Dreaming & Chasing Goals

It has been almost a month since I have left Corporate America. So far, I’ve helped my husband at his firm and I’ve kept our 16 month old daughter alive and occupied during the day. My decision to leave the workforce was based on many reasons: our daughter’s severe food allergies, helping my husband build his tax firm, making our house a home and of course: running. Some people reading this will think: jeez, she’s really got something good in the pipe if she thinks she is going to make a career out of ‘running’, or ‘so much for that $100K MBA she had to have…..

At the end of the day, when our heads are on our pillows and we are thinking about what is to come versus what we did that day.. Every night I stared into darkness and thought, “there has to be something more than this (re: corporate work), how am I supposed to live a FULL life if I am constantly thinking I WISH I COULD?”….  I wish I could spend more time with my daughter. I wish I could make dinner for my husband (who has time after a full days work). I wish I could hit those runs. I wish I had more time….. I felt like the days were being taken from me, by the hands of corporate America – with very little payment. When I’m old and grey the last thing I want to do is look back and think “Why didn’t I?”

With all that being said…. I quit my job, signed my kid up for Gymboree, bought a few cook books – and some kick ass new running shoes. Just within the last few weeks – my passion for running has grown immensely, the Texas temperatures have dropped and my runs have never felt stronger. I’ve realized my child has some work to do on her manners and my cooking is sub-par, but improving….

Did I make a really hard decision to leave a great salary at an incredible organization? Yes. Did I make the wrong decision? I don’t think so. When I’m old and grey, my child has the etiquette of a royal, my recipes are being passed down to my grandchildren and my husband demands I make his favorite meal…. and my Olympic Qualifying Time is on official record… I’ll die a happy, happy woman.

There, I said it.. My goal over the next few years: Olympic Qualifying Time.



Long term – A quickie.

Its a Saturday night. My running partner Landi came over this evening and we spent the night watching Disney movies and drinking wine. Its funny how things change when you have a child. Going out seems pointless – just because I am so tired from being mom, runner, housekeeper, wife, co-worker… Its all a little overwhelming at times. So now, I sit at my husbands double screen computer with a glass of red wine, a large glass of water/NUUN and I am studying my running training plan for the next few weeks.10600567_10102092741087256_1265931143728518262_n

Its interesting how training has taken a new role since the birth of my daughter. Its still, if not more, important for me to get my scheduled runs done. Especially in the morning hours – by the time the baby is asleep, bottles are washed, dinner is eaten – the last thing I want to do is go run. I typically want to be in bed at 8pm.


First Podium Finish

10847876_10100733005323298_6182093346809776303_nI think one thing that has been hard for me to wrap my brain around is my comeback. Others may say, wow – great job Kel.. But I don’t see it that way. I want to just snap  back and run my fast paces with my friend Landi, try to chase my mentor and RD Catherine through the park at 5am.. Its not that simple anymore. Now, I am happy with my progress – I ran a double digit run today, at a solid pace – and I finally started to just go on autopilot, like I used to. 1920232_10102121343986816_6022890932330016485_nI also recently stood on the podium for the first time. A pretty amazing feeling, and I know why Landi said its addicting. (She’s been killing it this year – Ms. Triathlete!)

Running long distance is my absolute favorite type of run. There is something to be said about zoning out, checking out of this crazy thing called life and just breathing in the fresh crisp outside air. There are a few things that haven’t changed in my heart – regarding my running career. I still want to compete. I still thirst for that “local elite” status and I will get there. I get flustered with the idea of having another child, selfishly, because it throws my training off. I think, how am I supposed to hit that level – when I’m sidelined for almost a year being pregnant and popping out a child? My last (and only) pregnancy was so stressful, high risk and bed rest aren’t what an athlete want. I yearned so badly to be one of those 9 month pregnant runners – but my body just wouldn’t let me.

10850118_10102132526751466_2009237126438745058_nSo going forward… I still have one goal I want to hit. I want to hit local elite. What is that, you may ask? Its fast. Really fast. I plan to slowly chip away at this post-preggo speed and get back to the paces I was running pre-baby. Even when I hit that, I need to be faster. Train harder. Eat leaner. I think, and I know – its doable. With the support of my “dream team” – my coach Mark, my RD Catherine, my speedy sidekick Landi – I can do it.

I hope to keep you readers posted on my journey… and I hope in the next few years.. To reach my lofty goal.. Local Elite.

