The air was thick with humidity and clouds hovered overhead, but it was pleasantly cool early yesterday morning. As I approached the arch at Grand Army Plaza, just outside Prospect Park, I imagined how I would appear to the folks I was meeting. I wore yoga pants, a t-shirt, a baseball cap, and running shoes. I’d kept my sneakers adorned with the bright red strip of paper that the New York Road Runners Club had used to time my last event, thinking it provided some measure of cool — just the way I sometimes leave ski lift passes on jackets until they disintegrate. And I wore my heart rate monitor. Hey, why buy all the gadgets unless you use them when the occasion suits?

The occasion was the start of a free running training program put on by Weight Watchers — I applaud them for this, big time, as I think group support for exercise is a hugely important thing. I’d signed up probably months ago and promptly forgot all about it, until the trainer called me, saying the e-mail address I’d given had been bouncing. One letter had been left out. That call had been the wake-up I needed, perhaps, as it’s been a tough few weeks, emotionally and eating-wise.

I’ve been dealing with everything from job interviews to getting special education services for the boy to slowly winding down breast feeding with the baby (hormones gone wild!). Oh, and that’s not even mentioning the whole “attempting to move across the country and starting a family business” thing, which is posing lots and lots of challenges, both in my own emotions and in my relationship with my husband.

There were around 8 or 10 of us to show up at the meeting spot yesterday, everyone really friendly — mostly women but 2 men, as well. I was probably the biggest person there, or at least equivalent to the biggest. We warmed up, we stretched, and then we alternated walking and running, chatting with each other and enjoying the morning in the leafy green shaded park. Afterwards, I felt amazing, and I exchanged contact info with one of my fellow walk/runners, hoping that we can do some of our “homework” together during the week before our next meeting on Saturday.

This is a very very good thing for me. I’ve always been most successful in exercise when I’ve had a buddy, or even a group, to exercise with. Sure, running is usually pretty solitary, but having someone to meet, and someone to talk with, makes a huge difference to me. Back in the mid-90’s, I completed a marathon doing something similar to this Saturday training program. We met every Saturday and did a long run as a big group, and I trained during the week with a friend who ran at a similar pace. At the time, I was working two jobs. Not quite as challenging of a schedule as I have now, but it was relatively intense.

The culmination of this training program? A 5K run over the Brooklyn Bridge. Sounds fun, huh? I’m looking forward to it.

Since June… or really since the prior September, all I’ve worn is maternity clothes. No, I’m not one of those freaks of nature who leaves the hospital with baby in tow while wearing her pre-pregnancy jeans. (I know you’re surprised ;-)) And now, 5 months later, I’m all accustomed to my very limited wardrobe (now that it’s cold, I’ve only had 2 wearable pairs of pants, aka trousers). We just do laundry a lot.

There are a few reasons why I haven’t rushed out to buy new clothes. First of all, we’re pretty darned broke. This having-two-kids thing is a drain on the old bank account, especially given we’re “making payroll” every week, completely supporting another person, our nanny. Then, there’s the idea that I don’t want to make a big investment in togs that I’ll soon be unable to wear, after I slim down. (This one only has a tiny hold on my imagination right now.) But the most important reason is that I had this lingering feeling that there were a whole bunch of clothes sitting in a box somewhere (after our move), just waiting for me to discover them. After all, I had to have been wearing something back in September of 2007, and it wasn’t size 16, which is what I had readily available. Since I’d been wearing maternity clothes at the time we moved, I hadn’t paid much attention to where all my other clothes were packed.

I’d finally broken down this week and bought a pair of plus-sized jeans (18 Ws) at Target, and then, as these things usually go, we started going through boxes last night and uncovered 2 new pairs of jeans (20s) and a few new tops. I’d entirely forgotten about the jeans’ existence. Also, we unearthed some sweatpants for exercise and long-sleeved race t-shirts — so many memories in those race t-shirts. Yippee! I hadn’t realized, until this whole new wardrobe fell into my lap, how much I was eager to wear normal clothes. Of course, I’m going to be running around wearing jeans all the time, but that’s better than yoga pants, right?

