The Old Bod

I can fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans.

In fact, my legs are smaller than they were pre-Ella.

Me? Smaller legs? Now there's a phrase I'd never thought I'd say.

I should be jumping for joy. I should be singing a round of the "Hallelujah Chorus." I should be happy that my problem area has shrunk.

Except now, every time I slide those pre-pregnancy jeans over my thighs, I barely have time to celebrate. Because I quickly hit my waist-line and immediately fixate on my new problem area.

Ugh. My kangaroo pouch.

I am not a fan.

I'm at my pre-pregnancy weight. I'm back in my pre-pregnancy clothes. But I have this little remnant of a baby bump that is driving me certifiably insane.

Part of it is simply stretched out skin. Part of it is the unnerving fact that my hips spread so I could push my child out. Part of it is the fact that, once I put on my old jeans, I still struggle to button where it used to be easy, thus creating - oh, I can barely even say it - the dreaded mommy muffin top.

Slowly but surely, the rest of my muscles are returning. But my abdominals seem to be fighting a losing battle.

I kick my own butt now several times a week while Ella naps, plus my workouts with my clients, which is why my legs look OK, and my arms are getting their old weight-training tone back.

But my abs? You can barely see them peeking through.

Part of me - the trainer part of me - keeps telling me to give it time. That my hard-work will pay off, and that I'll get to where I want to be ab-wise soon enough.

Then, the drill instructor inside me also keeps yelling, "Stop whining! Work out more if you want your abs back!"

But the mommy part me has no earthly idea when I'd fit in more exercise, seeing as I literally run around doing everything from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed.

Frankly, I'm exhausted.

I work, work out, take care of Ella, take care of our home, cook, clean, do laundry, and try to maintain some sort of social circle for all of us - alone.

Yesterday, I had to finish my workout by completing push-ups while leaning over Ella and entertaining her so she wouldn't fuss. And during my rest intervals, I was hanging up wet, clean clothes that can't go in the dryer.

Sometimes, the mommy part of me wants to give up. It's almost more trouble than it's worth.

Worse yet, the mommy part of me wants to say, "By the time I actually see my abs, I'll probably be pregnant again, anyway. So what's the point?"

Obviously, I'm delusional, as I have a 3 month old, and I'm already thinking about Baby #2.

But that's a post for another day.

For now, I sit here, lamenting my mom gut.

Cursing the ever-loving fact that I'm not fighting the scale but am instead fighting a flabby patch of skin that makes my skinny jeans look fattening.

And desperately trying not to let the self-conscious little teenage girl inside me bleat our, "But it's not fair!"

***

So, for now, I will continue on and add this to the list of unfair questions I will one day ask God, along with "Why can only men stand up and pee?" and "Why make fried chicken and chocolate cake taste so good but be so bad?"

Because, truthfully, it's not fair.

But life's not fair, and all it takes is one look at my daughter to understand that she's undoubtedly worth every last saggy inch of it.

***

Happy (Workout) Wednesday, everyone!

Maybe Baby (Belly)

It's time to get real.

Really real.

Because I am one month post-partum, and I have a confession:

I really haven't exercised since I had my baby. Not even a little bit.

Yeah, sure, Ella and I have ventured out for a few walks with our jogging stroller. And thanks to the heat, after a few miles, both she and I are sweating profusely.

But I am by no means working out like I used to.

Heck, I'm not even working out like I did while I was pregnant. Even a little bit.

Now, simply because of my own negligence, I have no room to complain. Because when I look at myself in the mirror, and express irritation and sometimes disgust, I realize I have no one to blame but myself.

Still, I am dreading the fact that Ella and I have to go back to work in three weeks. My clients are going to wonder what happened to me.

OK, that might be an exaggeration.

After all, my legs and arms are the same size, albeit a bit less toned.

But my belly? Oh, my belly.

I look like I have a beer gut - something I've always managed to avoid, even in the infamous college years.

It's the last vestiges of my baby belly. It's not huge, but it's definitely flabby.

I've never had my tummy be my trouble zone, but now, I look like I've completely lost all of my abdominal muscles.

Which, in a way, I guess I did, as my abs split to let my little 7-pound baby girl grow for nine months straight.
She was totally worth it, but I can't help but be ticked that my running tights are now topped by a muffin top.

