At about 8 weeks postpartum, I started doing gentle exercising. Little by little, testing the limits of my still-healing body. I also did a lot of thinking about logistics. Exercise with three kids? What a headache. Not going to work. Maybe I’d wait another week. And another. I didn’t exercise regularly with #1 for a long time, and with #2 it was almost a year until I started running again. I had time. But maybe I didn’t.

As I stared into the mirror at my deflated belly, I decided I wanted to start sooner rather than later.

Before I was pregnant with #3, I was running everyday with my husband and our double BOB stroller (with the two kids inside). It was our routine. We talked, planned, daydreamed. It was great having a workout buddy. I was in the best shape I’ve ever been in even after having two kids.

Now we have a newborn who can’t go into a jogging stroller until 6 months. We have a 5 year old who doesn’t want to go in a stroller. Now we have no time. Three kids. No energy. Conflicting schedules. A zillion reasons why I shouldn’t start running now.

No more excuses.

This week I ran for the first time since I was 17 weeks pregnant with #3. And then I ran a  second time. Today when my husband gets home, I’ll go for postpartum run #3. All by myself. Just me, my running shoes, and music. It feels amazing.

The hardest part was starting. Debating whether I could do it. Not wanting to do it alone. Feeling guilty about leaving the kids. Thinking about a new-old routine that got rusty as my body transformed and was busy doing other things (like growing and birthing and nursing a 10 lb baby).

11 weeks postpartum. Feeling better than ever. Independent. Feeling strong. Nothing’s gonna stop me now.

Slip that sports bra over my nursing tank, hand the baby over to my husband, find the perfect song on my phone, and off for a good mind-clearing, sweaty run all by my lonesome.

Why didn’t I figure this out 3 kids ago??

The best part about getting older is experience, growth, and the opportunity to live and learn.

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