So now, self-image-wise, I’m really transitioning to post-partum life. The baby started eating solid food — rice cereal — this weekend, so he’s on the road to being independent of me for his nutrition (though I still hope to breastfeed until he’s a year old). I’ve got non-maternity clothes to wear. Meanwhile, hubby went for a run this weekend, after which he felt really great and declared he is eager to support me in my exercise goals, too. My co-worker said she’d be up for training for a 5K with me in a few months, so we just need to identify the race. And we’re off….

Ok, so the inimitable DietGirl is linking to me today, so I feel like I need to be a better blogger and actually update this site. Welcome, DietGirl readers!

I don’t have tons to say lately, especially on the diet/fitness subject, but I will give it a stab.

If I wasn’t previously a believer in the set-point theory, events of recent weeks might convince me. While pretty much eating/exercising as is natural — which is to say, eating fairly crappily and not exercising at all, save walking — I’ve stuck nearly exactly at the same weight: 217.7-ish. There’ve been ups, and there have been downs, I’m sure, but this has been the story for months now. Hmm…

So, I obviously need a change. (Go, Obama!) Given the overall economic picture (both globally and in our wee household), I don’t think I’m going to be joining a gym anytime soon. We actually have a great arsenal of goodies to move me toward fitness. Just need to avail myself of them. Here’s what I’m blessed with:

• Good shoes
  
• A jog stroller
  
• Exercise videos (and some steps)
  
• A Wii Fit
  
• And a pretty awesome treadmill.
  

The challenge is still a 4-month-old baby who’s either screaming to be held or attached to my boob. And there’s also that pesky 3-year-old who regularly insists that I “play with me!” or wants to sit on my lap. Oh, and that little matter of a full-time job, not to mention a diminishing food budget and a dearth of time to cook. I’m not making excuses. I’m just still not focusing on diet/exercise at this very moment, but I’m still feeling OK and hoping to get in a good long walk this weekend. TGIF.

Here I am… showered, vitamins taken, teeth brushed and face moisturized. I’m even wearing clean clothes. Finally, I found some “me” time to do the very basics.

Next steps: find more “me” time every day to improve my fitness and eat healthfully. That’s what it’s all about, after all. It’s about taking care of myself instead of spending all my time on kid or baby or husband duty, and putting myself last. The past couple of weeks, especially when my aunt was here visiting, I got some glimpses of what it would be like to tend to my own needs again.

This seems simple, but one day I ran into a friend when we were both dropping off our kids at day care. I strolled along with her as she walked over to her gym, and she even gave me a tour. There we were, two women, walking along together, no kids in tow (baby was with my aunt at home). We could set a brisk pace. We could jaywalk. We could worry about no one other than ourselves. And then there was the gym. It was small, but nice, and close by. Hmm… I’d not considered it in my earlier digging (probably because I’d been thinking a lot about the rest of the family), but I found it had definite possibilities, and its proximity to the apartment is a big plus. After saying farewell, I popped over to my favorite bakery and picked up a couple of muffins for myself and my aunt.

Then, another time, my aunt and I were walking home from Target and stopped off to have lunch in this cute little restaurant in my neighborhood. The baby (picture here) did us the favor of sleeping the entire time. So, we ordered two lunches, split them both in half, and each got a taste of both. One came with a free half-pint of a draft beer, so I picked a local brew, which was as tasty as I remembered. We sat in this small restaurant, with wooden booths, exposed brick walls and gorgeous decorative light fixtures… and I felt like myself. I love trying new restaurants and this was just classic Pamela. Oh, how these small moments have helped me recapture who I am and what I want my life to be like.

For those of you without kids, it might be hard to imagine how these seemingly mundane interludes meant so much to me. With being pregnant, and now having my breasts given over to producing milk for the baby — not to mention the constant demands of the now-3-year-old — there just is so little time for me to indulge myself in my hobbies and interests. (Notice how long I go between blog posts.) However, I’ll soon be getting back to work — we’ve hired a nanny to take care of the kids when I return — and life will be getting back to “normal.” In there, somewhere, I need to keep these interludes coming. Time on the treadmill or out for a walk. Manicures and pedicures. New clothes. A night out with a friend. I can’t wait….

