him know when I got sore and uncomfortable and needed to switch to walking. But instead, with this easy run, I felt better and better as I went. The muscles in my sides seemed to warm, open up, and let me breathe more freely. A tightness seemed to spread across my lower abdomen, but it wasn't a warning sort of tightness, instead it felt supportive and secure, holding everything in firmly. As I came around into the full evening sunlight, the sweat broke on my neck, back, and shoulders, and the breeze off the lake cooled my skin.
When I got back to the van -- I'd beaten Mark there by several minutes -- and slowed to a walk to meet him on his way back from the playground -- I was even a little bit reluctant to stop.
Yea! :)
Posted by: Kim (in IA) | 29 August 2009 at 09:43 AM