Still, I feel bad complaining. To be honest, I only gained 22 pounds during my pregnancy, and I can already fit in my pre-pregnancy pants. But I worked hard to achieve that.

Heck, I walked four miles, lifted weights, swam, and taught an hour of spinning the day before Ella was born. I attribute all that prior exercise to my quick recovery, as well as the fact that I felt almost no bodily pain anywhere during my first few days of post-partum recovery.

But, still, my belly. My flabby, post-baby belly.

Ick.

I hate it.

Worse yet, I know how to fix it. This is what I do for a living. And, yet, I have no time. You try doing crunches with a baby latched to your breast.

The fact is, I'm probably going to have to go back to work just to get back into shape. Which means I'm going to have to withstand the withering looks of clients who are sincerely wondering what happened to me, wondering how I could have let myself go, wondering why seven weeks wasn't enough time for me to get my booty - or, rather, my post-baby belly - back in shape.

Sigh. Oh, the guilt of a Trainer-Turned-Mommy.

All this to say that, for those of you out there lamenting the loss of your pre-baby body, trust me, you are not alone.

I'm "in the business," and I'm still in the same boat as you.

Here. See for yourselves.
Told you it wasn't pretty. But, right now, that's my reality.

Here's hoping that in a month's time, I can post a flatter, more toned tummy.

Still, I'm not making any promises. This may be a longer process than I originally thought.

Because right now, the closest I'm getting to crunches is staring longingly at my stability ball while I'm stuck in the rocker, nursing Ella every hour on the hour.

Suffice it to say, I will not be wearing a bikini this summer.

So, here's to reality.

Here's to a world where moms look like moms.

Here's to a world where our babies come first.

And here's to a world where, on a good day, I can squeeze in a few crunches between breast-feeding sessions.

RIP Flat Belly. I will remember you fondly.

***

I'm back to posting Workout Wednesday sporadically around here. So, as always, if you have any suggestions or posts you'd like to see, feel free to post them below.

Happy Exercising, everybody!

How Much Longer Can I Do This? Exercise During Your Third Trimester

I have developed a real love-hate relationship with my job over these last few weeks.

For one thing, I'm constantly sore. I'm talking Holy-Cow-I-Feel-Like-I-Just-Did-an-Ironman sore.

It's not the exercise, though; it's the pregnancy.

And another thing is that, honestly, I'm just over it. I'm tired. All the time. When I have to get up at 4:30 a.m. to go meet a client for a circuit-training session, I pretty much want to kill someone.

My body is full-on rebelling at the thought of doing anything but lumbering from my rocker to my bed and back again.

Case in point: Yesterday morning, where I ended up walking with some of my post-partum clients for about six miles. At mile five, my left hand just swelled up. Ballooned right up like a peach. It was bursting above my watch and all around my wedding ring. It was freakish.

And it was all thanks to the fact that I'd spent the last five miles walking with Baby Girl pushing on a nerve on my left side. I could feel it the entire time. But darn it, I couldn't get her to move, and the result? One puffy, swollen left hand.

Lovely.

And, yet, I'm not quitting. I refuse to, in fact. I may be miserable, but according to the doctor and midwives, I'm perfectly fine. Baby Girl is thriving. And now, more than ever, I firmly believe in exercise during pregnancy.

My last pregnant client delivered her third child over a month ago. She had her last session with me a day before she went into labor at 39 weeks. Within three days of her son's birth, she reported she was "feeling great, much better than I did with my first two kids."

Her births were exactly the same with all three children, as were her pregnancies. The only difference was, during this pregnancy, she exercised religiously from Week One to Week 39. She attributes her quick recovery, weight-loss, and general lack of labor soreness to her consistent exercise regimen during her son's gestation, and so do I.

In addition, new research reveals that consistent cardio exercise during pregnancy actually builds babies with stronger hearts. (Better yet, months and years away from their birth, children of mothers who did cardiovascular exercise still had stronger hearts than those born to mothers who did not.)

We're giving our children scientifically proven advantages in the womb by exercising. Even though some days it seems impossible, I definitely want to give my child that gift.

