Since my surgery in June, I’ve been waiting. Waiting for every single thing. I thought for sure there would be a day when I’d know I was better, a day when I would be sure that all of the healing was finished and I was ready to resume my normal activities. The “right” day to run again. Or try yoga. Or get back on my bike… or, I don’t know… stand up for more than a few hours without getting a sore stomach.
That hasn’t happened. A day never came where I was like, oh, this is the day I’m so glad I had that surgery, because I feel amazing! Goodbye, uterus! This will not come as a surprise to anyone, but this is just one of the many times I was wrong about a finish line, a perfect moment in life when I would be happy because I’d have made it through something. Life keeps going, and there’s no perfect day–no moment of realization that it’s the right time to do anything, or the right time to be happy, or be “normal” or be anything other than what is happening that day. Still, I was hoping.
I really wanted a day where I was like yes, today, let’s run five miles again. Yes, let’s pick up that box of cat litter at Costco! Yes, let’s stand up and be a teacher all day. I am FINE!
That’s dumb, right?
This week, I’m sick of waiting. It’s time for me to start acting like myself again even if I don’t feel strong enough. (The doctor called Saturday–all clear and all good–it is taking me a long time to heal/scar properly, but there’s nothing bad happening in there. No cause for worry.) And now that I know I’m technically fine, I’m just a late-blooming, delicate friggin’ flower whose body doesn’t want to scar up efficiently, I am done pretending I need to wait.
One of my favorite things I’ve ever seen on the internet is this:
I can’t do this, but I’m doing it anyway.
Let’s embrace that, huh?
I think part of why I don’t feel like myself is that I am not active right now at all. I was moving much more and much more quickly after both c-sections. So even though my marathon days are done, I was a generally active person, pre-surgery. At least I was outside a lot. I miss moving and exercise and going out into the world. And I think since I’ve been sedentary, my core is weak and that makes me feel even more like I shouldn’t do anything.
Couch potato pal.
So I did something. Yesterday I took my plan for a test drive and hit the gym before work. I did the world’s slowest old lady mile on the treadmill, and then I lifted the smallest amount of weight possible. But I felt good. I felt like me.
Taking the world by storm, 17 minutes and 38 seconds at a time.