Pregnancy, Fitness and Mind Abuse

 Since it is January and all I'm thinking again about fitness. I'm back on board writing down the things I eat along with A who is fantastically consistent at it and keeping track of my nutritional intake on Fitday.com's handy little iPhone app (I still sometimes use the more comprehensive website, so don't be shy, non-smart phonies!) and I'm weighing myself every morning.

Image by Justin Liew via Flickr

 I genuinely regret slacking off on my running and then throwing in the towel. Summer heat is a major enthusiasm killer for me and I think the time period where it really started to get warm out is when I quit. Lots of people think the idea of running in the cold is crazy but for me it doesn't seem nearly as daunting as running in heat. When you run in winter you warm up and feel okay but in July running sounds like a completely terrifying thing to me.

Pregnant with Nib, no real prenatal shots this time around yet.

Truth be told there are several factors at work with me and fitness. One of the last times I ever ran was when I was in Florida on vacation with my in-laws and I think the combination of social intimidation ("Let's all go for a group run!") coupled with warm weather ate me alive. I tried to feel brave but honestly, I wimped out and walked back after quitting part way through our planned group run. I've been thinking frustratedly lately about intimidation and fear and all the crazy triggers I have for panics regarding fitness and exercise (being watched, sweating, physical pain, falling, feeling embarrassed...etc.). Consciously, when I think about it I realize that none of those things is going to kill me, none of them are objectively bad and lots of them would maybe even have something good to offer me.

This is where a personal trainer in my back pocket would really come in handy. One of the great things about a trainer is that they can order you through the blocks you set up for yourself, believe in you ceaselessly, know better than you about limitations and safety and not allow you to fink out when things get rough even if the rough is mental. Anyone have any great ways to stay fit while pregnant and/or brilliant ways to be your own personal trainer and order yourself to keep on and develop discipline even though you're scared? I've love to grow this way.

Related articles

• 10 fears that keep people from the gym (seattletimes.nwsource.com)
• Pregnancies linked to a healthier heart (nation.com.pk)
• Tips and Workouts For a Strong and Fit Pregnancy (fitsugar.com)
• Chicago Personal Trainer Shares Most Common Fitness Mistakes (prweb.com)

The Not-So-Scary Relatives

My in-laws came and they went. I didn't keel right over from anticipation stress and the visit went very well. I'm not sure exactly why but I sure am able to make a whole lot of panic out of a friendly visit. I'm so intimidated by other people sometimes, so scared of sharing my space (lest it be sneered at), so afraid of criticism and so unsure of my ability to get "included." I think a lot of it stems from not being a very strong feeling person inside, I'm not confident in my ability to hold my own, impress, blow away the competition or be what I am supposed to be.

A's parents, in the flesh.

It was just a little weekend visit, they flew all the way out from the Midwest, just to spend the weekend with us, belnieve it or not. On that weekend visit they sent A and I on a highly relaxing overnight with no kids (Oh, baby-free, king-sized, sleep-number-bed...you were heaven!), they re-stocked our kids with books, brought us sheet-music for children's songs, did all the laundry in the house, ironed anything within a 1 mile radius, took all our trash out, shined our every dish, treated us to pizza, and even maaged to hang a curtain for me on the sly that I had been battling with.... What exactly was I so scared of? I sometimes wish I was less of a ridiculously cagey bird and more placidly trusting and smoothly optimistic. But yeah, I'm still me.
 Image via Wikipedia

So, now that they're gone and all is well after all, I'm handing out the homemade cookies my mother-in-law whipped up for snack time and we're all reciting the lines from, How The Grinch Stole Christmas (which we can now recite in chorus thanks to Grandpa's astounding patience with "one more time" requests from Ru.) I feel soundly on my feet, heading into the holidays with my cap tightened down and my kitchen counters shining. I am determined to manufacture more goodwill for my fellow man, more cookies for the Christmas tins and as much good cheer as can be reasonably obtained. Morning sickness be darned!