On Saturday (3/21), the weather was gorgeous (pushing 70-degrees) so I geared up for a long walk on my normal running route which spans just over 5 miles. I went for a long walk and decided about half way through that since I was warmed up, what the heck... I can run. I have to admit, I was also feeling some peer pressure from the many other fair-weather-motivated runners out and about. (Yes, I know... I should not be focusing on them, exercise is about the exerciser... but I still felt like I should be doing what I'd normally be doing sans bean in belly.)
As I rounded the corner where the running trail ends and headed into the residential neighborhood which leads (eventually) to home, I picked up the pace from a brisk walk into a slow jog than an easy run. The first steps, albeit light and gentle, felt different. Odd, weird, clumsy, bulbous.... really different. I've never carried around a mass like this before - so it's no surprise that it wouldn't feel normal. But about 5 blocks later, all I could think about was my feet meeting the pavement and the impact ricocheting up through my knees, to my hips and to my "holding tank" the little one is calling home these days. I imagined what the little half-pound bean must be feeling, especially since I know there's ample room in my growing one-room shack. Ultimately, about ten steps after those initial thoughts of little Baby Beck going through my own personal spin cycle, I took the run back down to a walk.
I'm sure it was fine; the doctors all say running is perfectly acceptable if you were a runner in the recent past - which I was. But the awkwardness of carrying around this new mass (and the potential that I was prepping the little one to become a rodeo superstar) just proved that I'm not ready for full-fledged running quite yet. Maybe once there's less "wiggle room"....
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