Post-partum confession

Contrary to what you might guess from the title Run, Baby, Run, this *isn’t* a blog about enslaving infants in brutal marathon training regimes – however novel and controversial that might be.  (The entries would practically write themselves. “Are Crawling Breaks Cheating?”; “10 Ways to End Diaper Chafe;” and my personal favorite, “Should Soothers be Allowed in Races?”)

Nope, Run, Baby, Run is actually a three-word description of my running history to date. I ran (a lot; 6 marathons and countless halfs in the span of four years); then I had a baby (the delightful Ms. Alexandra, born in early January); and now I’m running again (slowly, sporadically, and humbly.) Against the advice of pretty much every sane person I know, I’ve registered for the Ottawa Half-Marathon at the end of May – in part to ensure that I actually *do* start running again, but also to test out how something that was once so all-consuming as my run training could be re-worked into a teeny bit of balance in an otherwise chaotic, sleep-deprived existence.

Of course, but a few weeks into the journey (to use my favourite reality show parlance – have you ever noticed that everything on reality shows – from finding love in a herd of catty bachelorettes to sustaining drunken head injuries –  is referred to as a ‘journey’?), I’m already ready to hoist on my shoulders any mom who manages to get out the door in a pair of running shoes, even if it’s just to run to the curb to grab the newspaper. I hope to use this blog, not just to tell my own little training story, but also to share the experience and wisdom of other new moms who are trying find some sort of physical and emotional equilibrium through running in these already-grueling post-partum months. Oh, and I’d also kind of like my old jeans to fit again.

Since I’m already a week late in posting my first entry, I also know finding the time to blog consistently will be a challenge. So forgive me in advance if, some days, my entries are more the cryptic scribblings of a an overtired lunatic than paragraphs upon paragraphs of eloquent blog-prose. See the description of my Monday workout, below, for an example of what I mean.

Hours slept: 5

Most consecutive hours slept: 1.5

Kilometres run: 3

Most consecutive kilometres run: 1 (had to stop three times to adjust the speed on Alex’s swing, which sits next to our treadmill. She’s still too little for the jogging stroller. )

Thoughts on race goal: What was I thinking?!