i couldn’t stick the feeling

I am ordinary in appearance, but before baby I could easily feel beautiful, sexy. Not every minute of every day, but I had my mojo. I never struggled with body image the way so many other women seemed to. I appreciated how strong I was, tanned skin shining over the curves of muscle. My eyes were bright. There was a sway in my hips. 

A prenatal yoga teacher shared with our class that dissatisfaction with body image tends to peak around 6 months postpartum. I guess I paid attention, but it seemed inconceivable in the early days, right after I sweated and growled and with a holler pushed out my very own 9 lb wonder. I felt like a fucking warrior goddess, a many- armed Hindu diety, weapons shinning, tongue lolling, dancing on the edge of the world. Hell yes. 

I wasn’t able to stick the feeling, though. Soon, I felt dumpy, flabby. My self image plummeted right along with my estrogen levels. And I’m talking about feelings versus what the outside looks like, but I’m not the mama who “bounced back” after childbirth, whatever the fuck that means. 1 year later, overweight, overwrought, I certainly don’t look like I used to, but what bothers me the most is I just don’t feel beautiful anymore. 

I know I am. We humans ALL are. My feelings have nothing to do with reality. But misleading as it may be, this feeling of ugliness matters somehow, and I wish I could shake it. 

I know hiking helps. Dancing helps. Laughing helps. And nothing stays the same, so I know this feeling won’t either. But maybe this overstaying its welcome because I’m not done here, there’s something I need to learn or let go of or foster before this dissatisfaction can move on. 

endurance

I ran a half marathon yesterday.

I wasn’t always able to run. A large, physically awkward kid, I who would rather read a book than do much of anything else, and that included being active. I was consistently the slowest kid when we ran races at school and perpetually picked last when we formed teams in gym class. My mother kept encouraging me, and I learned the joy of moving my body in the ice skating classes she made me take.  Soon, I wasn’t quite so slow and awkward in gym class, but I still was no runner.

I started running in college to prove to myself that I could do it. It seemed difficult and unnatural during my first slogs through the streets, but over time I learned the joy of a breeze on my shoulders, the rhythmic pounding of my feet with matching breath.  I started running more and more and with my dad, and he spread the marathon bug to me.  In two years I ran 5 marathons, two half-marathons.  I was never fast, I was never even not-slow, but I could endure, and that’s really all that mattered, all that matters.

Dad went on to complete over 20 marathons, including qualifying for and running Boston, but I had to step away from marathons in 2007, after a disastrous race in Honolulu (painful on every level, it started with shivering in the rain while waiting for the race to start and ended with my then-husband telling me to go fuck myself after I hobbled, with blistered feet, across the line). My personal life was unraveling, and I became depleted on every level.  I couldn’t run 45 miles a week anymore. Some days it was all I could do to get out of bed.

But I kept running, albeit for shorter distances, through the divorce, through grad-school stresses,  through my mom’s illness and untimely death, and now, through the frustration of infertility.  What was once difficult and unnatural has now become part of me. Before I started my marathon of loss, I’m glad I had running to teach me that I’m stronger than I think.

the course was very challenging!
image retrieved from http://runkeith.blogspot.com/2012/03/half-marathon-and-mountain.html

Even now, as the load of grief over losing my mother is lightening a bit, I’m finding it difficult to fit in time for my long runs.  I was under trained for the half-marathon and my muscles are protesting terribly today.  I almost skipped the race entirely due to the undertraining, being out late at the opera the night before, etc.  But  I figured I could likely finish the race without an injury, so I went for it. Because I have the gift of health, and I’ll lose that too someday.  But before that happens, I’m going to use it.