A letter to the pregnant lady trying to run

I was a few steps behind you today as you went from a fast walk to an almost run. More like a lazy foot shuffle where you couldn’t quite get your feet to lift all the way off the ground. Your arms get pumping and you looked straight ahead as if you were staring at the finish line and wishing to be transported. Then you slowed down, a slower walk than before, a few quick but deep breaths. Your hand went to your belly as if to say, “okay we did it, let’s try it again.”

I was behind you as you tried again, your pace quickened, a quick reset to your earphones, a glance at your iPhone as if to say, “how is it possible 30 seconds can last so long?” Then you slowed again. Looking defeated but yet hopeful. Hand on your belly asking your running partner for one more chance. I think I heard you whisper, ” we can do this.”

The third time, You sped up a bit, your feet lifted a little higher, your arms swung, and then again you slowed. Looking down at your belly. Looking all around you. “Did anyone see that awful attempt?”

I was behind you as you power walked 4 more miles. Giving in to the feeling of defeat but shifting your energy, turning up your music, finding a different stride.

I was the WILL behind the pregnant lady trying to run. I was the VOICE saying try it again. I was the ONE saying how is this possible that I could run 6 miles 1 month ago and today I can hardly do 1 minute.

I was the CHEERLEADER who said you still are out here, on your two feet, in your cute maternity workout outfit, with your 6 month belly bump, and YES you WILL still cover those 6 miles even if you need to go a little slower and take 6 ladies room breaks.

I was the one saying you CAN do it.



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