Fine Lines

I’m not terribly good at anything divided by a fine line. When I was a kid, it was the fine line between “being myself” and being obnoxious. When injured, the fine line between recovery and over-doing it.  In relationships, the fine line between taking care of myself and being selfish. The fine line between being honest, and being ruthless. The fine line between idealistic and impractical. The fine line between being committed to a cause and being overzealous.  The fine line between helping and enabling…

Right now there are two fine lines that are driving me batty and I just want to snap them! One being the line between being “sweet to myself” and not beating myself up for all the things that go undone, and holding myself accountable to a set of realistic standards and expectations that are part of the life of my dreams.

La Madre will be back here again someday

  I want my regular level of fitness back. I know that it is attainable. I know how terrific I feel when I am at my default level for optimal life performance. I know that women all over the universe are fit and healthy while pregnant and with children.  I was fit and healthy during my first pregnancy…it was only after the miserable birth experience that 35 years worth of core development was severed in less than 30 seconds. In the six months I had before learning I was pregnant again, I did not get it back. I got close. I was able to run and hike and bike and practice yoga and take a spinning class and march up steep hills and ski and carry Critter everywhere I went. But I was doing all those things in some strange foreign body that never quite fit. Now I’m in an even stranger new body that i am not totally in love with. It is not a vain thing I don’t think. It is not about the way it looks. It is about how it feels. I’m still doing all those activities, but I never really feel great. I’m sore and achy and some body part or other seems to be bothering me at all times. I cannot remember the last time I felt truly great inside this “temple” of mine. I came back to Wyoming with what I thought were realistic goals. I thought I’d find the way to have moderate to vigorous activity everyday. Thought I’d get up early and go for a ski at least three days a week. Thought I’d be riding my bike to town to check the mail at the post office. Thought I’d be taking work breaks and sprinting up Nelly’s Knoll. Thought I’d be feeling stronger and fitter each day.  But it hasn’t happened that way. Most days don’t play out the way I hope.

 I can list off a bazillion reasons and excuses for why those things aren’t happening…and I can be “sweet to myself” and not hyper-focus negativity on not living up to my own expectations. Or I can get my act together and live the life I dream of. It is a very agonizing fine line.

My bike will be one of my little training partners

When I was not able to exercise at all for six weeks after Critter was born, I thought I was going to lose my marbles. It is the only real (or healthy) way I know to manage stress…and life was certainly a tad more stressful in those six weeks than it ever had been before. EVERYONE said “it is only 6 weeks” “it’ll go by fast” “you won’t even remember that this happened” “oh, but isn’t she worth it”.  Time never felt like it moved more slowly. I could not wait. I know that everyone’s advise was well intentioned – but I wanted to just kick them in the face. Of course she was worth it…but that did not change how I felt without moving my body in some vigorous manner for 6 whole weeks! When the day finally came, I hopped on my bike, and Daddio gave me a 2-hour start. I rode out Horse Creek Road to the forest boundary – uphill the whole way. When Daddio finally reached me I stashed my bike in the bushes and rode out to Double Cabins with him and Critter (and his parents) in the car. I was so whooped that when we got back to my bike later in the afternoon, I had to just throw it in the car  ’cause I couldn’t even ride it back to the cabin downhill the whole way! I FELT GREAT!!!

I don’t want to let myself off the hook for not following through with the goals that I set for myself. I do take the time to reflect on all the things that I HAVE done – and there has been plenty. Probably still doing more than most pregnant peeps out there. But that is not the standard I hold myself to. What I need is La Madre’s help. Writing about it each day is supposed to help.

My super hero friends will be my other little training partners.

 I went to yoga class this evening. And all I could think about is all the exercise I haven’t done. I need to come to terms with this line. And I will. And perhaps once I do, it will help me deal with the fine line between knowing that it won’t always be this way – looking forward to the future and yet being completely present in the moment.

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