Exercise and the Working Mother

(Why does that title remind me so much of “Sex and the Single Woman?”)

A little background here, for those of you new to the blog.  I started exercising when I was 19 years old in the 80’s.  I even became an aerobics instructor for about 5 years.  After that I started running just for fun 3 to 5 times a week.  I added on weights, swimming and yoga and finished graduate school.  I started marathon training and ran marathons and the sort for about 4 years. 

Then, I got pregnant.

As you may recall, I planned on running during the whole pregnancy, but I began to have problems with my hooha.  Actually, the joint above my hooha.  It wasn’t serious, but it was painful enough that I couldn’t run for the rest of my pregnancy.  I walked instead.  In fact, I walked with attitude so that I actually burned some calories. 

I’m recounting all this to let you know that exercise has been a part of my life for around 20 years.  I work out.  It’s part of who I am.  When I think of myself in the past, present and future, I think of myself being athletic.   “What’s the big deal?” I thought to myself when others said they didn’t have time to work out. “You just make time and you do it!”

So imagine my surprise after having a child, having my body back to myself (sort of) and I still can’t figure out when I’m supposed to work out.  To every mother out there that I looked at quizzically wondering why she didn’t work out:  I AM SORRY!  Forgive my doltishness as I forgive the doltishness of the unchilded around me. 

I don’t want to work out in the morning because the little guy likes a boob when he wakes up.  (Plus with a shower and my hair issues, we’re talking about a really long morning toilette)  I don’t want to go at lunch at work because, well, that’s when I’m supposed to be working.  I don’t want to go after work because I want to pick my little guy up from daycare and smooch all over his head.  Besides, there’s this more than a small amount of guilt I feel by not getting him out of daycare as soon as I can in the afternoon.  I had no idea that exercising as a working mother with young children would be so hard. 

But here’s the rub.  Dave and I are “of a certain age.”  When I am 60, I still want to be able enough to hike with our guy around the mountain trails.  At 80, I want to be active with our grandchildren. 

So I have made a decision.  I can imagine Conor at 20 years old tell us “Ya know, I would rather you picked me up 30 minutes later from daycare to go exercise because now I can have you here with me on this hike over a mountain.  It is and was OK for you to take care of yourself then so I can have you now.” 

So I am working out a little bit after work.  I will be completely honest with you:  I am only working out 30 minutes.  BC (before Conor, which by the way sounds much better than BM, before monkey), a 30 minute work out was so short, that I thought it was a waste of time.  Now, that is all the time I have.  I’d love to get up to a 45 minute workout, and maybe when the semester is not so frantic, I will.  But all I currently have is 30 minutes for my workout.  So that’s what I’m taking. 

I hope that when he is older, he’s not permanently scarred from being in daycare 30 minutes longer than he has to.  And that he thinks his mom is in good shape for an old hag. 

7:47:06 AM