My comeback begins today. It may be the slowest comeback in cycling history and, considering I’m coming ‘back’ to nothing more than a mediocre recreation cyclist, it’s all the more unimpressive. But it’s my comeback and it’s starting today...and that’s something.
I’ve ridden my bike a total of 8 times in the past 2 years and I have plenty of bulgy, bumpy, flabby, jiggly places on my body to prove it. Cellulite on your shins? Really? Who knew you could get that?! I’ve been pretty athletic and fit for most of my life, going through the normal in and out of shape seasons that all athletes do, but never been down such a pathetically weak path before. And I can’t blame it on a lack of gear, or money to buy gear, or an inability to pay for training or, or, or...
And this is, quite possibly, where people chime in and say be kind to yourself. Love your body the way it is, no matter what. No way. I’m going to work hard to get my body the way I want it, not just sit there and ‘love’ myself.
But that rant may very well be saved for another day.
Excuses never get anyone to the places they want to be (and I have a whole blog about that, too, but it is still working it’s way out of my brain). I have a few, that’s for sure, and they’ve been frustratingly nagging at me, and paining me for 2 years. But, no matter, I still haven’t been on my bike, and that’s what we’re talking about here.
I was more fit during my pregnancy than I probably ever have been. For the entire 38 weeks I swam laps 3 times a week, did group exercise twice a week, and hiked or ran at least once a week (if not more). But something happened when that little babe was born. And I’m not sure I can even put a title on it and it’s so multilayered I wouldn’t do it justice to even try to. But let me just say this: postpartum is no joke. There's no telling who it will affect or to what degree and there is no 'get out of jail free' card. I have never in my life been more moody, more unmotivated, more depressed; lacking every sort of mental clarity, drive, stability that I had before birthing that little bundle. And it has played itself out in every aspect of my life, every relationship, every experience, every morning I wake up only to repeat what was done the day before.
I don’t know where it ends and I don’t know where something new begins. I don’t know when the downgrade flattens out and starts to climb again. I don’t know how much darker it has to get before I see tiny rays of light.
But what I can say is that I’m going to ride my bike. And hopefully I can make some sense of all that in the saddle (no matter how repulsive the view is from the cyclist behind me).