My battle with Hot Yoga

Yoga Rant for the Evening: A week ago, my dad surprised me by telling me that he has been frequenting YogaOne, a yoga studio here in Houston – and has been getting his sweat on in the Hot Yoga class. Needless to say, I was very impressed and a little taken aback that he was also sporting some fancy Lululemon shorts. He threw out “You should come join me”.. Challenge accepted old man in yoga shorts.

Well, today I met him and his wife for an hour of hot yoga. Now, before I get into this – I’ve been to plenty of Hot Yoga classes. I always compete with some yogi in the front row, hate it when teachers adjust me and get a pretty good workout in. Today was different… For the first time, Yoga actually was spiritual. Strangely spiritual.

I never understood all the yogi who fall passionately in love with their “practice”. It still doesn’t make much sense to me. As a runner, an obsessive and way-too-competitive-with-myself runner, I enjoy the intensity of running. The stress of it. I am classified as a type-A granola. Today, as I was trying to chatranaga or whatever they actually say during the poses, I found myself taking these long inhales and exhales (all while trying not to pass out from the heat) and the other people in the room sort of drifted away. It was like I stood alone (at the opening of a volcano) and my breathing sort of took over my body and became the air. The poses were tough, especially after my c-section, some I couldn’t quite try yet – but it was a really fun class. I did notice my dad was killing it – and it made me happy that he has found something that he enjoys! I sort of understand now, why people love yoga. Its not a lose weight and feel great sport.

Its a find yourself and breathe in your workout. This sounds even stranger as a type it. Yoga is definitely challenging for me, I’m not super flexible and hate being the worst in the class – but I know its a great way to “restore” my body, making it stronger for runs.

There is something to be said for yoga. It took on a “fad” lifeline, like pilates, now barre… But yoga – there is something about breathing in your workout and releasing it. I actually may try this yoga thing a bit more often, just maybe in a cooler room.

Holy sweatfest. #dehydrated

Rant Over.

The birth of our daughter.. Amelia Grace.

Welcome to the world Amelia Grace!

**Warning, this post has details that some may find troubling.. There are NO graphic pictures**

It’s been  4 weeks and 3 days since our daughter was born. Its been a whirlwind of emotions; highs and lows, but when I look at her – and she gazes back up at me – I couldn’t ask for a more perfect blessing. I want to tell her birth story before my memory gets hazy. Her birth was not what my husband and I had planned for, prepared for – or even dreamed of. It was traumatic, scary and full of anxiety.

At 32 weeks pregnant, my doctor diagnosed me with Polyhydramnios. Basically I had way too much amniotic fluid in the sac and the levels were increasing. The doctor suspected there was an obstruction in our baby’s esophagus, and told us that she would need surgery when she was born. I remember calling my husband and explaining what the doctor had told me. I cried on the phone with him, tried to stay strong in his eyes – but my heart was broken. There was something wrong with our baby and my body wasn’t cooperating. The excess fluid made me have contractions every 3-5 minutes. There was nothing the doctor could do but put me on bed rest to try and keep our daughter cooking a little longer. Our goal was 38 weeks. He also told me that he would like to perform an amnio reduction – to alleviate some of my discomfort, since my belly was measuri

ng at 38 weeks and I was only 32. This procedure has risks, since they stick a giant needle into your stomach, through the uterus into the sac and drain out excess fluid – all while I am awake and trying to keep my body from jump starting labor. The risks didn’t out weight the reward – so we went for it.

The Amnio-Reduction

As I laid on the hospital bed, husband by my side, doctor on on side of me prepping my stomach with iodine and organizing the needles and tubes, another doctor on the left side of me watching the baby via an ultrasound and heart rate machine, and a nurse at my feet rubbing my feet and legs to keep me calm.. We started the procedure. They don’t numb you for a procedure like this, because the skin may be numb, but the uterus isn’t. I watched my doctor pick up a giant needle, about 10 inched long – he told me to take a deep breath and he poked through my layers of skin – not so bad, just felt like a shot. He told me to take a few deep breaths and relax as much as I could while he poked through the uterus wall. He said I would feel heavy cramping. As he pushed the needle through the uterus wall – I tried to breath and squeeze my husbands hand – once he punctured the wall – fluid began to drain through the attached tubes and into what looked like a big mason jar. As we watched the ultrasound machine to make sure our baby wasn’t getting close to the needle, my body began to react. My contractions began to get very strong, the needle through my uterus had sent me into labor. Our doctor stopped the procedure and pulled the needle out with some force, since my uterus was rock hard. He had removed a liter of fluid (thats almost 2 pounds!). He immediately started an IV to stop my contractions. After 3 or 4 bags of fluid, magnesium and several hours, my contractions eventually stopped. My doctor came back in with a look of relief and said, “I thought I had made things worse.. Back on bed rest and lets try to keep this baby in”.

