Tag Archives: tired

Running (Sleeping) in the First Trimester – 

11 Dec

Good morning, lovelies –

I’m over here feeling fabulous – FINALLY! The trials of the first trimester are past me. I’m currently 17 weeks and 5 days pregnant and *gasp* feeling like my energy has come back, at least in the morning. Come 8pm it’s time for shuteye. The bed always wins. The bed + Netflix. (Who am I!?)

Anyway, I told you I was going to blog about running for two. I wanted to document my experience “From Chasing Boston to Chasing Baby.” I was adamant that I’d be maintaining my pre-pregnant running schedule but that goal made a liar out of me. Let me give you the details of the challenge “Coming home from work: Newtons v. Big Comfy Bed.”

Note: I’m going to be honest about my experience here with pregnancy. I’ve noticed there is a tendency to shut out the details that aren’t synonymous to the pregnancy glow. People are too afraid to talk about the downside to this fairytalesque miracle. Yes, it’s a miracle but holy heck there are bouts of misery. There are countless bouts of vomiting, nausea, anxiety, hormonal dragonesque fiery outbursts followed by waves of crying over the most idiosyncratic concerns. There are high and there are lows that are inexplicable.

To begin, I’d like to give myself a SHOUTOUT…I graduated with a Master in Public Administration December 2nd, 2015! Upon finding out I was pregnant I was beginning my last class with this program. The class was arduous. It took all of my concentration at a time when my body was crafting the fetus. This is the most crucial development! I wasn’t showing but my body and all of its major body organs and systems for the fetus were forming wiping me out. I’m someone who functions with 4 or 5 hours of sleep and suddenly I needed 8+ hours and ironically I could barely keep my eyes open come 2 o’clock. I was working, wrapping up school writing endless tedious papers on case studies on Regulations and Policy, making a baby, all while thinking I would have the energy to run 50+ miles a week.

Let’s get real.



I managed to do it all minus the running distance. My schoolwork took a considerable amount of my free time leaving me anxious to fit in running as well as mentally drained. I was feeling selfish because I had to run. If you want me around being all jolly and happy, you let me run…Plus the added bonus of running is that it is healthy for me and baby.

But if I wanted to fit in running it meant I would have to cut out any time I tried to carve out for social gatherings and date nights with my main squeeze. The main squeeze was flexible. Shoot, I conjure that he liked my busy schedule because that only meant more NFL, NBA and hitting the courts himself – uninterrupted from my incessant online searches of nursery ideas, cute onesies, baby essentials and the countless “isn’t this super cute!” Poor guy. What a trooper. It helped us maintain the peace and coincidently helped him dodge my emotional breakdowns. Case in point: The first time I heard the song ‘Hello’ from Adele. ‘Hello’ waterworks. I left him a voicemail about it laughing and crying, if you could distinguish the difference, saying it was a good thing he was playing ball because he’s missing an epic meltdown without warning. It’s quiet hilarious now that I’m sober from the hormones…  

So with that being my schedule – running was bound to take a backseat. Newtons 0. Big Comfy Bed 1. I couldn’t let my grades slip and hey, I have to go to work – Mama’s got to make that cash!!! But because running is an indispensable part of my life I fought the fatigue demons when I could and hit the treadmill. Newtons 1. Big Comfy Bed 3 (pretty accurate ratio). I always felt so esteemed afterwards. I would think those damn little demons were illusions and deceptive little devils casting spells of trickery. I wasn’t as tired as I thought…until the next day and the day after that.

That was really the case of running in my first trimester. When I felt well enough to run, I ran. I ran middle distance at a moderate pace. I monitored my heart and my breathing never felt labored. I didn’t “feel” pregnant. Only my mind was. I could run 10 miles on a Monday at a 7:45 pace followed by 6 miles on Wednesday at a 7:40 pace. The every other day routine was working for me when I wasn’t faced with incendiary fatigue or homework. The running was sporadic but I ran nonetheless.

Running/Working Out in the First Trimester:

Running: Weekly average 25 miles a week – A significant deviation from pre-pregnancy running.

Stairmaster: Aside from running I would hit the Stairmaster. If I ran prior to the Stairmaster I would do the Stairmaster for 15-20 minutes at level 7 – A nice moderate pace. If running wasn’t in the cards I would do 30-60 minutes on the Stairmaster at level 7.