Not to mention the fact that no athlete goes into a big race or game without properly training for it. Birth, in fact, is the same way. I have to have the strength, and more importantly, the will-power and endurance, to withstand a very intense physical process.

So, exercise I shall.

But what does it look like, exercise this late in the game? It honestly depends on the day and the time. I handle myself much like I handle my pregnant clients, and then sometimes, I push myself further because I know my body, and I know my limits.

Regardless, I listen to my body more than I ever have before. It's been the key to my success in this final trimester.

So, now, I leave you with four tips for exercising during your third trimester:

1. Try and keep things consistent

By this, I mean, if you go to the gym four times a week, keep going four times a week. You don't have to do the same thing every time you go. Sometimes, my energy and body are so lethargic that I literally can just walk on the treadmill for 30 minutes. But you do need to go, regardless of how little or how much you can fit in once you get there.

With your ever-growing child, your body is already experiencing a fair bit of inconsistency this late in the game. You'll notice random swelling, constipation, and awkward bloody noses, for instance, in very-pregnant women.

But exercise helps reduce all those late-stage symptoms by keeping your blood circulating and your body aligned.

Some days, you might be up-and-at 'em at the gym, taking a kickboxing class or mastering the Stairmaster, and other days you may just be barely moving.

But you are moving. And you're there. And that's all that matters.

Don't expect the same performance you delivered during your first and second trimesters. As much as it bugs me, personally, I also know it's just not going to happen.

Your body is too busy growing a human. You simply don't have the energy or mobility left to do what you were doing even a month ago. Therefore, just shoot for quality movement of some kind every day. That's better than most women do when they're this broken down by their pregnancies.

2. Watch your your body's fluids - both those in and those coming out

Obviously, you have to drink a lot of water to stay hydrated while pregnant. Exercising moms need to be drinking even more so.

Good water intake will help reduce swelling, and it will help lubricate your joints, which are already in a fair amount of pain from holding up you, the baby, and the inevitable extra baby weight.

Furthermore, though, you need to pay attention to what liquids are leaving your body. If you experience drastic mucus loss after exercise, or your notice bleeding this late in the game, you may be pushing it too hard.

In addition, swelling - and no strong urge to pee after you exercise - may mean you're dehydrated.

And loose bowels may mean you're instigating contractions with your exercise. (This has happened to me quite a bit, but the baby has been fine, so I've been allowed to continue exercising. Check with your doctor or midwife if you're prone to this, though.)

Especially those women who exercise outside need to be consistent with water-and-veggie/fruit intake before exercising. The heat will increase your chances of swelling, for instance, but eating and drinking a diet high in water, electrolytes, and fluids will help you and your pregnant belly cope with the elements.

3. Notice physical weaknesses and work to fix them

I have a friend who is about 28 weeks pregnant who has major pain and soreness in her tailbone. She's been working to strengthen the area with several yogic exercises, as well as chiropractic adjustments.

I myself have incredibly sore hips, knees, and ankles. I've been stretching, massaging and strengthening the areas with resistance bands before I go into labor.

Every body has weaknesses, and you can bet your bottom dollar you will notice them more when you're in labor.

You have to compensate for that now, before the baby comes.

Simple strengthening exercises, stretching, and massage can do the trick for most of us. I, for one, think every pregnant woman should be adjusted by a licensed massage therapist or chiropractor before labor. Alignment is important, and exercise can help with that.

Make sure, no matter what you're doing at the gym, you maintain good posture, keeping your joints aligned and your core engaged (as much as you can, considering your abdominal muscles have now separated to make room for the baby.) Wear braces on your ankles, knees, or lower belly for support if it helps. And keep in mind that you're working to strengthen the parts of your body that are going to help you get your baby out easier and safer.

That will help motivate you when your body feels it's typical third-trimester lethargy and soreness.

4. Assess certain exercises with your physician

Some midwives and doctors tell their patients to be wary of squats starting at around 36 weeks because the movement can force the baby into "sunny-side-up," or face-up, position.

Others warn you to stay off your flat back to prevent hang-ups in circulation.

Still others tell you any and everything you can do is A-OK and guaranteed to help induce your labor. However, almost all practitioners want you to wait until 37 weeks (full-term) to go into active labor, so they may warn pregnant women against over-exertion and exercise of any kind.

