I've always been pretty athletic. I started running in 3rd grade because my much older sister was a national high school track and cross-country champion. Being 8 years old and believing that anything is possible and easy, I just knew that I would someday be a national champion as well. In fact, I would be so good that I would break ALL of her records, including a 4:43 1600m time…HA. Well, I got older, and that didn't happen. While I was very promising for my age, I never got to that point. I think my best was like 5:15 or something, if that. Then, running put a bitter taste in my mouth during high school, and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.
Fast forward a couple years, and I started running again. It was something that I thought I would never be able to be really good at again unless I had a coach. Instead, I pressed on without a coach and finished my first marathon. Then came my true love: CrossFit. After CrossFitting for about a year, I ran my second marathon and lowered my time by 90 minutes (yes, NINETY minutes, as in, an hour and a half).
That second marathon was incredible. I finished it in 4:23 and was absolutely blown away. The day after, I was able to walk and carry on with my life unlike the first marathon where I was essentially an invalid for about 5 days. I hardly even "trained" for this one in the typical running sense. The most I had run was 6 miles, and I had done that MAYBE 3 times…maybe. Instead, I was doing a lot of heavy lifting, HIIT, some sprints, and eating pretty hardcore Paleo. Oh, and did I mention my SIX PACK? It was glorious, just glorious. I continued doing some 10ks and half marathons sprinkled here and there.
Now here I am 7 months after giving birth, and my mommy brain can't do simple math (or doesn't want to) to tell me how long it has been since my bod felt it was in its athletic prime. I just finished a fitness test for my job and was still able to score a 96.9% which is no easy feat. I should be proud, excited, happy, and yet, I am none of these things. For the first time in the last 5 years, that test was HAAAARRD. The one aspect that I wasn't worried about--the run--was the absolute worst part of it, to the point where my teeth hurt afterwards. Ugh.
I look in the mirror, and I try to keep it positive, but, damn you Instagram, WHY-OH-WHY do I always stumble across the moms who are showing off their righteous bods 2 hours after giving birth. Oh yeah, and by the way, they have zero stretch marks even though they gained 60lbs during the 9 or 10 month long process. What the EFF? Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one that gained the weight, got tons of stretch marks, and lost a significant part of my hairline (side note: my hairline is filling in quite nicely…thank goodness! I was beginning to worry that I would start to bald before my husband did).
These super moms, are super everything. Super hot, super blond, super fit, super sexy, super booby, super perfect makeup, super freezer meals, super cloth diapering, super Imawesomeandmakeitlooksoeasyandmyvaginadidnttearandimhavingabunchofsexandmybabyis2monthsandcanspeakSpanish. STOP THE MADNESS.
It's a struggle every day to look in the mirror and see that my once flat stomach now has strange humps in it and the skin looks kind of like fried chicken skin when I smoosh it together. Ultimately, I know that while some days I feel like a total disaster, I'm doing the best I can, and you know what? I'm a great mom. No, I'm an amazing mom. I work full-time, I've been able to exclusively breastfeed (obviously, you are still great mom if you needed to supplement. No judgement here), and my son is amazing! I'm doing great...even though I feel like a crap a lot of the time.
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