Pushups: Approximately 3 x week 3 sets of 10.

Running Recap: I was told to run at a pace that the baby would allow. Baby allowed me to run as far as I could at a pace that was fast enough to keep my form tight and efficient. If I were to go any slower my hips would get a little loose and my right femoroacetabular impingement (FAI) and labral tear would threaten to immobilize me with perpetual pain. It felt refreshing to finish up a run while being pregnant! I would feel slightly challenged but ultimately badass because I was running with my little partner. Having always been a stubborn runner, intentionally dehydrated at times to ensure I was able to train in tough conditions to make race days more effective, running on empty, running with an injury (still am) I’m suddenly intentionally conscientious of this little marvel inside me growing. I’m no longer running to qualify for Boston tomorrow, or to burn off that delectable sugar cookie laden with butter and topped with sprinkles! No. Running for two has me in a new frame of mind and a much deeper place of understanding, acceptance and intimacy with myself. I’m running for the health of my unborn baby and me. I’m running to work towards peace and calm in the midst of the all-present unknowns of pregnancy and its affiliated imminent distractions and annoyances like fatigue, nausea, vomiting, exhaustion, need for sleep, ravenous hunger followed by violent vomiting…etc. This is no easy feat. But I’m doing it. And I’m doing it as best I can.

Stayed tuned for Running in the Second Trimester – HOLY HECK!!! What a difference!

Thanks for stopping by and reading my adventure “From Chasing Boston to Chasing Baby!”

 

XO

Valgal & baby macaroon

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From Chasing Boston to Chasing Baby

31 Oct

Hello lovelies!

Typical me, I’ve been silent. Very. Very. Quiet. But that’s only because I have big news. BIG. NEWS.

As of late I’ve been struggling with my running goals and all the aches and pains that are a part of the package. As you know I’ve been chasing Boston. I was only 4 minutes off from Boston Qualifying last October at the Marine Corps Marathon and that was ONLY, stress ONLY, because I had bronchitis. I finished feeling bad to the A double S. I mean seriously, I was badass having had just run 26.2 miles sicker than sick. Talk about a needed rest day starting once I crossed the finish line.

Fast forward to March 2015 when chasing Boston was going to become a reality. The rain was pouring. My training partner, my Newton Distance Elite shoes weighing all of 6.2 ounces, felt like cement blocks as they sloshed through the puddles and absorbed all the water. My clothes added additional weight to my light frame. Having trained in nearly nothing as far as running attire didn’t fare well. I was suddenly carrying extra weight from the wet clothes and my body was working harder than ever exerting extra energy to try to keep me warm from the feeling of the arctic cold. Regardless of the waves of heavy rain and sweat I was flying. Nothing would stop me from chasing Boston and getting that BQ. I marveled at my madness. I was badass. Then I met mile 17. Mile 17 was the mile marker that crushed my dreams for the Boston Marathon in 2016. The crushing sensation of my right hip paralyzed me. I couldn’t hobble. I couldn’t walk. I was at a dead stop. I stood there panicked and frozen. The rain wasn’t a baptism for enlightenment, it was a revelation that chasing Boston would go on a temporary hold. What kind of redemption is that? I didn’t feel renewed or rejoiced. I felt old. Decrepit. Unworthy of Boston because I couldn’t push through the pain. I felt like a loser. My dreams were only 9.2 miles away – chump change really.

After facing the reality that Boston was out of sight I had to face another reality – that my right hip needed some serious TLC from all my neglect. I scheduled physical therapy. It didn’t work. I always heard and felt the crushing sensation and the pop, pop, pop. Surgery was the only remedy if I wanted to chase Boston.  The other alternative was to give up running. Hmmm. No chance. I signed the dotted line obliging to surgery and all the post-surgery recovery shenanigans that promised me a long 6-9 month recovery before I could legitimately run again. Not jog. I mean run. Oy!

I was mentally preparing for the surgery to ensure Boston would be in my future. I was thinking a BQ in 2016 for the 2017 slot was manageable. Sure it’s a lofty goal but if anyone could do it it was me. I am 100% unyielding to hit any benchmark I set for myself. I shortened my distance and revved up my pace. I was running no more than 13.1 miles on the weekend and averaging 6 miles Monday-Friday. The speed came fast. The quicker my speed the more efficient my form which lessened the agonizing pain in the right hip. I felt like a rockstar.