It all depends on every woman's individual body and baby. And, in order to be sure about what's safe at this point in the pregnancy, ask your doctor specific questions about what you should and shouldn't be doing.

They will be the best ones to assess if you're at risk for a breech birth, premature labor, or an early rupture of membranes. And they will be the ones who can tell you what exercises will help or hinder your situation.

Some trainers do have the proper training to help you with exercise selection and to monitor your exertion level, but many don't. Few programs and licenses require trainers to learn extensively about exercise and pregnant women, especially pregnant women in their third trimester. So, unless you have a trainer specifically trained to work with pre-natal mamas, double-check everything with your doctor, just in case.

***

If you missed it, here's my posts on exercise during your first and second trimesters.

And, as usual, remember that all exercise regimens during pregnancy are typically designed and recommended for low-risk pregnant women. Women considered high-risk should consult with their physicians before doing any exercise at any point during their pregnancy.

Until next week, Happy Workout Wednesday, everyone!

And There's The Wall

Lest we all forget, I'm stubborn.

Which is why I insisted a while back that I was going to run a few 5Ks 30+ weeks pregnant.

Nothing eggs me on more than people telling me not to do something. Or, better yet, telling me I can't do something.

My midwives know this all too well.

In fact, when I told them I was going to run another 5K last week, one just looked at me and delivered the line that could characterize my whole pregnancy:

"OK. It's not like you'd listen to me if I told you not to do it, anyway."

She totally gets me, doesn't she?

So, yes, despite the fact that the last 5K I ran three weeks ago helped put me into a bout of false labor, I decided I'd run another one this past weekend, too.

The cause was a good one (research for post-partum depression) and an even bigger group of my clients was participating.

Plus, my husband said he'd do it with me.

So I was in.

Then, a week prior, I finally began to feel the full weight of my pregnancy.

Everything hurt. My posture was totally off. The extra 13 pounds I'm carting around made most things difficult. I couldn't even sleep comfortably. And my uterus loved to have Braxton-Hicks contractions at the most inopportune times.

I was sore just from living.

So, I succumbed. On the morning of the 5K, I told my clients, point-blank, "I'm not going to even try and run this race. I'm going to walk the entire thing."

No one even batted an eye.

I was 34 weeks pregnant, for goodness sake. I was just lucky I got my running tights on that morning, and they knew it.

Then, the starting gun went off.

And I started to run.

I swear, I don't know what came over me. It wasn't like I wanted to do it. The first step was painful, in fact. I had to pee almost immediately. Every lift of a foot and slam down on pavement felt like torture.

And, yet, I was running. Right after I said I wouldn't be.

What is wrong with me?

The thing is, I'm no runner, but I can run. But what I was doing Saturday morning? That was not running. This was some sort of medieval torture that I seemed to insist on exerting on myself.

I basically hobble-jogged along. It was a cross between a waddle because of my belly, a Kegel because of my bladder, and a shuffle, which is about the only way I can run these days.

When I hit mile marker No. 1, I don't think I've ever felt more discouraged.

Children, old men, and women with umbrella strollers were breezing past me. The police escorts for the race were laughing at me. And one woman, who lived in a house along the race's path, came out onto her front porch with her two toddlers and positively yelped, "Dear God!" when she saw me.

The last time I'd felt so awkward in a race, I was 11 years old, at my first swim meet, when my goggles fell off after I dove in, and I had to swim the entire 100-meters blind as a bat and thrashing.

Up until this weekend, I've never wanted to quit a race so badly.

Then I hit mile marker No. 2.

At this point, I began to think I'd never make it.

Two miles had never felt worse.

Still, I kept running, ruing the day I signed up for this stupid race. I didn't know if I was madder at the circumstances or myself. I just wanted to stop running.

Then, from a distance, I saw it. My savior. A red hat, bobbing along on a big, old body.

My husband, come to rescue me.

Apparently, the boy had finished the race ahead of me then turned around to race back and make sure I wasn't on the trail somewhere in the throes of early labor.

I immediately perked up.

As if I was running the Boston Marathon and not a measly 3+ miles, I yelled out to the clients behind me, "We must be getting close! There's my husband!"

He's no runner, either. He couldn't have been that far ahead of me, I thought.

