Thursday, February 21, 2013

For a Season

I am not a big exercise buff.  Though I've heard others make comments that I am. 

Really, truthfully, I don't really like exercising.  I mean...it's HARD.  It doesn't FEEL all that good at the time.  It takes TIME which I could be spending otherwise (read: wasting hours on pinterest).  I have to make an EFFORT as opposed to just going with the flow. 

About 3 years ago, I decided that weight was not going to magically melt off my body and that I wasn't burning enough calories by chewing food.  Rats!  So I started going to the gym with a friend of mine and low and behold I lost 30 pounds. 

I won't lie, a big part of me said, "Crap!  That worked.  Now I have to keep going." 

So I kept going.  I took classes because I was pretty convinced if I didn't I would just find a bench somewhere and take a massive nap.  I enjoyed the classes and laughed at the other people there who were funny or not so much.  The social part was enjoyable.  I still hated the exercise.  But it allowed me to eat so I made my peace with it.

I actually only kept up because the emotional and mental high afterward was enough to keep me going.

I stuck with it until I was about 14 weeks pregnant with Hunter.  At which time I found some of it was becoming too strenuous so I cut back to just walking all by my lonesome self on the treadmill.  And of course then Hunter was born and I was expressly forbidden by my doctor and a nurse friend of mine from exercising. 

So just last week I got to go back to the gym and walk on the treadmill again.  I won't say it felt good physically, but the emotional high was there again.  It seems like just yesterday that I was hobbling out of the hospital wondering if I would ever feel physically normal again.  A c-section recover is no joke.  At the time, it really seems like you'll never feel good again.

A friend of mine happened to be running on the treadmill next to me a few nights ago.  She asked if I had been back to classes and I said sadly, "No.  I really miss my spinning class.  That was fun." 

Weird isn't it how this thing we think we hate becomes a normal part of life and then when it is gone we sort of miss it? 

In that moment I realized how much I really did miss going to spinning class and busting my butt for 45 minutes and then going home to a house full of still-sleeping people, taking my shower and getting my breakfast before anyone woke up for the day.  I missed those days.

Surely, I am glad for my little baby boy.  He is a good sleeper and I feel like a human instead of a zombie.  I would not trade him for anything in the world.  But there is this quiet part of me that yearns for some of the freedoms of the pre-baby days at times. 

I was dwelling on this weird balance of emotions when my friend said, "Yeah.  That will come back again.  This is just a great season in your life.

Hello perspective from a godly friend!

This is a season.  I can't just pick up and go.  I spend almost all of my time either feeding Hunter or rushing around to get chores done.  I am busy with three small children who have various needs.  I haven't taken an uninterrupted shower in...months.  I go 8 days at a time without leaving the house some weeks.  I get about 6 hours of good sleep (which, admittedly is a lot for a mom of a newborn).

And I could easily be frustrated by all of that.  But recognizing that this is just a season which will soon pass me by allows me to see it for what it is and to be thankful instead.  I am thankful for this change of pace. 

For now, sitting in an empty spinning studio and doing my own workout all by myself is good.  It will still be there when Hunter is sleeping longer in the mornings.  But Hunter will only be a baby for a little while.

In this season, I will simply enjoy working out on my own time.  And one day, I'll be able to start taking classes and "hating" exercise all over again.

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