Sunday, November 14, 2010

Just as fast as you can

Saturday & Sunday mornings are a little like this: The boys rise, anywhere between 6 - 7am (if we're lucky). I give Felix a feed. Prepare brekky for Angus (and sometimes Scott, if he's lucky). Then it's out the door for an hour of excruciatingly satisfying beach running.

Coogee Beach is approximately 500 metres in length and right now, I am running from 6 to 8 laps, on dry sand. It is bloody tough yards and most weekend mornings, 3km on dry sand is not something I overly wish to tackle. But afterwards, Oh! it is so worth it. It's cliche and a little on the corny side, but the surge of adrenalin it creates within, makes me a MUCH happier Mama, wife, everything!

Both of my pregnancies brought about massive physical change (ah yes, obviously) and in turn restrictions to my beloved exercise routine. I am a person who quite simply, just needs exercise. From around the 30 week mark, my hands, feet, legs... hell, even knees, swelled to gigantic proportions and rendered me almost incapable of getting out and amongst it to exercise (with the exception of some light walking, or more accurately waddling).

I don't believe in scales, or weighing myself, or counting kilos. It's just never been my thing. I am more for feeling good about myself in my clothing and staying healthy. But during my second pregnancy, I went with an obstetrician and he insisted on weighing me in at every appointment. SO, at my first appointment (approx 12 weeks pregnant) I came in at 56 kilos (big whoop! didn't know if this was good or bad or otherwise). As each visit passed. Each weigh in recorded. Each kilo gained. I couldn't have been more nonchalant... because hey, you get pregnant, you eat healthy (ALOT & OFTEN) and it's a good thing for 'the baby'. Right? 

Well. It was the last weigh in at 38 weeks that really slapped me in the face. HARD. I tipped the scales at 79 kilos! Now, as I said, I don't kilo count, or even think about kilos in general, but seeing that number and realising I had gained 23 KILOS really rattled my cage (and may I add, THIS is why I'm not a fan of scales!). Now, as I churn and burn up the sand on these Saturday and Sunday mornings, I can feel every kilo of that extra weight I gained. When I FINALLY get back into my beautiful jeans (a personal goal and the clothing item I am missing most) it will feel SO damn good and such an achievement. Until then, I'll be running as fast as I can go.
Also, this weekend, I had a delightful outing with all 3 of my boys. Lunch, a walk and some beach time at good ol' Bondi. Just the thing to do on such a spectacular spring Sunday.


Angus was quite taken with this dolphin sculpture... and seeing his adorably cheeky grin, I am quite taken with him.

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