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P.S. I’m down to around 223 at last weigh-in (after eating and fully clothed), which is about 10 lbs above my pre-pregnancy weight. Haven’t made much of a special effort, but I have noticed that pushing a stroller with the 3-year-old inside can be a really great core workout, especially uphill.

As my earlier-chronicled body woes have mounted, I’ve been giving serious thought to asking to work from home every day. It would save me from getting dressed in nicer-looking but fairly-constricting clothing. It would save me from tramping up and down stairs and sweating in crowded subways. And it would save me an hour to an hour-and-a-half of time wasted going back and forth to the office.

But… it would also mean I’d be at home alone all day — isolated and probably lonely. I might feel out of the loop at work, even more than I already do. I wouldn’t get the exercise of walking through my commute. I’d live in yoga pants and the like, which might get me down about my appearance. I’d also potentially feel like a bit of a failure, since my ever-expanding body would be keeping me confined to my home, essentially.

On the other hand, this is temporary. I’m 8 months pregnant, and I need to take it easy on myself. It’s cheaper to stay at home, too, as I’d save the commuting dollars and the expenses of eating out. I don’t interact much with the folks in my office, anyway — most of my work gets done over e-mail, or IM, or the phone.

Aargh. I really don’t know. I am already working from home 2x a week. Maybe I’ll just continue with this “wait and see” attitude until I get too miserable to continue the commute. As you can tell, I’m torn. I’m not ready to surrender to the pregnancy yet — though it will definitely happen, even if it’s at the moment I go into labor. I’m too invested in my job and I want to remain relevant as long as possible. Then again, why not go ahead and work from home, or take advantage of the opportunity and go out on (mostly-paid) maternity leave before the actual labor begins, so I’ll have a few days to relax? Hmmm…

Back in the “lot going on” phase…

• I’ve decided to table the “joining a gym” question for now, as I think the more important (or at least first-to-be-fought) battle at the moment is finding the time for myself on a weekend day. It’s been a little nuts the past week (hubby’s father died so he was out of town for the funeral, plus we had houseguests and I had my 10-year grad school reunion), but this weekend I just need to gear up and move — either go for a walk to the park, hit the treadmill, or do an exercise video. Option 1 is the one that’s easiest to do with the family, so we’ll see. (I know I bought that two-kid jog stroller/bike trailer for a reason!)
  
• 8 weeks to go on the pregnancy roller-coaster. Well, 8 weeks until my due date, anyway. Then we start the newborn/toddler roller coaster, so I guess the ride really never stops. But I will be on maternity leave, so that’ll be a definite change of pace.
  
• Our house is on the market now, officially, and the real estate agent held an open house on Sunday. No major activity to report, but it seemed to be well-attended. Fingers crossed that it sells, for our price, and soon.
  

Well, I didn’t get to actually work out this weekend (illness intruded in the form of a 24-hour bug), but I visited and scoped out two different gyms. One is a local place that’s highly regarded, and another is the area YMCA.

I’m actually leaning toward the YMCA, in part because they have other programs that the family could participate in. But the big question remains: should we join at all?

After all, once the nicer weather comes, I could step out the door and go for a walk, or go to the park. (But there’s no child care so that’s dependent on hubby. Or I’d have to bring them along in the jog-stroller or something.) I could also step in front of the TV and do a killer DVD workout. (But there’s no child care.) Would I actually put the kid(s) in a stroller or whatever and haul them on the subway/bus to get to the gym on a regular basis? Would I feel comfortable leaving them to focus on myself? Do we have the money? How important is this? Hmm…

The first gym I belonged to was in Houston. I’d just graduated from college, and moved back in with my mom. I was unemployed, and I was totally kicking butt doing Weight Watchers. Before it was all through, I’d lose 70 pounds all together. Working out — pretty much 6 days a week — was a bit part of my weight-loss success (such as it was).

