A Treadmill Tale

Almost immediately once Ezra was born, I was eager to get back on the exercise horse. Baby weight does not magically fall off my body, so I was very ready to put in the work to get my body back to where I was before the pregnancy. I am always so tired of maternity clothes and cannot wait to fit back into my "normal" clothes.

About 4 weeks post-pardem, I squeezed into my exercise clothes. I strapped on my running shoes. I dusted the cobwebs off our neglected treadmill. My goal was to "just run a quick mile". I got on and set the treadmill pace at a familiar number that I used to run at before pregnancy.

Ha. Hahahahaha.

My body laughed at me. Or rather, screamed at me. I grudgingly kept pushing buttons to slow the treadmill's pace. I had barely managed half a mile. My expectations were too great and my pace too fervent. Because I had started off at too fast a pace, I was too spent to complete my mission.

I had hopes to hop back on the treadmill after a casual 9 month break and be able to do what I used to do with ease. Those expectations were unreasonable and, ultimately, unkind to myself.

I had forgotten all of the hard work that I had put in to be able to run at that previous pace. I had forgotten the hours I spent building up my ability to be able to run at the rate and distance that I could before the pregnancy nausea and fatigue set in. I had forgotten that I would probably need to start from scratch.

I tackled the treadmill again a couple of days later. That time, I set the pace at a slower rate with the goal to complete a mile no matter what. It wasn't super easy, but because I was moving at a slower pace, I was able to complete a mile.

My battle with the treadmill reminded me that if I didn't run a mile yesterday (or anytime in the last nine months), it's going to be harder to run a mile today. I can't expect to achieve a goal when I didn't invest the work needed to meet it.

I can't expect where I don't invest. 

One of the main questions I have been asked since Ezra's birth is, "How is it going with three?"

If you had asked me that 1 week, 2 weeks, 5 weeks ago, I would have smiled and said, "It's going much better than I thought!"
And that was true. That was true.

This week has brought a bit of a six-week slump.

I'm tired, I'm stressed, I'm tired of being stressed and tired. And what's more: there is no end in sight. There is no end to the list of things that need to get done. Boys need to be fed and changed and taken care of....daily. Laundry and dishes and toys need to be cleaned and put away....daily. I need to shower....daily. 

When Ezra first joined our family nearly 7 weeks ago, I felt strong right out of the gate. I was eager to prove that I could tackle being a mommy of three and do it well. And I really feel like I did. I remember the feeling as I drove to church for the first time with all three. All three were dressed and changed and happy. Even more, I was dressed and showered and happy. Life was good, man.

But this week something has changed. I feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of the to-do. And I just don't feel like I can. I just can't even.

I realized this morning that, like that first day on the treadmill, I spent these last 6 and a half weeks at a fervent pace. Eager to prove that "I got this", I spent energy that I did not have. I spent my reserve supply, and it has been showing. In my emotions, in my parenting, in my relationships, it's showing.

If there was a slow down button to push on life with three kids, I would be pushing it. Again and again. That's not really an option when it comes to being a mommy, however.

When I run, I hit my stride when I am focused on something other than the fact that I am running. I set a good pace and work on breathing correctly, and then I try to focus on something else completely. A sermon, a song, a problem. Some of my easiest runs have happened because I was trying to work out a problem or bad day in my head. If all I think about is the fact that I'm running and can't wait to be done, I will end my run much sooner than if I'm able to fix my gaze elsewhere.

Focus matters.

So what do I do when I'm overexerted and can't get off the mommy treadmill? Sticking with the running theme, my only option becomes to re-set my pace. Correct my breathing. Fix my focus.

I can slow down and take deep breaths in order to deal with the task before me. But even more importantly, I can fix my gaze onto something greater.

For me, that means fixing my eyes on God through gratitude. I become busy giving thanks and there isn't enough room for the icky stuff to creep in and settle down.

Where I can see my boys' energy as overwhelming, I choose to see it as a reminder that they are healthy and strong.
Where I can see the crumbs on the floor as a never-ending means of visual torture, I choose to see them as a reminder that we have food to feed our family.
Where I can see frustration that my body isn't whipping back into shape like I wish it would, I choose to see the miracle in my arms that it brought forth.

When I do this, I invest in my joy and peace, and can therefore expect to see increased joy and peace throughout my home.

Because I know, I can't expect there to be joy and peace when I haven't done any of the work to invest in it.

A steady pace. A fixed focus. A happy heart.

"God pays no attention to our natural individuality in the development of our spiritual life. His plan runs right through our natural life. We must see to it that we aid and assist God, and not stand against Him by saying, 'I can't do that'. God will not discipline us; we must discipline ourselves. God will not bring our 'arguments...and every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ' (2 Corinthians 10:5) - we have to do it. Don't say, 'Oh, Lord, I suffer from wandering thoughts.' Don't suffer from wandering thoughts. Stop listening to the tyranny of your individual natural life and win freedom into the spiritual life." - Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest