when you can't run far away because your wife is pregnant.

So you're used to going on daily runs.  After work, maybe and hour or two of jogging and running around the city before heading home.  But what?  Oh my, now your wife is pregnant.  She's alone at home and can go into fits of nausea at any given moment.  There's this instinct that makes you just want to be home or at least nearer.  You're torn.  But you guess that fatherly drive actually kicks in earlier than you thought.

So what now?  The muscles still need to churn.  You've got races you want to do PR's in.  And all the food and energy needs to be burned somehow.  Well, as the pregnant wife with a husband struggling to still keep his running in stride, I have noted the following as possible alternatives to the far-running-away.

The Treadmill.  The obvious indoor choice.  The boring indoor choice.  The ultra-runner, trail-loving hubby doesn't really detest it (okay, maybe he does) but it's the running choice better than not running at all.  The gym in the condo has some and at least he's technically already home.  

I think it can pose its own kind of mental challenge.  Like instead of trying to focus your mind on running X-amount of kilometers with a fair stream of sanity, correct pacing, and positivity, you can challenge your brain to practice selective hearing in order to block out other people's useless clatter and horrid taste in radio stations.

Of the few times I actually went on the treadmill, I actually tried to close my eyes so I could imagine myself somewhere else.  Like in a field.  With furry dogs running alongside me with their tongues sticking out.  But then I lost my footing and almost fell to the side of the machine.  So maybe trying to imagine things with your eyes open can be another challenge.

The Stairs.  We live on the 11th floor and sometimes, just to have that break from the all-horizontal life, the hubby likes to climb up and down the fire escape.  He does the "Honey, I'm home!" bit, makes sure I'm okay and changes into his gear.  For sure he reaches the ground floor.  I'm just not sure if he goes any higher than our floor.  I really can't imagine it.  I usually am ready to die by the third flight of stairs.

It's safe to say that he works up a healthy bit of sweat.  It's not anything like running up an incline in some tree-laced road, but again, it's really better than nothing.

ERRATUM: It has been brought to my attention that the hubby reaches the roof deck of our building. Which is I think the 27th floor.  The up-and-down then continues for at least three times, with running around the complex as "breaks" in between.  Now I don't really know why running around would be considered a break.  Usually a break you know, means to stop and stand still.

The Pool.  The condominium complex we live in has a nice pool, where a section of it I think has a decent lap length.  The hubby sometimes trades in his running shoes drenched in sweat for a legitimate dose of liquid.  He'd do a couple of laps and as per a tip on a running magazine, does some "running" in the water.  The sight is peculiar.  It can be replaced by an old lady undergoing water therapy for some joint injury.

But it seems to be a great challenge - both on strength and perseverance.  Because the water will want to stop you.  And you need to work against it in order to move forward.  Since you're fighting the water's resistance, your body would tend to lean forward too (which is, I hear, part of having good running form).

Just prepare for some of the kids in the pool to look at you weird.  Despite themselves sitting on inflated animals with unproportional body parts.

The Kitchen.  Okay so it's not really running-related.  But at least you get to help relieve your pregnant wife of the gag reflex at the slightest odor of garlic.  Chopping and cooking food involves precision, patience and being in tune with your senses.  That's just like being in a sport, I suppose.  Oh and sometimes you also get wet.  Like, when you need to wash the dishes.  It also involves friction and resistance.  Not in a swimming pool, but like, with some stupid sauce blob that decided to solidify at the bottom of a pan.

Alright, I'm out of things to say.  I'm currently killing time waiting for my husband (I don't think he's supposed to run after work today) and I should be getting to cook in a bit.  Till the next post, guys. Take care.

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