She's going the distance. . .

So I had my six-week check-up with the midwife last Friday and was cleared to do "whatever I want". I could write a whole post about the responses of childless vs. child-having friends to what "six weeks after the baby is born" means (ahem, getting jiggy again), but I'll spare you that.
Instead, I'll subject you to the slow-motion, Napoleon Dynamite-esque clumsiness of my running.
Yup. I finally went running again.
After my all-clear from the midwife, I made all my plans to seduce my husband (wait, strike that) I mean, get my run on for Saturday morning. I gathered up all my gear--shoes, sports bra, shorts that would actually accommodate my larger bahonkus--and stashed them in a good grab-and-go spot in case the munchkin slept in a little Saturday.
The planets were aligned and I managed to swaddle him up and stuff him next to my DH so the boys could snooze and I could lose (weight, that is. . .)
I must include this side note about proper support. Now that I've got some major ta-tas, the whole double sports-bra thing really rocks my socks. It was all I could do not to bust out the duct tape to keep the ladies under control. I'm sure this new fascination will pass, but it's a whole new world for my formerly barely a "B"-cup self. . .
But back to the running. ..
So at butt-crack AM on Saturday, you might have seen me leaving my house, synchronizing my watch, and cranking up the IPod. It was my first outing without the munchkin and it was really great. Not that I long for time away from the Z-Man, but this was just a nice treat.
My back was straighter, my head was higher. I started flying down the street as fast as my legs would carry me.* I passed Very Unfriendly Man with the Beautiful Husky and once again said "hello, what a beautiful dog you have!!!" with no response. Seriously, he ignores me every time. One day I think I may lose it with this guy and go all postal or something. He is SO RUDE!
Anyway. . .after about two minutes of "sprinting" around the block, I realized I needed to slow my roll if I would make my twenty minute goal for the morning. So I kicked it down a notch to cruise the neighborhood. I felt like such hot stuff--I wanted to yell: "I just had a baby and here I am running and sweating it all off. Yee-haw" but I just cranked up the IPod a little more.
Side note: My DH read an article about people listening to their IPods so loudly that it disturbed other people (passengers on planes, trains, etc.). He was all like "How loud do you have to be listening to your IPod for someone else to hear it?"
Honey, stand next to me the next time I go running and you'll see how loud you have to listen to the IPod for it to bother other people.
What? Did you say something? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. . .
So I cranked up my fave songs on my workout playlist and found my groove: Cake's "The Distance", "American Woman", "Smells Like Teen Spirit", Incubus' "Wish You Were Here" a little Fiona Apple because she is skinny (my goal) and she's a bad grrl (good for seducing husband).
If you are getting a mental image of my running right about now, you are probably conjuring up something along the lines of Chariots of Fire. Think more "Gorillas in the Mist". My running stride is about as graceful as a gorillas. And not one of those majestic silverback beasties--I'm more like the gimpy ape cousin with the sketchy family history and one leg shorter than the other. Trust me, it's not pretty.
But at least I was getting out there. And running makes me happy, ultimately. Working out really makes me feel better. All the endorphins or whatever. It really works. I am a real grouch when I am not working out. I know I've spent way too much time thinking about my weight and calories and fitting back into my pre-pregnancy clothes but working out makes me happy. It's a hobby, even if I never look/have never looked like I work out. I've never had one of those fat-free bodies--I just fit into my clothes nicely.
So I made my 20 minute goal and then some. I'm not too much slower than I was before the baby, but my plan is to get faster (at least a little bit). Right now the triple-digit temps aren't helping (although last night I did slog out 15 minutes) but it's just a great "me" thing to do.
Like blogging.
I need to make sure I take time for both.
Anyway. . . I feel great to be hitting the pavement again. Of course, I am incredibly sore and have aches and pains in new places (partially because I am heavier and partially just because I haven't run in a year and a half) but it's all a good feeling. And my fat jeans are not so brutally tight this morning, so that's a reward in itself.
Well, the munchkin is wrapping up his morning nap, so I need to finish. He's starting to smile a lot more, and I've posted pics at our Shutterfly site if you want to check them out. He's just the cutest kid you've ever seen, seriously.

* This is not fast. I have never been a fast runner. For instance, if I was running past your house, you would have time to go find your camera in the other room, change its batteries, putter with it to review the last ten pictures you took, and then you could snap a pic of me trotting by. I swear, I am the world's slowest runner.