marathon

When I was pregnant with my first, I swore I’d be one of those women who wouldn’t let her running fall by the wayside.  Sure, I’d take six weeks off, but then I’d throw those running shoes back on.  I’d read about women like that.  It was just a matter of determination… …then the baby arrived… I’d been put into a shoebox, flipped over and spun around.  Every single thing I had done previously seemed impossible now.  It took me 45 minutes to prepare to meet a friend three blocks away. I couldn’t figure out how to make food and actually eat it. I braced myself for toe curling pain every time my tiny insatiable being dared need nourishment. When I was “cleared for physical activity” I gave it a go, desperate to climb out of my...