Assessment & Our Baby’s Heart Rate

Another week of bedrest, and my contractions had started again. My belly was much smaller for about 24 hours and then at the next ultrasound – my fluid levels had increased again. We were in the ultrasound room, and the doctor was looking at our baby’s stomach – she was not emptying the fluid she was swallowing. More frightening news that I got to deliver to my husband. The immediately sent me to the NST (Non-Stress Test) to check the baby’s movements and heart rate – along with my contractions.  Within 20 minutes of contractions, they noticed our baby was reacting to the contractions – so they sent me to triage to get a better assessment of the baby’s heart rate. As I sat in a wheelchair (I couldn’t walk with the contractions) I called my husband and told him, he may need to come to the hospital – the baby was reacting to the contractions. Again, I tried to stay strong, but the tears streamed down my face. While I was in the triage, the doctor on call came in and said that she didn’t think my body could handle carrying the baby much longer – and that it was in our (the baby and I) best interest to go to labor and delivery. She checked me and I was not dilated and about 30% effaced. No where ready to have a baby. At this point I called my husband and told him… Its go time.

Labor and Delivery – Part 1

I arrived at L&D, and was excited, nervous – and ready for our daughter to come greet us! My husband was at the hospital within 30 minutes of me telling him it was “go time”.. He was such a trooper through this entire process!! The doctors came in and told me that even with my contractions, I was not dilating. To move things along, they would insert a balloon into my closed cervix, and “blow it up” to start my dilation. A few doctors came in and they found, during this horribly painful procedure, that my cervix was extremely high and interior – meaning the opening wasn’t a “straight shot”. This procedure took about 20 minutes and was intense, fast, hot pain. I say “hot” pain because my entire body felt like it was on fire when they forced air into the balloon and forced my cervix open to 2 cm. I asked them for drugs – to take the edge off – but not an epidural. Getting an epidural could slow things down – and we were already looking at a very long, LONG labor. The doctors gave me something through my IV.. and it went horribly wrong. I started to feel my legs tingle and my arms, and hands tingle. I felt woozy, too woozy. Machines started to beep loudly, too loud. Doctors and nurses rushed in and I started to panic, I felt like I was about to pass out. I started to have tunnel vision and I could barely move my arms and legs… My blood pressure was dropping fast. They lifted my head and threw an oxygen mask on my face. I started to try and take deep breaths to calm my body down. If I calmed down – our unborn baby would calm down. With my dropping (very low) blood pressure – our baby was under stress. It took about 15-20 minutes, but my blood pressure started to level out again. Even though it stayed low enough for the machines to beep every 30 minutes, it was stable. I was stable and our daughter was stable. The doctor came in and told us he hadn’t seen a reaction like that to the drugs. So he was very wary about giving me any other drugs…

Back to laboring… The doctors wanted to wait for the balloon to do its job, and open me to at least 5cm before giving me pitocin. My contractions grew stronger, but were manageable. They weren’t too painful, yet. After a few hours the doctors came in to check me – I was still only 1cm dilated. The balloon had failed. My body was not responding to the procedure.

So now what….. Well the doctors wheeled in a ultrasound machine to check our daughters position – they would break my water is she was head down – and that would get things moving. Within 2 seconds of the ultrasound machine touching my stomach, we had MORE disheartening news. She was head up. She was in such a head up (oblique breech) position that my only option was a c-section, and not just any old c-section – a classical c-section.. That is a vertical incision and also meant that any future children would have to be a c-section, my option of a VBAC would be out of the question. However, there was light at the end of this tunnel. With all my extra fluid, the doctor was certain that he could successfully perform what they call an “aversion”. This procedure is where they manually (from just touching your belly) move the baby into a head down position. They would pop my water once they moved her head down, and she would sink into the birth canal – and I would be able to have a vaginal delivery. My other option was a classical c-section.. I looked at my husband and said – lets do it.

