'I biked to the hospital the day my daughter was born'
At two in the morning on October 7, 2010, I woke with a stabbing pain in my lower abdomen. It lasted about a minute. I got up to walk around and about 30 minutes later I experienced a similar pain. The day was finally here. I was having contractions; our baby was ready to meet us.
When my husband, Paul, woke he quickly went to the garage to prepare our bikes for the ride to the hospital. That's right. I biked to the hospital on the day my daughter was born. At the time, though I didn't know it, I was 8 centimeters dilated. Biking to my delivery had been a goal of mine since my first weeks of pregnancy and I didn't think it was a big deal until one of the doctors told me later I had become legendary at the hospital. That's right, legendary.
Since my daughter was born and word of my delivery day bike ride has spread, I have had many people ask me advice for staying active and fit during pregnancy. While I would never hold myself up as a fitness paragon, especially in relation to the readers of this magazine, it did get me thinking about how I would coach someone.
The answer simple for an athlete: Approach pregnancy like the training for a long distance event with some extra bonuses.
I biked to my first doctor's appointment. It was a warm, sunny day in March and I was exhilarated by the spring air and the baby growing inside me. That day I set a goal of biking to every appointment, and I told my doctor my intentions. Then I told my husband and lots of friends. Most people thought I was joking, but my doctor asked me at every appointment if I had biked and my husband outfitted the bikes to carry our bags to the hospital.
One day it occurred to us that I might go into labor in the middle of the night. The next morning Paul ordered a variety of lights for the bikes so we would be safe. Creating the expectation that I would be biking throughout my pregnancy made it easier for me to stay physically active. I didn't want to let myself down or admit to everyone that I hadn't met my goal.
My pregnancy was deemed high risk for a variety of reasons. Lots of people counseled me to avoid all physical activity for the length of the pregnancy. I panicked at the thought because I believed that my physical and mental fitness would directly impact the baby. I talked the situation over with my doctor who is an athlete herself. She understood the need for athletic people to maintain some sort of fitness during pregnancy. She had continued to run while expecting her own daughters, she said.
She did ban me from high intensity workouts, but other than that told me to pay attention to my own internal cues. If I felt exhausted, I should stop. If I felt like I was straining, I should slow down. We had a lot of conversations about my activity level during my baby's gestation and she was a great ally in figuring out what was best for the baby and for me.
My husband is a faster and fitter athlete than I will ever be. We love working out together, but in the past the discrepancies in our skill and fitness levels have led to some tense moments on the trails.
Not so during my pregnancy. Without my having to say a word, he slowed down and scaled back his goals for the year. He skied at my pace, rode the tandem with me when he would rather have been on a group ride, and walked with me when running would have been more efficient. He was a true and supportive coach and partner. Not surprisingly, he is an amazing dad.
I did leave him in my wake whenever we swam. My humility has its limits.
Many of my friends are avid athletes. I dropped out of group rides because I didn't want anyone to give up their training pace for me. Instead, I asked my friends to add one level of speed reducer so we could roller ski together. On the cross-country ski trails, I would do a few warm up kilometers on the flats with them and then drop back and enjoy the quiet when the big hills loomed. We would reconnect back at the lodge for hot chocolate and the camaraderie of the ride home.
I put out the word that I would walk with anyone, anytime. And I ended up reconnecting with a few old friends on leisurely paced walks.
In my opinion, swimming is the ultimate sport for a pregnant woman. It is low impact and the water keeps your core temperature down. I swam early and often. I floated; I kicked; I watched the clouds and the fish go by. I felt weightless and my growing belly didn't burden me a bit.
I am not a runner. That is not to say I don't run. In fact, I run all the time. It is the simplest way to get a workout in when I am away from home. I have gone on runs all over the world, and running has enabled me to maintain consistency in working out like no other sport.
Still I am not a natural runner. Even on my best days running is a slog. On my worst days, it is grueling punishment that I force upon myself. I have truly enjoyed only a handful of runs and they were all in spectacular locations like the jungles of Costa Rica or atop the Great Wall of China. I think the distraction of location kept me from noticing how miserable I truly was.