The gym was in a strip mall, and I got to know the place, with its thin grey carpeting and bright flourescent lights, very very well. When I’d walk in, the employees on duty would just nod at me in recognition — there was no need for me to show my membership card. Then, I’d hop on my exercise machine of choice — the mighty Stairmaster — and, often, say hello to the folks to my left and right, many of whom I knew from many hours of side-by-side sweaty toil. I loved it. And when, months into my routine, I was invited to go running — something that scared me to death (me? a runner?) — I was able to run a full 3 miles without stopping. The Stairmaster had trained me well.

It was also here, and at another location, where I graduated from circuit training and learned about free weights. Somewhere along the way, I started dating a hot, muscular, long-haired guy. He’d skate around at street festivals bare-chested with his pet snake around his neck. (I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.) He taught me a lot about proper form in weight lifting. (I still feel bad that I broke his heart.)

I love the gym. It’s a refuge. A place to focus on myself and my body. Since that first gym, I’ve been a member of bare-bones gyms and top-of-the-line health clubs. Now, thanks to all your encouragement, I’m seriously looking at another type of gym — one with child care. I’m psyched. I plan to go tomorrow, and take the boy, so we can both try out the facilities. Hubby will probably join us, too. This will just be a free three-day trial, but it might just turn into something wonderful.

was walking three long blocks, uphill, in the snow (ok, with snow melting nearby), with a 38 lb 2.5-year-old boy on my shoulders, and an approx. 1.5 lb fetus in my belly.

Really just wanted to say I’m still here, and a lot has been going on. I’m inching toward my due date. We are dealing with a lot of financial matters, including the huge challenge of selling our house in a not-so-great market. We’ve gone sledding — the first time for the boy, and the first time for me (though I didn’t actually sled, due to pregnancy awkwardness.). And each of these sentences could be a blog post of its own — a lot more interesting than this one — but time has definitely been tight lately.

So far, I’ve gained around 12 lbs in this pregnancy, which isn’t terrible. I looked back in the archives and see that, by this point in my last pregnancy, I had gained 19. But I also started out lower, last time. I know I’m eating better this time, generally, and I’m gaining at a slower pace, and I’m walking more. I just desperately want to avoid that super-bloated misery that plagued me late in my last pregnancy. Only 14 more weeks to go. Wow.

Don’t interpret my silence about Shauna’s book as meaning that I haven’t read it, for I did, and quickly. And it doesn’t mean that I didn’t love it. For I did, very much. I’ve just been, uh… digesting. My thoughts are more expansive than one post will accommodate, but I’ll start today with…. Exercise.

After I’d finished reading, the one thing I was left longing for was a box, a table, a chart… something that said: 10 secrets to Shauna’s success. What did she eat? Did she eat carbs after 6 p.m.? After all of those setbacks, how did she get back on the wagon each time?

My best guess to secret #1 is: exercise. It seemed like every time she needed motivation, she dusted herself off and went to the gym. It’s tough to feel bad about yourself and eat like crap when you’re putting in your time on the treadmill, in the fitness class, or whatever. So, in an effort to emulate my superhero, last weekend we set up the treadmill in its new NYC location, and today, I actually did some exercise: Erin O’Brien’s Prenatal Fitness Fix video.

Some of the moves are hard for me, just because I’ve got more bulk than your average (even pregnant) bear. Other moves were difficult because I’m a bit out of shape! But, generally, it wasn’t difficult enough to discurage me, and I managed to follow along pretty well. I chugged about three tall glasses of water — a testament to my dehydration — during the 40 minute workout. I finished it feeling energized and excited. I don’t have to languish on the couch, and I can improve my fitness, despite my delicate condition.

—

I’m weighing around 222 now, which is probably more of a gain than I should have experienced, thus far, but I don’t think I’m far off of last pregnancy. I really don’t want to gain to the weight I did last time (240-ish), though, as I was really swollen and uncomfortable, but it might just be in the genes. Hopefully more daily activity (walking everywhere, getting more exercise) will help.