Let's Try This Again, Shall We?

I am out of shape.

Yes, it's true. In the past, I have been in shape-- most notably in the years before Eva was born, when I was running on a treadmill twice per week and doing Ashtanga yoga that much or more. In those years, if it didn't involve me sweating to the point of wringing out my clothes, I did not consider it "exercise."

When I got pregnant with Eva, I kept up with the running and the yoga until it just started to feel...strange, or like there was a little too much bouncing around that really shouldn't have been. Then there was the all-consuming exhaustion of growing another human being to deal with, and then the all-consuming exhaustion of caring for said being once she arrived.

Once I weaned her at 14 months, I got a little boost in energy out of nowhere. It was odd-- almost as if my body had been holding something in reserve the entire time I was nursing, only allowing me to access it once she weaned. I joined a gym, and started working out with a semi-regularity that got me at least partially back to my former level of fitness.

Then Mr. Milkweed got a new job, we moved out of state, I got pregnant for the second time, and we bought a new house and moved again all within less than a year...and it all dissolved. There have been sporadic attempts here and there, but honestly? No. I have not been exercising.

I was so excited to get back to things with the c25k, but I just don't think my resting fitness level is good enough to start with running. My knees paid the price. I've got to start more slowly. I've got to reach down inside myself and give myself permission to be pathetic, which means...walking.

I used to read articles in my mother's impossibly futzy women's magazines about how one should walk several times per week for 20 minutes "for health." My eyes rolled so far back into their sockets they would practically stick there as I made fun of the pictures of soft thirty and forty-somethings power walking in their Chad's separates. I mean, COME ON, people. Walking is just the basic ambulatory way we make it from place to place, NOT an exercise routine.

Until it is.

So, here goes: I fully acknowledge that while I've never dropped a dime on a cotton-poly Chad's anything, I am, in fact, one of those soft thirty-something women now. I've got to start somewhere, and it's going to be with walking. So here's the new pledge-- for two months, starting this Thursday, I will walk for forty minutes three times per week, and then I will re-evaluate things. This is going to be in addition to the walking I already do with the kids, and any family excursions we typically take (such as the trek to the nearby farmer's market). I need to boost my fitness, not just maintain it, so there won't be any swapping out or subbing. I may throw in some yoga or gym workouts, too, but the bottom line is that before I can begin an athletic routine, I have to begin a pathetic one.