I've been hit with two roadblocks:
1) Hypothyroidism - apparently my thyroid was hyper, which helped me lose all that weight and has now swung to hypo (underperforming). This condition can lead to rapid weight gain. I've diagnosed myself with post-partum thyroiditis, which occurs to 10% of women after having a baby. Doctors don't talk much about it but it basically means our body goes on a hormone rollercoaster for awhile before calming down after 12-18 months. Then our thyroid returns to normal functioning. My doctor instead called me on my cell and said, "Your thyroid is underperforming and now you must take a pill for the rest of your life, because hypothroidism is a life-long condition." When I called him back and asked if he had ruled out post-partum thyroiditis he said you can never rule anything out and that if I was unhappy he would refer me to a specialist. I am so frustrated that I can't get anyone to talk to me about post-partum thyroiditis, which is what most women say happened to them when they brought it up with their doctors. After much research on my own I decided to take the thryroid hormone prescribed by my doctor until I get to see a specialist on June 1st. But I am really just hoping my thyroid will come back on its own in its own good time.
2) Anxiety - I was hit was a big dose of anxiety after I was a victim of a first degree burglary in early April. I heard footsteps on the stairs at 9:30pm at night. I was in bed with our baby and my husband was talking to me. I stood up and yelled and my husband ran towards the stairs. The burglar ran out of the house, thank God! But now any noise makes me jump and showering and relaxing when my husband is not in the house are impossible. I find I just like to go over to friends houses or stay outside gardening.
With both these roadblocks sapping my energy and cluttering my brain, running has been far from my mind. Although perhaps it should be at the front of my mind, as a life preserver helping me to escape. John "Penguin" B. has a quote on this matter:
"Lately I've noticed that in times of stress I reach for my running shoes. Earlier in my life I might have reached for a cigarette or a beer or food or the company of another person. And, when I once would have turned outside myself for help in tough times, running now allows me to turn inside.
I've noticed, too, that in times of celebration and joy--when before I would have reached for something to eat or drink--I now reach for my running shoes. I find myself running when I'm happy as well as when I'm troubled.
Through the activity of running, more than through the sport, I have come to be a much better friend to myself. Through running I have learned to console myself, congratulate myself, and be accepting of myself.
There are times in my life, though, when there are not enough miles to run. There are times when the movement of my feet seems like the only measure of control I have in my day, in my life. On those days--on the days when circumstances conspire to show me only the worst of who I am and, more discouraging, the worst of who I am becoming--my running shoes become life-preservers."