My First Run

My very first 5k was in October of 2012.  I barely prepped for it, but ran with a friend who kindly ran at my pace.  The following year, I tried really hard to become a runner, participating in ten different races and training in between.  One year later, in October of 2013, I ran the same race as my first, this time pushing a jogging stroller, and impressed with myself that I finished with a decent time and the added challenge.  A testament to my hard work.

I continued to run, a little less consistently, through 2014.  In spring of 2015, I was pregnant.  I had never run while pregnant.  I walked, a lot, while pregnant with Theo.  Notsomuch of anything while pregnant with Quentin.  But I was determined to do the Rock n’ Roll 5k in July of 2015, supporting the Chromosome 18 Registry and Research Society.  Running while pregnant was mostly awkward and I was ill-prepared, even at only around 15 weeks, so I toned it down to a brisk walk.

That was my first run while pregnant.  Today was my first run since losing my babies.

I thought little about it at the time.  I was exhilarated to be a part of Proud to Run Chicago, with my son in tow.  But as I ran, I thought back to that first time I ran with a jogging stroller, which brought me back to running last year while pregnant.  And now, not pregnant.

I try to take immaculate care of myself while pregnant.  I eat even healthier than normal.  I take all of the vitamins and follow all of the rules.  But in the end, it didn’t matter.  I had this vain hope that perhaps all of the effort I have put into yoga and self-care over the past few months might result in “better luck next time” – but I cannot hinge myself on that.  It would just be another source of blame if another attempt did not end well: that I still haven’t done enough to take care of myself.

“I am not one of those who neglect the body in order to make of it a sacrificial offering for the soul, since my soul would thoroughly dislike being served in such a fashion.” -Rilke