If I had known last Sunday was going to be my last run, for possibly a long time, I would have gone further. I would have savored the fresh air, enjoyed the scenery despite running down a sidewalk near a business park, and relished the heaviness of my breath and tiredness of my legs. Instead, I took it all for granted, assuming I would wake up the next morning and do the same thing again.
A late trip to the ER that evening changed everything, as I suddenly became a high risk pregnancy with complications arising early in my second trimester.
I have been lucky. My first two pregnancies and childbirths were free from complications. I won’t say easy, because those endless months of morning/afternoon/evening sickness left me never wanting to go through it again, and it wouldn’t be fair to say twenty hours of intense labor was a walk in the park. But being pregnant did not prevent me from running. I ran up until the day I delivered with both of my girls, and resumed running again two weeks after each birth. I naturally assumed the third would be the same. Read more