We Can Work It Out.
Now that we're back from our trip, it's time to reintroduce myself to the "swing of things." While we were away, Chris and I were up late, eating fancy food at fancy restaurants (including desserts and carb-fantastic sweet potato french fries and gelato ... things we wouldn't normally eat but we devoured in spades - and in our mouths - all week long during the festival holy run on sentence), going to bed at 3:30 in the morning, battling the frigging hills, and waking up the next day only to do it again. For nine days running.
It was exhausting.
But now we are home. And in the comfort of my own schedule, I can wake up early, eat a breakfast that doesn't include sausage (not the cat), get enough sleep at night, put my feet up as necessary, and get some exercise in.
Oh, the exercise part. How you plague me.
I used to be awesome at getting to the gym. Not to toot my own horn - more to toot Chris's, actually - but his dedication to the gym helped me keep my proverbial (and literal) butt in gear. It was just part of our routine, and it was easy. And the benefits were tremendous: good health, pants that fit, and that feeling of "ooh, I'm sort of strongish."
But now? As the baby belly grows and my sense of balance leaves the building for the next 75 days? Exercise is hard. Wicked hard.
Since we've been home, I've been back at the gym with Chris, only the workouts I'm doing now feel completely lazy-ass, compared to the ones I was doing before. No weights (thank you, retinopathy), no jumping rope (thank you, bouncy belly), and no increased heart rate over 130.
So I walk. For like 40 minutes on the treadmill, without an incline and at a speed of only 3.0 miles per hour. On paper (screen?) that looks wussy, but in reality, it's kicking my behind. I'm not sure if it's the weight I've put on in the front or the fact that my lungs are squished in there, or maybe just because my whole body is completely different now than it was seven months ago, but just walking on the treadmill is a challenge these days.
I'm going to see how long I can keep exercising. I've heard that many pregnant women make it to the day before they give birth, and I've also heard that the more active I can remain, the better my recovery will be after having the little baby. Activity helps keep BSparl healthier, too, which is even more incentive to keep plodding.
Weird thing is, my blood sugars don't drop during exercise anymore. In fact, they seem to go up a little bit. Before becoming pregnant, I would disconnect my pump and exercise without insulin, but now I need to leave it attached. And I sometimes need to bolus during the workout, depending on how the Dexcom is trending. It's very odd, what my hormones are doing to my blood sugars these days. I also had to increase part of my wee hours of the morning basal today, after two mornings in a row of waking up at 150 mg/dl.
"Kerri, you're rambling. You realize that, right? You're just rambling on about exercise and blood sugars and do you actually have a point with this post?"
Why thank you, Internal Motivational Speaker. I appreciate you bothering me. Yes, I'm rambling, but I'm just trying to get all these thoughts out before I lose them. Which seems to be the case lately.
"Why don't you just tell them that the real reason you're fixated on exercise this week is because when you came home from Sundance, each cat had gained 5 pounds? Now you have a trio of porkchops racing around the apartment? Why don't you admit that Siah can't even fit under the couch anymore because she's too darn fat?"
Sigh. I need to get back into the exercise groove.
And apparently so do my cats.