Late January, I joined the local YMCA in an attempt to
get out of the house and stop being the recluse I secretly am get healthier and happier. I then also pledged something: I will go to a fitness class of some kind every day in February. Every. Day. Some days will be yoga (break days) and others the more intense ones such as “athletic conditioning”, etc. Finding out about the baby only made me double down on the pledge thinking of the energy levels, sickness, and you know, health of the body this baby is trying to live off for the next 9 months.
I made it 9 days.
Yesterday I was so tired, so nauseated, and so “but the Olympics are on” that I just…couldn’t do it. I ate ice cream.
And you want to know what else? I don’t even feel bad a little bit.
There. I said it. Because while goals and expectations are great to shoot for, if you don’t make it there’s always tomorrow. And so that’s what I did. Instead of throwing in the towel for February, I picked myself up again and just went back into it. If I eat ice cream and watch people be athletic instead of go be athletic myself for a day, tomorrow will still come and the gym will still be there. And, gasp, the gym was totally still there. And class was just as fun as it was before I broke the February Fitness Challenge.
The jury is still out on if this whole endeavor is actually letting me have more energy or not. For those who have not been pregnant before or for those who might be male: imagine staying up until 3AM for a week straight and then being expected to get up at 6AM and trudge through your entire day and not be able to tell anyone why you’re tired and that you’re not lazy you’re just going to curl up under your desk and sleep for 3 hours. That is how tired you feel no matter how many damn hours of sleep you get a night. I have been told energy returns at the second trimester and for everyone’s sake I hope it’s true. There was one night where the thought of chopping up some garlic for a recipe I was making was so devastatingly surreal in how much energy that would take I cried. And, yes, that’s also the hormones talking, but seriously. It was like two cloves of garlic. C’mon now.
February, you’re still going to be my “establish fitness no matter what” month, but you’ve also turned into, “hey cut yourself a little slack, too” month.
With some ice cream.