I ran five miles!
I completely don’t care that I’m slow.
My calf didn’t hurt!
Until the next morning.
But so far, so not so bad: my calf is a little sore but nothing crazy like the strain that put me out of commission for two weeks that happened after my first three miles.
I needed to run out some anger, some sadness, some trapped in a cageness.
That was Saturday. Sunday I did my spin class of one again. I wish my gym would offer a class later than 8 a.m. on Sundays. I know most people like to get their workouts out of the way on the weekends, but you’d think they’d have one measly little class at, say, 11 or 4 p.m. I’d even offer to teach it. Maybe. I’m too tired to commit to “performing” in front of a group, which is what teaching a fitness class partly means.
Friday my husband took a half day which meant I got the unexpected chance to go to a class at the gym, so I took an awesome strength class that had us doing 75 pushups by the end. I feel some of my strength returning!
What else? I’m still tired, hanging onto fifteen pounds of extra weight, and my baby is still suffering from reflux pain.
I’m trying out different ways of giving him his PPI meds, since timing around an empty stomach is close to impossible with a nursing on demand, non-napping baby. Tried Zegerid with Mylanta…he puked it all up. Poor babe.
I’m hoping the pediatrician can help some more on Wednesday. Or not, since they aren’t that great with reflux. In the meantime the meds we are managing to get down there are working and he’s eating (and napping!) better already.