The Aversion & The First Scare.

They wheeled me into the Operating Room, because if there was any hiccup, they would need to perform an emergency c-section and get our daughter out of me asap! I was nervous, I was nervous about my daughter, my baby who was comfortably nested in my belly. I started to shiver and shake – and the doctors put me on oxygen and told me to try and relax, breathe deeply.. I don’t really remember them talking to me – but I just stared up at my sweet husband, who was rubbing my head and telling me everything was going to be just fine. This was a little bump in the road to get our daughter out safely.

The procedure itself is pretty straight forward. One doctor was on my left side, the other on my right side and a nurse with the ultrasound machine to  see where baby girl was positioned. They started to push down on my belly and slowly flip our baby into the head down position. The pressure was almost intolerable. They pushed so hard down on my stomach, like the deepest tissue massage you NEVER want. All of a sudden they stopped. There was no heartbeat. The doctors began to talk between themselves..

“There are no fetal tones. Can we search for fetal tones” Thump thump. “That is mothers heart beat, can we search for fetal tones”. I immediately began to ask.. “What’s wrong? Where is her heart beat? Is everything ok?” No one answered me. The room was so quiet, you could hear the medical staff breathing. No fetals tones. My mind began to cloud with the terrifying thoughts.. We lost her. We lost our baby.  We knew there was risks involved in this procedure, we knew it could stress our baby.

I held my breath and just looked at my husband Chris. Thump thump.. Thump Thump.. Fetal Tones. I burst into uncontrollable tears, sobbing, relief that our baby was ok. You could almost hear the doctors breath a sigh of relief. Those brief moments of despair seemed to last for an eternity. My husband told me to calm down, to try and relax so we could finish the procedure. I couldn’t, I sobbed and tried to breath, but it just made me shake more uncontrollably. The doctor on my right decided it was time to pop my water, then our daughters head would start to move down into the birth canal. She popped my water and due to my polyhydramnios – water gushed everywhere. Eventually, the procedure was a success. I was told that they would move me back to Labor and Delivery, start me on Pitocin and I would labor for a little longer, and would push out a baby.

Labor and Delivery – Part 2

I remember laying in the hospital bed, breathing through the contractions as they became stronger and stronger – that I would soon hold this tiny little miracle. This baby girl, who may need to be rushed off to a NICU – and I remember looking at my husband who was helping me breathe and time the contractions – and I was scared. We were told that since I was barely dilated that I would be in active labor for 12+ hours. So we knew we were in for the long haul. I labored all night and into the early morning. The contractions were becoming more and more intense. At one point I had to pee – and my sweet husband helped me to the toilet – and I sat on the toilet moaning through the contraction. I wonder what was going on through my husbands head. He was probably just as scared as I was.

It was abut 11am when they came in to check on me and the baby’s position. The doctors performed a pelvic exam and I stared at her through the entire process. Searching her face for a glimmer of “Your dilated, let’s push!”… But I didn’t get that. She looked at me, took a sigh, looked back at the resident and said “I feel a hand”. My heart began to break. Our daughter had come down into the birth canal, hand and arm first. Before my husband and I could say anything, the doctor looked at me quite sternly and said, we can’t proceed with a vaginal delivery – we need to take you in for an emergency c-section, right now. I knew all of my efforts to have our daughter the way I planned, wanted and yearned for were over. I think my husband was waving his white flag – he just wanted our daughter out safely. I on the other hand, felt like my body had not worked right, my body had failed me. So, within a few minutes, I was being wheeled through the Trauma entrance of the OR.

The Final Show… The C-Section

So the hauled me from one bed to another, and I remember my legs flopping all over the place, since I had finally had my epidural. However, my epidural had only numbed the left side of my body, so the doctors upped the dosage and tilted the table where the medicine would slowly move to the right side of my body. The doctors put me on oxygen and began to poke me with the scalpel – asking me if I felt anything. I kept telling them I could. They kept upping the dosage of the epidural. Finally, after what seemed like years, they lifted the curtain, called in my husband – and told me – its baby time.

Having your insides pulled and tugged on is the strangest experience. Its not painless, but its not excruciating. The doctors were silent and I kept looking back at my husband, saying “We get to meet our little bird soon!”… The doctor told me that they could see our baby, and she was rolling around causing him to have trouble getting  grip on her to pull her out. Her hand and arm were also down in the birth canal – making it a delicate process. The NICU team was in the room, waiting for her – just in case she needed to be rushed off to surgery. I tried to just breathe as the pulling and tugging became a little more intense.

