Sunday, December 30, 2012


It's a really pretty morning: 37 degrees, low clouds, tiny breeze that cuts through you but it's only intermittent. The dog and I had our morning walk through the neighborhood and between moments of admiring the morning I thought about my impending trail run.

I started running a year ago in January, using the Couch to 5k iPhone app. (I think it's actually called something else but the effect is the same - it makes a 3-mile-runner out of a non-runner.) I'd used the program before there were smart phones, using a stopwatch and having to look down at it every five seconds. I made it to a couple of 5k races and lost interest until two years ago when C started running. Actually, at the beginning of 2011 when he started, I was still not interested; it wasn't until July or August when he'd lost 50 pounds that I started paying attention. I also wanted in on this part of his life that was doing him so much good and that he was enjoying so much.

So in January C was coming off of a back injury where he'd had to take some running time off, and we both did C25K together. It was a rough few weeks, mostly in my head, but I made it. At some point, we stopped running together; we run at different paces and lengths and when he'd speed up a hill I couldn't keep up. I felt a lot better about myself when I ran alone; the only person I could compare myself to was me.

Then the end of the year loomed, and I looked back at my year of running and was super disappointed. I hadn't lost any weight at all; in fact I had probably gained a little bit. I was never able to get above 4 miles, I never improved my pace, and there were several weeks that I didn't run at all. Ah, there was the rub. I had barely run 150 miles in an entire year and I used these short runs as an excuse to eat whatever I wanted. Even if I hadn't run at all that week.

So there I sat, on the couch, pouting; and then C laced up his running shoes for a quick run and left the house. So I laced mine up too, grabbed the dog, and followed C out. Except I went across the highway and into the woods.

The local university has a pretty extensive research forest. It includes an arboretum, a forestry area, intensive management, and miles and miles of trails. One trail in particular was recommended to me by a coworker months ago, and suddenly I had the urge to try it. I needed a change of scenery. So I did it.

I took about fifteen little running steps before the incline was too steep for me to bounce anymore, and then I hiked. The incline didn't bother the dog, who bounced everywhere, and I followed him up. Once the terrain evened out, I ran. And almost the entire second half was downhill, which felt really nice. I ran/hiked just under two and a half miles and loved it. I was almost totally alone, I could walk when I needed to, and it was actually kind of fun.

I write about this like it was ancient history, but it was only a few days ago. Today will be my third trail run. I kind of feel like those people I hate on Amazon or iTunes, rating products five stars when I just received it five minutes before, but I really am excited for this year and the potential for a big change in my health. It's not bad, going from disappointment of the past to excitement for the future in thirty minutes. All I needed was a change of scenery.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

Chapter Two

I had a good conversation tonight with a friend who I met online when we were both engaged and planning on weddings a month apart. When she went through her infertility journey, I still had no idea we would end up with so much in common, but it has been so good to have her around to talk to when I feel like I'm starting to bother people with "oh, that again."

Tonight's conversation started when I read Mel's IComLeavWe post. I've thought a lot about starting to get back into the world of IF after trying to be relatively scarce for a year, and the post added fuel to the fire. I don't have a lot of infertility bloggers on my reading list, and the ones that I do have have mostly become parents and slowed way down on their posting, so I am a little behind. But being a part of ICLW means I'd have to post more, which led to my chat with E.

What do people want to read when they search for infertility blogs? Do they only want the meaty bits? Do they only want to know how the retrieval went, or how much the last injection hurt? Or do they want to read all the pieces in between - after the initial grief and shock evens out into life; the way that someone fits such a world-changing situation into the rest of their world? I imagine that a post about what one had for breakfast that doesn't speak about how it ties into their fertility diet is not a bad thing.

The infertility blogs that I read, the ones where the bloggers are becoming parents, write about almost the same thing. "Do I delete my blog now that I am moving into a new stage of my life? Should I just rename it? What will happen to my readers?" I was comparing myself to them, but really, our journeys don't end with a failed cycle any more than they end with a baby. This blog is for me. So I can look back at what happened when I was in my early thirties and remember. So that I can type out my frustrations or my happinesses. And I suppose this blog is also for readers. So the people I know in real life can see how I'm doing. So that people who are going through the same things I went through last year or the same things I'm going through now can feel like they're not alone.

So here's the deal. I will try to make this more a part of my life again. I will join IComLeavWe. I will seek out new blogs to read and friends to connect with. I won't just write a post when I have news about an appointment or just when it has something to do with infertility. Just know that every step I take comes from that place, and the mere fact that it's my life means that it's a part of my infertility story. Chapter 2: My Life Between Treatments.