I played the pregnancy card as my excuse to stop running. I skied, swam, biked, walked, rowed and kayaked. I'm certain running could have fit into the mix. But he difference is, I love all the aforementioned sports and I tolerate running as a means to an end. The minute I saw the plus sign on the early pregnancy test stick, I stopped running. It still makes me smile to think of my reprieve.
In everyday training, I can't always drop what I dislike, but I will allow myself more flexibility in the future.
Without high intensity workouts or competition to worry about, I took time to look around. I finally had time to smell the pine forest and notice the squirrels skittering through the trees. My enjoyment of all workouts increased and I was inspired to keep going.
High intensity was out, but skills training was in. I found a coach and worked on my skate skiing technique. Believe me I needed it. I gained confidence and for the first time I found I could control my pace and, consequently, my heart rate.
My newly acquired skills enabled me to ski longer with less effort which will help me in seasons to come.
At some point during the pregnancy I had to give up different pursuits. Kayaking was over when I could no longer fit comfortably in the cockpit. Roller skiing reached its terminus when my balance issues made it too precarious to continue. Cruiser bike rides replaced road riding when the spandex of my bike shorts finally said uncle. With each activity I had to give up, I tried to substitute something new and interesting. Walking, rowing, hiking with poles and cruiser bike riding kept the last weeks of my pregnancy stimulating.
Enough said.
A healthy baby was my obvious objective and motivation; enough to keep me working out. But I also wanted to be in the best possible shape to keep up with my baby and provide a positive role model when she did arrive.
On the day my daughter was born, I stayed at home until my contractions were about three minutes apart and increasing in intensity. When it was time to go to the hospital, the last thing I wanted to do was get on a bike. But my husband had the bikes ready, my doctor was expecting to see my bike in the lot, and my own internal voice was telling me I couldn't give up now.
I somewhat reluctantly got on the bike and, to my surprise, enjoyed every minute of the ride, even when I was having a contraction. Despite all the dire warnings that I would crash my bike when the pain hit, I found that I could power through it. In fact, the contractions on the bike were the easiest to bear because I was distracted and doing something I love.
My reward for all the work awaited 12 hours later when my daughter was born and I held her for the first time. Oh, and that comment from the doctor about being legendary. That was cool, too. Now I just need to figure out how a smiley, squirming, squawking baby girl can be a training aid.
When my husband, Paul, woke he quickly went to the garage to prepare our bikes for the ride to the hospital. That's right. I biked to the hospital on the day my daughter was born. At the time, though I didn't know it, I was 8 centimeters dilated. Biking to my delivery had been a goal of mine since my first weeks of pregnancy and I didn't think it was a big deal until one of the doctors told me later I had become legendary at the hospital. That's right, legendary.
Since my daughter was born and word of my delivery day bike ride has spread, I have had many people ask me advice for staying active and fit during pregnancy. While I would never hold myself up as a fitness paragon, especially in relation to the readers of this magazine, it did get me thinking about how I would coach someone.
The answer simple for an athlete: Approach pregnancy like the training for a long distance event with some extra bonuses.
I biked to my first doctor's appointment. It was a warm, sunny day in March and I was exhilarated by the spring air and the baby growing inside me. That day I set a goal of biking to every appointment, and I told my doctor my intentions. Then I told my husband and lots of friends. Most people thought I was joking, but my doctor asked me at every appointment if I had biked and my husband outfitted the bikes to carry our bags to the hospital.
One day it occurred to us that I might go into labor in the middle of the night. The next morning Paul ordered a variety of lights for the bikes so we would be safe. Creating the expectation that I would be biking throughout my pregnancy made it easier for me to stay physically active. I didn't want to let myself down or admit to everyone that I hadn't met my goal.
My pregnancy was deemed high risk for a variety of reasons. Lots of people counseled me to avoid all physical activity for the length of the pregnancy. I panicked at the thought because I believed that my physical and mental fitness would directly impact the baby. I talked the situation over with my doctor who is an athlete herself. She understood the need for athletic people to maintain some sort of fitness during pregnancy. She had continued to run while expecting her own daughters, she said.
She did ban me from high intensity workouts, but other than that told me to pay attention to my own internal cues. If I felt exhausted, I should stop. If I felt like I was straining, I should slow down. We had a lot of conversations about my activity level during my baby's gestation and she was a great ally in figuring out what was best for the baby and for me.