Finally I felt a “pop” and our daughter was out! Instead of the doctor showing her off over the curtain or hearing a cry. Our baby was whisked away to the incubator. No cries. I looked over to the side, where they had her and I caught a glimpse of a leg. She was limp. No crying. No movement. I screamed “What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she crying?” A NICU nurse replied, “We are trying to help her breathe, hang on mama”.

I burst into tears. My husband burst into tears. I told him to go to her. He walked over and turned back to me and said, with tears streaming down his face, “Shes perfect Kelli, shes beautiful”.

I kept saying “Why isn’t she crying?” I started to flail my arms because of my anxiety and the anesthesiologist  held me down. I started to feel pain on my right side. I started to scream “PAIN, PAIN I FEEL PAIN”.

Finally a baby cried. My husband sobbed. I sobbed between screams. “PAIN, PLEASE GOD STOP, I FEEL PAIN”.

That was the last thing I remember. I guess the epidural didn’t work, or partially started to wear off. So they put me under general anesthesia. Basically, I remember waking up in a recovery room, holding a baby with the help of my husband bracing my arms. My vision was blurring and I had a hard time focusing on her face… But when I finally wasn’t drowsy, and the nurses let me hold my daughter without help for the first time – it was the most beautiful moment.

After all the trouble we went through. She was worth every second.

Born August 2, 2014.. 5lbs 07oz… 18 inches long.

Welcome to the world, my sweetest Amelia Grace.

(More pictures to come!)

Week 1.. Back to running

I’m working on what seems like 12 blog posts at the same time. I thought it would be worthwhile to update readers and keep myself accountable by posting what my first week back in my running shoes felt like.

Instead of saying, I’m going to start on Monday (my start day of the week)… I just put my shoes on, told my husband I couldn’t stand it one more minute, handed him our 27 day old baby, took a deep breath in the Houston humidity and took that first, hard, almost impossible step. Before I get into the nitty gritty of the runs for the week – here are some lovely little stats for you..

I’m leaving it all on the table.

  • Fighting weight (I call my “racing weight”), last checked in 10/2013 (OKC Marathon): 110lbs
  • Pre-Pregnancy weight (during the holidays and post OKC Marathon) 116.8lbs.
  • Last run (due to high risk pregnancy) Feb 3, 2014.
  • Run times (pre-pregnancy): Mile (on a great day): 6:55/mi, (on a normal day) 7:45-8:00/mi.
  • Last race & time before pregnancy: 10K @ 49:21 (Qualified for Houston Corral A)
  • Weight when I gave birth 148lbs. YIKES.
    • Note* I was diagnosed with polyhydramnios, which means I had double the fluid of a normal pregnancy, and double the belly. Doctors estimate that I had about 5lbs worth of extra fluid. (Oh and my daughter weighed 5lbs 7oz at birth)
  • Pregnancy weight gain: 31.2lbs.
  • Weight on my first run postpartum: 128.0lbs.
  • Weight lost since birth (before exercising) 20lbs
  • Goal weight, post partum: 105-110lbs.
  • Goal race, post partum: Houston Half Marathon (Jan 2015), 1:45-1:55.

Okay, now that I’ve told you all my deep and dark secrets… Here is how the first week back was..

Friday’s Run – The very 1st run. (.60/mi)

I could barely stand to sit any longer. My doctor had NOT given me the go ahead to exercise, but my body was almost twitching from lack of any physical activity. Like I said earlier, I handed off our 27 day old daughter, threw my shoes on, stuffed my huge milky boobs into a sports bra that used to fit, found the biggest shirt I could wear to hide my jelly belly – and I walked out the door. I think thats the hardest part. Swallowing my pride, knowing I look like a fat, jelly belly wanna be runner huffing and puffing down the street… I wish my shirt had said “STOP STARING, I JUST HAD A BABY”. It probably didn’t help that the air was so thick with humidity because it had poured down rain, and it is still August in Houston. So anyway, I took a deep breath, did my usual arm swing/stretch – and took my first step. You know what it felt like? Like I was an elephant trying to run with shorts that rode up my crotch and boobs jiggling around that were the size of melons. It wasn’t pretty. I wanted to turn back around and go inside. Into the comfort of my own home, where no one would judge my jelly belly. But I didn’t. I kept going, slowly running. Slowly trying to adjust to the weight I was carrying, trying to determine if my c-section scar was going to burst open, trying to hold my abs (or what used to be abs) towards my spine – to support myself upright..

