I’d just recovered from the article about the ultra-runner who ran at 3 months post-partum while breastfeeding by reminding myself that ultra-runners are an amazing, slightly bonkers, breed of runners: go look at ahealthiermoo who is one, and amazing and who has just completed her first 100 mile race.
I’ve just completed week 5 run 3 of couch to 5k – walk 5 minutes, run 20 minutes, walk 5 minutes and I managed it, and it was still slow going (my pace is still 10mins/mile at best, I still have half a stone to lose), but I enjoyed myself and can see that parkrun will happen again soon enough.
And then I came across the woman who ran a 3:22 marathon at 6 months post partum while pushing a double buggy.
Not that I’d ever have a hope of achieving that type of time even without having had LK: remember, I’m aiming for a sub 4 hour marathon in 2020, having been 2 minutes off at Berlin 2015
All credit to these ladies. But I wish they’d stop doing it. It makes the rest of us feel utterly rotten. Bad enough feeling guilty that I’m even going for a run and leaving LK with Daddy for an hour or so. But to then have this sort of achievement in the news? It makes one feel wholly inadequate. That you’re not even trying: when some days it’s tricky enough to remember to clean your teeth in the morning and take your inhaler and use a hairbrush (I’ve taken to doing this after the 5am feed, so at least it’s done). Some days involve seven changes of clothes in the space of 24 hours, plus two clean trousers for Mummy, who quite often declares “It’s only wee, it’ll dry”. Some days are ridden with laundry and others seem to be entirely nap free: so there’s lots of tummy time and looking at things and talking and smiling and, frankly, enjoying the little human finding her hands, and learning to smile, and lifting her head, and producing Surprising Nappies.
I’m supposed to be baking gluten and dairy free banana bread for a Macmillan coffee morning tomorrow. The bananas in the freezer are totally past it. There is no Stork Hard Margarine and three of the eggs in the Ocado delivery were cracked. So, since we need more nappies (we are about to go back into cloth after Epic Thrush Nappy Rash but the new, next size up, cloth ones need re-elasticating and I’ve only done half), we’re going to head into town to rectify this by buying gf oats, hard marg, caster sugar and making flapjacks to Great Auntie Peg’s recipe, as being quick and easy. I may get fancy and drizzle dark chocolate over them.
Melt together 250g sugar and 250g hard marg in a pan.
Turn off the heat and stir in 250g oats. Mum thinks Quaker Oats are best. But any will do.
Cook in a greased 10″x6.5″ tray at gas mark 3 for 45 mins.
Cut up 10 mins after removing from oven and leave to cool in the tin.
You may thank me later.