Ironically enough, I last wrote here just a few hours before I found out I was pregnant.
Since April 22, 2019, quite a lot has happened:
- I learned I was pregnant and was ecstatic
- I learned that I miscarried at 8 weeks
- I did not start my dream triathlon, the Escape from Alcatraz race
- I canceled my 140.6
- My cat developed cancer and passed away
- I fell 0.1 miles in to a half marathon and sprained my ankle
- I completed the Shiprock Half Marathon and Rock n Roll San Diego Half Marathon
- …and a few other things
The past few months have given me a lot of perspective. I’m trying to look on the bright side, which is admittedly very difficult to do when it feels like everything has gone down the drain. I cried every morning and night for a month after the dust had settled.
I think the most important thing is that I get more time…more time to save money, more time to train for races, more time to prepare my mind and body for the rigors of parenthood. (I’m pretty sure that is the ultimate marathon.) I ironically also get less time (biologically) because by obstetric standards I’m geriatric!
There was a lot that I learned about my body in the eight weeks I was pregnant. I learned exactly how efficient the body could be at clearing out waste. (I was running to the bathroom maybe 10-15 times a day!) I became very aware of my pains and niggles because I was unable to pop any pain relievers aside from Tylenol (and even then, I was extremely conservative). I learned that I could gain wait pretty rapidly and have a very hard time losing it. (Miscarriage weight is a completely different struggle than just I-ate-too-many-donuts weight.) In many ways I feel like my body has failed me, especially after my miscarriage and certainly after my latest race DNF.
Either way, I’m just taking things day-by-day right now.