It was MISERABLE. I ran .60 of a mile and it took me forever. My lungs felt like they were exploding under my chest, they were on fire trying to suck in as much humid, thick air as possible. My legs felt so heavy; I was stomping the ground like I was a member of a marching band. Sweat began to pour out of my face. I kept thinking to myself. I just had a baby – I can do this. I will be stronger than before. I finished my “run”/”trot” at my front door, breathing like a mad woman – almost drooling because I couldn’t close my mouth for one second, nostrils flaring… and I FELT AMAZING.

I missed running so much. It is part of my soul, my being. I knew right before I walked back into the house, that I would have a long road ahead of me – to try and get back where I was..and then some.. But I felt great and was really freaking proud of myself. REALLY PROUD.

Saturday – The 1st REAL mile! (1.00/mi, 11:00)

I woke up, fed the baby, pumped my boobs to “lose some extra weight”, threw on 2 sports bras that are now too small, threw on my old trusty Garmin 610 and headed out the door. Again, a monster cloud of humidity hit me in the face. I breathed it in, knowing that smell of the early morning was something that I had missed so much. The quiet morning, when all the night owls slept in, the birds weren’t chirping and the sky was a brand new blue sky.

Again, I started running and it felt like I was an elephant in a marching band. I could tell my running form was off, maybe my hips were a little “stretched out”, so I tried to lengthen my legs and run more upright. However, my lungs won. They screamed for me to stop. So I stopped at .60 and said, freaking finish a mile Kelli. Do it. So I kept running down my street. Like a mad running lady who is running back and forth to hit a certain distance on her running watch. BEEP BEEP. ONE MILE. HOLY MOTHER OF THE SAINTS. I DID IT. My time? Hahaha! 11:00/mi. Like a gazelle. It was a little disheartening, knowing that 10 months prior I was hauling through my neighborhood at 7:30/mi. I decided I was not going to focus on my times just yet… It was only day 2, and 28 days post c-section. Again, I walked into my house beaming with pride, sweat dripping all over me. I looked at my hubby, who was letting our precious daughter nap on his chest – and I said “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger right? I’ll be stronger than before, because I had a baby. I’ll be strong for her”.. He didn’t say anything, but smiled back at me.

Sunday.. TBD

So when I woke up on Sunday, my legs were a little stiff. Strange to think that one freaking mile would tighten my legs up that way, but I guess after months without running and some lovely bed rest – your body will do that. So instead of running, I decided I would do some at home strength exercises. I’m not going to get back to the runner that I was, with just running.

I opted for my old routine, but it literally kicked my ass.

Wall sits, lunges, kick backs, side leg lifts, squats.

I didn’t do them with the intensity of my old self – because I still have not been cleared by my doctor yet to do any physical activity. So I am taking it easy until I get the “go ahead”.

Monday – Labor Day! (1.01/mi, 10:30)

After a night with a fussy baby, a major poop blow out, a morning baby bath – I strapped on my shoes and headed out the door. Again, I felt really heavy. It felt like I was stomping the ground versus being light on my feet. I tried not to think about they way I looked. My melon milky boobs jiggling all over my chest, my jelly belly bouncing up and down, my thighs high fiving each other.. All these things that bring a woman down – I tried to drown out in the morning sunshine. A few other runners passed me up – something that would have never happened before. My old competitor self tried to kick it into high gear and “show them whos fast”, but I burned out within a few steps. I told myself to get to the end of the street. As I wheezed at the stop sign, I looked down at my watch 10:36 pace. A slight improvement from Saturday. BOOM! CELEBRATE! I decided to head back home, which would make my run a little over a mile. I tried to run upright, kick back my stride and cruise – but my body fought with me. Again, I think the extra weight and maybe my healing c-section area is causing me to slouch a bit.

I finished. 1.01 mile (SAY WHAAAA?!) With a lightening pace of 10:30.

One of my running buddies told me yesterday via Twitter, that Deena Kastor (a famous female distance runner) ran in the 10’s after she gave birth.. SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THERE IS STILL A CHANCE!