Physical Training

At one point in time I was a very fit young woman. I could do more push-ups than any boy in my high school and could out last anyone on a run. I was proud of my body and how well it worked for me.

While my husband was in the Marine Corps I took up running again. The local recruiter's office used the running trail by our home and I cheerfully sailed past that "USMC 1.5 MILES" written in red across the pavement. I liked being fit and healthy.

Then I got pregnant.

Some women gain a lot of weight. I lost it all.

Prior to getting pregnant I was a healthy 110 lbs. Six weeks post partum I dropped to a frightening 96 and kept going. I happily sat around on my butt doing nothing but eating and was able to maintain a 95 lbs average. When I decided to get back into shape and started exercising, however, the scale warned me off by giving me numbers like 92.0.

Off to the doctor I went and he's assured me that the best thing for me is exercise combined with loads and loads for protein and calories. He assures me that not only will I put on muscle weight but I'll have more energy and be more healthy. He promises nothing but agony in the beginning, however.

Now I'm back to PTing and scarfing down Ensure Plus protein shakes and loading up on eggs, cheese and milk.

I must say I'm pathetically ashamed of myself that I can only do thirty-three seconds on the flexed-arm hang. I am struggling to do just five push-ups whereas I once would push out twenty-nine without breaking a sweat. I can't even do a single pull up from dead hang and the 1/2 mile that I ran tonight left me gasping for air. Oh for the days when I could mile after mile with ease.

I am not discouraged. Even if I weren't set on joining the Marines this would still be good for me. Lord knows we Americans could all use a little more physical activity.

It's also a time for me to be alone and think.

In the last year I've been flanked by either my husband or my son or both and while I love them dearly sometimes I feel I need a little me-maintenance time; a few minutes to have some space and breathe.

I'll admit that these last few days have seen me distancing myself from both my husband and my son. I am focused and distracted, almost obsessed and absent-minded from my wifely and motherly duties.

I have felt frustrated by the routine of dishes, diapers, detergent and the dogma of dutiful dependent.

Tomorrow I will go and run and come back to kiss my husband good morning and snuggle my son. Tomorrow it will be back to wife and mother with a goal because there are only so many months, weeks, days, hours left until I leave my family to fulfill my dream. It would be a tragedy, irresponsible and down-right wrong if I neglected them in the pursuit of my goals when I believe I am doing this for them as well.