Labor Day weekend arrived reminding me I only had a few weeks left of running prior to the daunting surgery that I often posted about. My partner and I visited my folks in Chicago for this holiday weekend to celebrate my 30th and my dad’s 20th something 30th. After a host of what could go wrong going wrong, our last minute road trip of 12 plus hours through the night had us arrive at their doorstep at 7am. Instead of shaking the fatigue with a nap, I fought the exhaustion by hitting the gym. Hard. I ran 6 miles  at 6:54 average pace. Hot diggity dog!!!

I felt revitalized. I had no pangs of pain. I started stressing that these runs would be few and far between and that all my training efforts would wither away. But I pressed forward maintaining a state of denial that surgery was someday not in 2 short weeks.

Newsflash: 30 and hip surgery … how old am I?

This particular holiday weekend I indulged in martinis, champagne, chardonnay, tequila, oysters, sushi, and everything I love (in moderation). We celebrated my dad’s birthday with mine the only way we know how, with a bang! We even enjoyed a jazz band at a local spot named Andy’s Jazz Club and Restaurant. The coincidence. The energy in the rhythm and blues was exceptional! It was surreal. I buzzed around with a glow all weekend long.

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I was buzzing from a few fast runs, great company, delicious food and a little or a lot of bubbly.

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But was the glow was more than that? After a few indirect jokes that I was pregnant, I decided to find out for myself.

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And what would you know…I was pregnant indeed! GLOWING!!! The test said to wait 3 minutes for results but that positive sign lit up like Rockefeller Center’s Christmas Tree Lighting. It took only a matter of seconds. I was 100% pregnant.

I had and continue to have irrepressible pleasure in knowing that I am going to be a mother. And better yet, a mother to a child with the man who has chosen to forgive me my past and me his, while we breeze forward in the currents of our renewed love. I already felt in the moment of the raw unexpectedness of it all that I was (am) connected to something bigger and better than myself.

I’m trying to put it all into words but I can’t explain how I was feeling. My emotions were high and low.

I was high from the reality of being pregnant with the man that I fell for some 15 years prior. Our journey is one for the books if you haven’t figured it out.

I was low because I just partook in everything you’re not supposed to eat and drink when you’re pregnant. I couldn’t fight the crocodile tears when I shrieked to my mother, “Mooooom, I ate sushi and oysters and oh my gosh I had chardonnay last night!!! Mom, what did I do! Oh no, I even ran, ran too fast for baby…” All kinds of irrational thoughts polluted my mind.

But with a maternal bear hug from my mother who’s eyes-filled with delight, hope, life, love and light, I knew I’d be okay. She calmed my nerves and helped me celebrate again about the miracle that was happening – reminding me of the miracle of life and our journey through it.

To save you from reading on about the emotional bandwagon that I experienced and continue to experience, let’s just say, surgery is postponed for a while (reason for the silent updates on how it went).

I went from chasing Boston to what we now call chasing baby. I might not BQ these next few years but clearly God thinks I’m mama qualified.

It’s funny how we have dreams for plans but we put a cap on them. Bigger dreams unbeknown to us by a greater power trump what we thought was all we could expect from ourselves. I may not be chasing Boston today, but chasing baby sure does sound a whole lot sweeter and gratifying.

So that’s that big news!!!

I plan on blogging my way through what’s it’s like and what it’s been like running for two. Here’s a hint: the first trimester is no joke. Exhaustion X Exhaustion. 20 hours of sleep isn’t enough. Crying crocodile tears because you can’t sing although you knew this your whole 30 years but suddenly having the revelation that you’re as bad, if not worse than Sofia Vergara’s singing a lullaby puts you in tailspain. Vomiting. More vomiting. New development of motion sickness. 9p bedtimes. 8:30p bedtimes.

Aside from all that, let me introduce you to our growing family.

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Our little athlete will debut May 2016.

Our Little Athlete Debuts May 2016

Our Little Athlete Debuts May 2016

Stay tuned for what it’s like running for two!

Thank gosh the first trimester is one week shy of being finito!!! Amen.

Thanks for stopping by.

XO

Valgal and the little Macaroon

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