5 weeks postpartum, as yesterday, and today I attended my third workout class since having H. I am living proof that what the natural birth advocates say: the recovery of a med-free birth is so much easier than other types. I also was fairly active throughout my pregnancy.
This is not to say I’m a total badass. I can barely do a pushup anymore. Doing crunches feels like my core is jelly and after 20 minutes of cardio I’m seriously wondering if the class I’m in is tougher, physically, than giving birth.
Anyway. Today’s class was a step-and-weightlifting class. Step always makes me feel like I’m in an 80’s era, and most of the women in the room were my age in the 80’s. But something about step appeals to me. It’s challenging, and I feel like I’ve accomplished something when I get the routine down. It’s far enough from “dance” to feel like I can handle the choreography and I sweat.
These group classes bring me back to my Jr. High/ High School organized team sports. I played a sport every season- volleyball in the fall, basketball in the winter, and track and softball in the spring. (I must add I wasn’t a talented jock or anything. I just went to a small school and everyone played every sport). While I enjoyed the sports, I can honestly look back and say my favorite part of every practice was the conditioning part. I liked running lines against my teammates at the end of basketball, I liked the circuit training we did during volleyball.
I discovered my first organized step class in college- and for a few years I became obsessed with following the best step instructors around the local gyms at my college city and trying to get a friend to join me. (most of my friends aren’t big into step) For whatever reason, step class has become a thing I do just for me, only with me, I just share the experience with a group of strangers.
It feels SO right to recapture this passion of mine. Having a baby, being pregnant, your body isn’t yours anymore. I haven’t been to an organized group class at the gym since I found out I was pregnant with H. 10 months is a LONG time to give something up you love. It’s also discouraging to feel how out of shape I am (compared to how I was). I’m wearing my husbands workout shirts because my belly is so floppy. But – this is just the beginning. I’m starting the habit back up, and hopefully I can wear my tight tank tops with pride in a few months. My mood is already elevated from the general fact I can do classes again.
In the words of Missy Elliot – (which were inspired by her workout regime) “is it worth it/ let me work it/ put my thing down flip and and reverse it”.