I used to be a wimp. Such a pathetic wimp, in fact, that I was convinced I would have to adopt, because my "pain threshold" was too low to actually push a human being out of me. I was ridiculously picky about my food because I was scared to try new things. And I told anyone who would listen that I am not a "natural athlete" because my body was not built for sports. Ha! I do not think 17-year-old me would be able to pick 31-year-old me out in a line-up. The girl who, in high school, came in LAST every time our gym class ran the mile now comfortably runs a mile in about 9 minutes. Over and over again. On a regular basis. Did my physical and mental "pain threshold" magically get higher? Or is my endurance a result of maturity? I don't think so, because I know plenty of scared adults who still believe they "can't" do lots of totally attainable things. I believe that my new-found ability to push my body farther than I ever imagined is the result of my experiences giving birth to my three girls (which were, of course, affected by my education and practice as a childbirth educator). To be precise: My perception of my own physical and mental capabilities and limits did a full 180 when I delivered my last two daughters completely intervention-free (Sydney, forgive me).
Unmedicated childbirth changed me. Yes, it was the event that ultimately made me a parent, and that is the most astonishing life change a person can undergo. Another, less obvious, transformation happened, though, when I completed my first unmedicated birth-- the moment Ivy was born, a new, powerful, confident Ruth was born with her. Ivy turned five last December, but I still have not recovered from the exhilaration I felt the moment she was born. That sensation of invincibility was reignited in me when I delivered Isadora, and I am still basking in the afterglow of her birth more than 21 months later. The sheer AWESOMENESS I felt after pushing (pardon the pun) my body so far beyond the impassable limits I had imagined has never left me. Although I wondered what in the world I was doing to myself many, many times during my birth experiences, it is the pain that I experienced then that I now seek to recreate, in an effort to somehow experience, as many times as possible, the feeling of empowerment that unmedicated childbirth gave to me.
I started running about four years ago in an effort to lose my baby weight. My first time on the treadmill, I ran a whopping one-tenth of a mile before my lungs were burning and I had to walk the rest of the way. Against my better judgment, and with a lot of Bryce's encouragement, I kept going back and trying again. My strategy was simple: JUST KEEP RUNNING, one-tenth of a mile at a time. I achieved my goal of running a whole mile after several months of trying. It took me about 12 minutes, and I was totally exhausted, and thought I might pass out, but still, so unbelievably proud of myself. The mixture of feelings was familiar to me-- I was feeling surprised that I actually achieved a goal I thought impossible, so relieved it was over, yet strangely excited to try it again. Something clicked, and I realized I COULD experience empowerment similar to when I gave birth. I just had to learn to push my mind and body beyond comprehension on a daily basis. So that is what I do now. I remind myself after I have run a couple of miles and I want desperately to give up that the reward is well worth the pain, turn my music up, and JUST KEEP RUNNING. My longest run to-date is 7 miles, and this June, I plan to complete my first half-marathon. I find my new confidence leaks into all areas of my life. The ratio of "I can't" to "I can" has shifted, and my tolerance for risk has increased dramatically.
I would love to give birth many, many more times in my life. But since birth results in babies and babies turn into children, I am not going to experience birth again. So instead, I run. And run, and run, and run. I run when I am sick, when I have gotten only four hours of interrupted sleep, and when I SHOULD be doing something else. I run for the endorphine boost that improves my mood, for the general health benefits, to have more in common with Bryce, and for the alone time. Mostly, I run as an attempt to recapture the magnificent feeling of satisfaction that entering the frontier of complete mental and physical exhaustion brings. NOTHING will ever match the sensations I experienced after my births, but running is as close as I can get (so far). I look forward to finding new experiences as I continue my quest. "No pain, no gain", in my case, could not be more true.
