nursing marathon

Somewhere between a breastpump and hypothermia this Sunday, I ran a half-marathon. I'd never run this distance before, but that didn't stop me from committing to "racing" this one. Verbally, at least.

We started the race near the Conservatory of Flowers, which at 4:30am that morning, was twenty inches under water. Simultaneous pumping at 5 am, me for Axel, city workers for the race. By the time the race started, it was almost temperate, but periodic downpours and wind kept things interesting. The race snaked through Golden Gate Park and then out and back along the Great Highway; there were thousands of people on the course (6000 for the half marathon, 3000 for the 5K). Unlike the trail runs I've raced (all two of them), the course never thinned out, and I jostled for space on the road from start to finish.

Never having raced this distance before (the closest I'd come was my first 20K this December, which was mostly a bunch of stairs and then downhill), I wasn't sure what my strategy would be. I thought to divide the course in three: maintain a moderate pace for the first 30 minutes, increase my speed at mile 4, and then again at mile 8. Only, I got bored before the first 30 minutes were up, and started to increase after mile 3, never saw mile 8, and missed mile 11 too. And finished feeling like I could run another 3 miles at that pace, which I took to mean that I'd been too cautious. But that was fortunate, really, because I was parked a mile away, and had to battle wind and rain, numb hands and feet, to get back to the Cliff House where the car was.

It seems like a bad idea to make an analogy between endurance sports and nursing, but what the hell. I never thought I'd be nursing a baby for what is going on a year and a half. Even though I knew the merits of breastfeeding, I only asked of myself to make it six months. When I made it that far, I thought I'd try to make it to the first birthday. And then things got tricky--my desires to have my body back to myself--to not pump before a race, to not be on call throughout the day, to spend an entire day by myself (alone!)--began to seriously compete with Axel's desires for nursing. It's tricky, because I know and can see the value of nursing; Axel is thriving, emotionally and physically. Although he gets most of his nutrients from food now, he gets a lot of physical and emotional security from nursing.

And yet: I dream of a race season where I'm not pregnant, not nursing, and getting a full night's sleep most of the time. (oh, the audacity of dreams)