Ragnar Northwest Passage 2016

This past July I captained a Ragnar Relay team. (The team did all the hard work, I just signed us up and gave us a stupid name.) Twelve of my favorite running family members (and a couple friends who might as well be family) ran approximately 200 miles from the Canadian border to Langley, Whidbey Island through some of the Northwest's most impressive scenery (and a few boring fields).

I was six months pregnant at the time. Along with a challenging 9-mile hike I did with my dearest Adventure Friend, these were my crowning physical achievements of the summer and my pregnancy (apart from actually birthing Little Squish).

Our team was called "Help the Children." This was the design of our team shirt, along with a quote that said, "Let the children RUN to me." It was supposed to be a joke, but from a lot of the reactions I received, very nice Christians took it seriously, and were moved by the sweetness, and non-Christians thought we were weird Christians who made the Ragnar race a Jesus thing.

Here's how the race works:

 

After our first leg, my van stopped at Shari's for breakfast. It was pure diner food bliss. 

 

Pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, AND sausage!!!

Running long distances in the Northwest gives me a deeper appreciation for the variety and beauty of my home.

Thanks, Megan, Andrew, Jared, Mike, Melita, Dad, Uncle Brian, Lois, Lori, Anne Marie, Amy, and Uncle Jeff! We didn't come in last! Go team Help the Children!

Guts

Approximately 8 weeks ago, Little Squish was born via unplanned c-section. She's the best baby! She already has strong, kicky legs, which make me fantasize about her future as a runner.

Since my last big event in July, the only running I've done was a micro-jaunt across the Goodwill parking lot to return a shopping cart. And that was before I underwent major abdominal surgery.

I've always known that cesareans are a big deal. I was aware that to get to the baby, surgeons cut through skin, fat, fascia, muscle, and the uterus. What was a surprise was learning that anesthesia has a significantly lower effect on the left side of my body that the right. Weird! So while I very much appreciated my epidural and the numbing drugs of surgery, I could still feel contractions before the c-section and the repair part of surgery on the left side of my abdomen. Not good.

Another c-section surprise came from my kind and supportive anesthesiologist. As I experienced that left-side pain during surgery, she calmly explained that it probably hurt because my uterus was outside of my body. (!!!) Later I confirmed with my doula that that was a real thing that she really said. I was definitely loopy and don't recall telling the surgeons they might as well pierce my belly button while they were at it, so perhaps that whole uterus thing was a drug dream. But no, a little research confirmed that sometimes surgeons repair the uterus with the organ outside the body for easier access. (Happily my belly button remains unpierced.)

My recovery has been fast uncomplicated, although I have never experienced such terror at the thought of sneezing. I'm going to the gym, taking walks, and feeling stronger. I'm itching to run, and yet, there are still nagging fears about starting.


Fear #1: My incision is not healed enough and the intensity of running will make my midsection pop open and my guts will spill out all over the place. Obviously, this is an irrational fear, and yet it's an image I can't shake when I think about running again.

Fear #2: I'm physically too messed up and weak and I'll get injured and not be able to run. This fear comes from my tendency to overdo it when I'm excited about something. I'm impatient to get back to the runner I used to be and I sometimes forget that I'm weak. My joints are funky from the hormonal changes of pregnancy, my core is confused from surgery, and my muscles are under-toned after all those weeks of recovery. Training has to look different, which takes some mental and emotional adjustment.

Fear#3: I won't have time to train, so I won't make much improvement, so I will give up and never reach any goals or have fun or do anything I want to do for the next 18-30 years. I've only been a parent for 8 weeks. Hopefully I'll get better at finding a healthy balance.

Even though I carry these fears, there is this drive to pick up the pace. Now that Little Squish is out, Little Dude has some room to kick around again. When I walk, I feel full of energy and pep. Fizzy joy tingles in my legs and I want to go faster. I haven't run yet, but it will happen very soon.

I'm going to listen to my gut, keep building my strength, take it slow, and stop if something doesn't feel right. And hopefully my gut will stay firmly lodged in my torso as I take those first strides.