My body was changed by birth. This is perhaps less surprising than the fact that I wasn’t prepared for that change. In the two years since, my relationship with my body has been constantly shifting.
First came the shock. Standing in the shower at the hospital I looked down and felt nothing less than ravaged.
By necessity, healing followed. Then the anger rolled in. My body had let me down.
Acceptance is still a journey I am on, but now I know that bodies can tell stories. Scars can tell of bravery as well as hurt. And some scars can only be seen by you.
Running has been one of my best friends since my birth trauma. There was a time when I thought I wouldn’t ever be able to run in the same way again (keep doing those pelvic floor exercises, believe me - they work miracles!), but slowly and surely, I’ve regained my strength, and with it I’ve regained the trust of my body.
Now, when I run, I remember that feeling of not being able to, and it makes it feel even better. Now I run not to get fit or to get faster, but just because I love the feeling of moving my body, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, just because I can. Sometimes I stop to look around me and enjoy the moment. Now I will never underestimate that small joy of putting one foot in front of the other and the sense of achievement it brings.
I’ve come a long way… and there’s so much further to run...
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