This last weekend I was able to run in a way I haven’t be able to run in a long time. For the first time since having my son, I ran a whole 5 miles. I won’t say I was forgetting what running meant to me. However, I did find it easier to make excuses to skip runs. Then I finally pushed myself to get out there and run. While I was on a half a mile walking trail next to my work, I suddenly remembered how much I love this sport.

I have four children. With each child life as a mom looked a little different for me and priorities shifted. This last baby was no different. My whole focus is now a demanding little chunky baby with the bluest eyes and the chubbiest thighs. I understand that this is completely normal. After having a baby, jumping back into getting fit is the last thing anyone wants to do. From 2022 to 2023 I did more running then I have ever done. After training and successfully running my first full marathon I was drained. The pregnancy and the birth of my son was a welcomed break to do absolutely nothing.

After I had my six week check up and got clearance from doctor. I was ready to get back to running, though it felt differently now. I knew I couldn’t just go out and run ten miles like it was nothing. I hadn’t run in over almost year. I felt so defeated all my hard work was just gone. I was starting all over. I was back at square one, and it was overwhelming. Doubt and negativity crept into my brain. I began to tell myself, “Maybe you just had that one good year of running. Perhaps that was it.” I ran a full marathon. I proved to myself that I could do it after feeling like that was something I could never do. I can cross it off my bucket list and move on, though the thoughts of returning to running stayed with me.

I started back with cycling on my Peloton, yoga sessions, and light strength exercises even though things were hard, which just put more fear into me about lacing up my beloved running sneakers. No one was pushing me except me to get back to running. The thought of starting over was horrible. My mind kept returning to “I will just have to start.” I was not going to allow myself to give up running. It may look different after pregnancy, but it wasn’t something I could give up. My first run was a mile that my husband joined me for. Toddler, infant, and puppy all in tow we started down our new drive for our walk/run. A week after giving birth we moved into the house we had been working on for eight plus years. New baby plus moving? It was a hectic, but a blissful, time.

So, I traded out paved city streets for red dirty country roads. The first mile on a different terrain felt tough. The roads had a lot more hills and rocks. It feels more like trail running out here. It was a fun time because my little three year old was running besides me. My three year old was keeping pace with me. That was where I was starting at with running. Granted, he is a pretty fast three year old with actually good form. Possibly a future running partner.

Over the next couple of weeks I went on a handful of runs. A mile or two here and there. Each left me with a feeling of accomplishment of getting out the door. However, I also felt sadness that I was struggling with such a short distances. The entire time I am running I am thinking this is so hard. I am counting the minutes until it was over. I wasn’t enjoying myself.

Then there was the whole getting back to a consistent running schedule and finding the time to run. Before, I would wake up early and run before anyone gets up. Now, I live out in a heavily wooded area with no street lights, no houses gently lighting my path. Just pure darkness. I am thankful for the distance from town. I appreciate the quietness of country life. However, the darkness out here is just different. I have lights but it is still terrifying to run out on these pitch black back roads. If I ran in the afternoons I would take my toddler in the jogging stroller. Now, I have an infant plus the toddler hates the jogging stroller. Afternoons are a no go. Evenings I want to spend time with my family. By the time they are home its again pitch black. Time is a currency that I currently broke in.

I have no time, no consistency, and felt difficulty on runs. It was starting to feel like running is no longer for me. I started questioning my decision. What did I get myself into signing up for a marathon? Before I really started giving running a chance again. Before my body felt like mine again.

I had worked all night. During the hours leading up to 6:30 am, I went back and forth about running after work. I was so tired from working all night. I texted my husband with complaints of feeling sleepy. I missed him and didn’t want to be away from him. He only simply replied “You need to run.” This was not the text I wanted him to give me. I was looking for an out. Give me a reason any reason, just to come home. He knows that after I slept I would be beating myself for not going. I changed out of my work clothes into my running clothes, and nibbled on my graham crackers. Then I finally said all the thoughts I have been having out loud to my co worker. I wondered if it would be okay if I just quit? Would I like myself if I gave up running? Would it be okay if I didn’t run another race or marathon? I asked myself these questions. I didn’t have an answer.

The walking trail near work is just a half mile, but it’s close to work and populated. As a woman, if you know you know. This is what I have to do when I am on shift. If I drove the hour commute home to run, I would just go straight to bed. Despite all the negative feelings. The overwhelming urge to just sleep. I stepped on to that running path that morning with the goal of running 54 minutes. Can I do this? Could I still be a runner?

The first lap does not feel good. I am out of breath and my hips hurt. “In through the mouth out through the nose,” I repeat to myself over and over again. No way I can keep this up for 50 minutes. It’s half a mile, and I am dying. Somewhere between 2.50 and 3 miles I start to find that comfort that feels familiar. By mile 4 I am smiling and it doesn’t even feel like I am running. I am mouthing along to the music lyrics in my ears. I smile at the walkers I pass by, and enjoy watching the sun climb up in the sky. My watch alerts me 54:00 minutes run over, but I am at 4.76 miles and I can’t stop so close to 5 miles. I sprint the last bit and finish right at 5 miles. My average pace for the run was 12.21/mile. When I finished, I was struggling to catch my breath, my heart pound. I grabbed a sidewalk railing to stretch and laid my forehead down on the cool metal. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and I could feel the smile on my face. This was the feeling I chasing. I can still run. Running still brings me happiness.

I am still a runner. I will always be a runner.

Cash joins me on my short runs of 30 minutes or less. He is still a young puppy, only 5 months. Even so, he runs right beside me. He keeps me company on the days that feel extra hard.