Exercise is Not Just Getting Off the Couch

In hindsight, I had two clues that this round of Clomid took. The first was that I started thinking about mozzarella sticks and nachos, foods I haven’t eaten in months / years. The second was that on a quick walk to get some lunch, I found myself a little out of breath, something that would never normally happen.

Like the rest of the time, when you’re pregnant, you should get 4-5 workout sessions of 30-60 minutes per week. Except when you’re pregnant, getting up the flight of stairs is twice the challenge it used to be and your heart rate is supposed to stay below 145. And heavy weight lifting is out.

Tell this to the fat jogger who loves nothing more in the world than BodyPump. Immediately, my preferred forms of exercise was out. (I’d actually been told to stop jogging earlier than that, to avoid ovary torsion.*) Which meant that my weekly Pilates was still fine until the first trimester, according to my instructor,** yoga was good and then I had to do the elliptical. I find the elliptical to be the personification of boredom. Plus, now my dog is super antsy because we aren’t jogging any more. Plus, with nausea, heartburn and fatigue, the idea of lacing up my sneakers and heading to the gym is… not appealing. I switched from Wednesday BodyPump to Wednesday Zumba, which is great. I used to love an old Zumba class and this instructor is super fun.

But, again, as I am hitting the magical second trimester, a lot of this is resolving and I am having the energy to get my workout routine where it used to be. The midwife gave me the OK to do jog/walk intervals, so my dog will love me again, AND the OK to do BodyPump with very light weight the entire time, so I will love my life again.

The hardest part of exercising while pregnant is that you can’t push. I’m a pusher. I’m a run until my feet fall off, let’s see how high I can kick, sure, let’s add 10 pounds for this biceps track kind of exerciser. I love being sore the next day and wear it with a badge of pride. But I can’t do that anymore. Doing 30 gentle minutes on the elliptical doesn’t feel like work to me. I barely sweat. But, somehow, I have stopped being just me. Though I am my own distinct individual, I am also strangely making another one and by being gentle to myself, I am being gentle to it. It’s a process, but I’m doing my darnedest.

*Is that or is that not a terrifying thing? I’m terrified!

**Pregnancy Pilates is actually a thing, but not a thing that my student instructor knows about, apparently.

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