My husband is a faster and fitter athlete than I will ever be. We love working out together, but in the past the discrepancies in our skill and fitness levels have led to some tense moments on the trails.
Not so during my pregnancy. Without my having to say a word, he slowed down and scaled back his goals for the year. He skied at my pace, rode the tandem with me when he would rather have been on a group ride, and walked with me when running would have been more efficient. He was a true and supportive coach and partner. Not surprisingly, he is an amazing dad.
I did leave him in my wake whenever we swam. My humility has its limits.
Many of my friends are avid athletes. I dropped out of group rides because I didn't want anyone to give up their training pace for me. Instead, I asked my friends to add one level of speed reducer so we could roller ski together. On the cross-country ski trails, I would do a few warm up kilometers on the flats with them and then drop back and enjoy the quiet when the big hills loomed. We would reconnect back at the lodge for hot chocolate and the camaraderie of the ride home.
I put out the word that I would walk with anyone, anytime. And I ended up reconnecting with a few old friends on leisurely paced walks.
In my opinion, swimming is the ultimate sport for a pregnant woman. It is low impact and the water keeps your core temperature down. I swam early and often. I floated; I kicked; I watched the clouds and the fish go by. I felt weightless and my growing belly didn't burden me a bit.
I am not a runner. That is not to say I don't run. In fact, I run all the time. It is the simplest way to get a workout in when I am away from home. I have gone on runs all over the world, and running has enabled me to maintain consistency in working out like no other sport.
Still I am not a natural runner. Even on my best days running is a slog. On my worst days, it is grueling punishment that I force upon myself. I have truly enjoyed only a handful of runs and they were all in spectacular locations like the jungles of Costa Rica or atop the Great Wall of China. I think the distraction of location kept me from noticing how miserable I truly was.
I played the pregnancy card as my excuse to stop running. I skied, swam, biked, walked, rowed and kayaked. I'm certain running could have fit into the mix. But he difference is, I love all the aforementioned sports and I tolerate running as a means to an end. The minute I saw the plus sign on the early pregnancy test stick, I stopped running. It still makes me smile to think of my reprieve.
In everyday training, I can't always drop what I dislike, but I will allow myself more flexibility in the future.
Without high intensity workouts or competition to worry about, I took time to look around. I finally had time to smell the pine forest and notice the squirrels skittering through the trees. My enjoyment of all workouts increased and I was inspired to keep going.
High intensity was out, but skills training was in. I found a coach and worked on my skate skiing technique. Believe me I needed it. I gained confidence and for the first time I found I could control my pace and, consequently, my heart rate.
My newly acquired skills enabled me to ski longer with less effort which will help me in seasons to come.
At some point during the pregnancy I had to give up different pursuits. Kayaking was over when I could no longer fit comfortably in the cockpit. Roller skiing reached its terminus when my balance issues made it too precarious to continue. Cruiser bike rides replaced road riding when the spandex of my bike shorts finally said uncle. With each activity I had to give up, I tried to substitute something new and interesting. Walking, rowing, hiking with poles and cruiser bike riding kept the last weeks of my pregnancy stimulating.
Enough said.
A healthy baby was my obvious objective and motivation; enough to keep me working out. But I also wanted to be in the best possible shape to keep up with my baby and provide a positive role model when she did arrive.
On the day my daughter was born, I stayed at home until my contractions were about three minutes apart and increasing in intensity. When it was time to go to the hospital, the last thing I wanted to do was get on a bike. But my husband had the bikes ready, my doctor was expecting to see my bike in the lot, and my own internal voice was telling me I couldn't give up now.
I somewhat reluctantly got on the bike and, to my surprise, enjoyed every minute of the ride, even when I was having a contraction. Despite all the dire warnings that I would crash my bike when the pain hit, I found that I could power through it. In fact, the contractions on the bike were the easiest to bear because I was distracted and doing something I love.
My reward for all the work awaited 12 hours later when my daughter was born and I held her for the first time. Oh, and that comment from the doctor about being legendary. That was cool, too. Now I just need to figure out how a smiley, squirming, squawking baby girl can be a training aid.