Running Through My Pregnancy

by Martha Blackwell

It was along the steep San Ysidro trail, winding up toward Camino Cielo, when I first realized I might be pregnant. I just didn’t have the motivation to push as I had the previous two Sundays. I even stopped to walk on the way down! Three days later I confirmed my pregnancy by racing Night Moves and finishing 15 seconds slower than I had the week prior with, again, the same lack of motivation I’d experienced on the trail. My mind wasn’t allowing my body to make the extra effort. To go, as they say, that extra mile. I didn’t need a pregnancy test to tell me something was wrong, or in this case “right,” with my body. I was pregnant, and my running, despite my strong passion (i.e. obsession) for it, would have to take a back seat to that fact.

I was in the best shape of my life when I became pregnant last July 2001. Exactly how I had wanted it to be. My running times were just shy of my collegiate bests from six years earlier, and I was mentally and physically a much stronger runner. Had I held off one or two more months before, along with my husband, deciding to give pregnancy a go, I’m positive I would have been setting PRs across the board. Following the official “positive” confirmation in the doctor’s office, I had to decide how I was going to approach my first pregnancy in terms of running, because I knew I was going to have to make some modifications to my workouts. I contacted two of my collegiate teammates who had already gone through pregnancy. One (a very talented runner who easily ran sub-17 minute 5Ks in college) had opted to stop running altogether during her pregnancy and has kept her running on the backburner ever since. The other girl had run full-speed ahead, even competing, during the beginning of her first pregnancy, but had a few minor complications that placed her on bed rest for the entire third trimester. She then toned things down a bit during her second pregnancy and was able to continue running right up until the day she went into labor and has since made an impressive comeback by racing nationally in the steeplechase. Both gave me the same piece of advice as my doctor had given me, “Listen to your body. Everyone is different.” I took that tip and ran with it all the way (or almost all the way) through my pregnancy, and believe I couldn’t have done it more perfectly.

Being in, or close to, the best shape of one’s life, is, in my novice opinion, the best way to prepare for pregnancy. Of course, for women, there’s that fine line of health many runners teeter along when striving to become the fittest of the fit. Every woman must remember that to become pregnant she has to be healthy, not just fit. A woman who is in the best shape of her life may not be running her best times or be leaner than ever. What she is though, is strong, both mentally and physically. By being in the best shape, a woman will be able to more easily overcome all of the physical and mental obstacles that accompany pregnancy. She will also be able to make a quicker postpartum rebound. I gained 40 pounds and know that had I entered the “race” (which, by the way, I compare pregnancy’s 40 weeks to a mid-to-hard-effort ultra-marathon and, contrary to what many women had told me, the actual delivery a hard 400-800 meters) much less than “fit,” I wouldn’t have been able to finish as successfully as I did.

The first trimester was definitely the toughest leg of the race due to the physical fatigue and the mental adjustment of not being able to do the intense workouts I had been doing. Around the six-week mark, I started to become so tired that most mornings all I wanted to do was lay in bed. But I made myself get up and get out there. I have always been a morning runner, which definitely, I believe, benefited my success in maintaining my exercise regimen throughout the 40 long weeks by allowing me to get it out of the way before I became absolutely exhausted by mid-to-late afternoon. Come 5 p.m., I was ready to go to bed (though I didn’t of course; I had to take my last opportunities to enjoy my nights before baby came!). Because I had read that the first trimester was the most-crucial in terms of development of the baby (let alone the highest-risk period for losing the fetus altogether), I was extremely conscientious of not overdoing my runs so as to eliminate the two dangers of high heartbeat or high body temperature. My pre-pregnancy weeks of 50-plus miles were reduced to between 30-40 miles, with six miles as my longest run. Running in the mornings also allowed me to run in the cool morning fog, helping to maintain the low body temperature. I sustained this regimen of about 35 miles each week, in addition to attending pre-natal yoga once or twice each week, up until the fifth month, which was when the weight really started to pour on.

My body is naturally one that doesn’t gain weight too easily in the un-pregnant state. Foolishly (I can now use that adjective, as I know I would have gained the weight just fine and maybe wouldn’t have gained quite so much), I had decided to help it out by eating limitless amounts of sweets, including one package of Pop Tarts each night immediately before bed. By the fifth month of my pregnancy, I had gained 25 pounds, which was more than enough to make a big difference in my running. I had slowed down my pace of seven-minute miles by about one minute or more, and had started running more on the treadmill, where the environment was controlled and a bathroom easily accessible (even “bushing it” becomes more challenging with 25 extra pounds pulling you forward!). At week 20, (during which time we were vacationing in Lake Placid, NY where the average temperature was 15 degrees) I decided to start reducing my mileage by five miles every two weeks. My goal was to run up until 30 weeks, so I figured that I would be running ten miles (in two or three runs) per week by the time my goal week rolled around. On the days I didn’t run, I went hiking or speed walking (and snow shoeing in NY) with my dog for an hour or two, or just took it easy with a shorter walk or swim in the pool. As week 30 closed in, and the third trimester was on its way, I was still running about 15 miles in three runs each week and hiking/walking the other four days. I’d invested in a great pair of pregnancy running shorts that held my belly (and boy did I have one; my waistline expanded 16 inches by the end!) in place as I bounced up and down four or five miles at a time.

For the final ten weeks of my pregnancy, because I’d already surpassed my goal of running up until week 30, I basically told myself I’d be happy to run one or two days each week until I felt I just couldn’t do it any longer. That day came at week 37. I was on the treadmill cruising along at my then-steady nine-minute-plus-mile pace, when I absolutely couldn’t go another step. I had, for about two miles or so, kept stopping with a side cramp every 200 meters, and finally had to call it quits. Of course, I tried again the next day just to make sure it hadn’t been something I’d consumed, and was able to make it a measly 1.5 miles before the cramps set in again. I guess, in retrospect, I could have settled for running a mile or two each day as many runners do, but I  felt it wasn’t worth it, that my body was telling me I needed to stop, and that I had promised to listen to it. Nope, that was it. My body was throwing in the towel. So I became a regular hiker on the trails of Montecito. I hiked almost every day for one or two hours up until D-day (April 1, 2002). On that day, I went out for my six-mile loop, checked in with my doctor for an ultrasound, and was then on my way to the hospital to be induced. It seems the only negative to all of my exercise was that it kept my body in such tip-top shape that I wasn’t responding (or really noticing for that matter) to the major contractions my doctor estimated I’d been having for about one week. On April 2, following a tough 800 meters (I’d say 24 hours of labor equals an 800), I gave birth to a beautiful 7-pound-10-ounce girl. Tatym, my daughter, is a healthy, happy and active girl who is delighted to explore her world. I accredit much of her well being to my running and consistent exercising throughout pregnancy. All in all, I only took three days off, due to travel, from any sort of exercise the entire 40 weeks.

I returned to walking three days (starting with a very leisurely one-mile stroll) following my delivery and was back running twelve days later. I ran my first 5K (Night Moves) one month after giving birth in 20:18, more than two minutes slower than I had run it one year prior, but not bad. During these first few months as a new mother, I’ve realized that making a comeback in running requires consistent time and energy, of which I’ve yet to run across, to train. I know, however, that I’m definitely physically and mentally superior to where I was before enduring my 40-week race. Carrying around 40 extra pounds (which, by the way, I’d lost, save the six or seven necessary for nursing, by Tatym’s four-month birthday) with squished internal organs, including the lungs, over the course of both the ultra-marathon and the 800-meter races, made my body and mind work that much harder to complete each and every mile logged. I can once again say I’m in the best shape of my life, and I know that the future can only get faster.