He did an about-face once he reached me and began to jog beside me. There was a new spring in my step. Thanks to him, I could sense the finish line, and, more importantly, the glorious bathrooms that lay ahead.

But, then, it didn't come.

I kept waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And running. And running. And running.

After every turn we rounded, after every corner we turned, I thought we'd see it. And?

Nada.

I was losing steam - and bladder control - fast.

So, finally, my inner whiny-girl came out, and I managed to huff out, "Where is it, babe? Where's the finish line? We have to be close, right?"

But he wouldn't even answer me.

Apparently, it wasn't that close.

Apparently, 3.2 miles wasn't quite up yet.

Apparently, I looked desperate enough that, instead of telling me how far I had left, he just said, "You know, you can walk if you need to. You're 34 weeks pregnant, babe!"

But I wouldn't. I couldn't. (The running shuffle I was doing was the only thing holding my bladder's contents in. Stopping could have been very detrimental.)

Until, finally, I finished.

Not dead-last, but close.

Oh, heavens, it wasn't pretty.

I slowed down enough to grab a bottle of water and yell directly at my husband, "I am not running again until your child is out of me, got it?"

The entire finish-line posse laughed.

I, meanwhile, wanted to pass out.

I consoled myself about my shoddy performance with a trip to the bathroom and a bagel from a concession stand.

Then, I asked to leave.

I was having super-painful, maybe-false-labor Braxton-Hicks contractions yet again. And all I wanted to do was lie down.

So, we left. Or, rather, we were leaving, when, from the stadium, we heard my husband's name.

The stinker had won second place in his male age group for his darn 5K. He even got a medal.

I, meanwhile, wouldn't have even placed in the senior-citizen division.

***

I can't believe I'm saying it - and meaning it - but this time, I really think I'm done.

I don't think I'll be running anymore during the last five or six weeks of this pregnancy.

I'll keep working out with my clients and cycling and walking and lifting weights, which all are tough these days but bearable, but the running can't happen anymore.

My body, and bladder, just can't take it anymore.

No more 5Ks. No more race-training days. And, therefore, no more false labor contractions, God willing.

I've done enough. I just want to rest now.

We'll let me husband run all the races and win all the awards for the next six weeks.

I'm too busy growing this darn baby.

***

Happy Workout Wednesday, everyone!

See Trainer Run

You all give me too much credit. Really. You do.

While I so appreciated all your sweet comments Monday about how awesome it is that I run and exercise religiously while pregnant, I have to tell you, it's not always that pretty.

Honestly, there are days I'm waddling at work.

It's not graceful. It's not athletic. It's just life. Life as a pregnant trainer.

Case in point:
Take a wild guess which one I am.

Oh, yes, I'm the large and in charge pregnant trainer yelling at someone on the far left.

Lately, that's been my normal M.O. Large, puffy, and plugging away at a job that is getting increasingly uncomfortable.

Still, I do love working with women who have kids. And I love when we all rally together on a Saturday morning to do something like run a 5K.

So, in these illustrious photos from this past weekend, that is just what we're doing.

My clients and I before running the very 5K that may or may not have jump-started the false labor I experienced Saturday night.

Look how excited we all are. Seriously, it's almost like we have no idea what we're getting ourselves into.

And, honestly, that's totally the truth.

At least for me.

You see, my clients did great. Some of them ran faster than me. I expected that. Seeing as I'm, like, hugely pregnant and all.

But what I didn't expect was how badly it was going to go. For me, anyways.

More than 90-percent of the race was on rocky, muddy terrain. I was pushing a 3 year old, who insisted on carrying on an in-depth conversation with me for the entire 3.1 miles.

And my own child, safely tucked away in my womb, alternated between riding up into my lungs and cutting off my air flow, or pushing head-down and hard directly onto my bladder, causing me to seriously debate running off course and into the trees to relieve myself.

In fact, the pressure was so intense that I'm ashamed to say I may have wet myself a little bit when I sneezed mid-run and lost bladder control for about .4 seconds.

Luckily, my 3 year old companion didn't seem to mind. He just kept on talking.

"We're gonna go faster soon, right, Miss Brittany? We're running really fast up there, right? We're going over this rocky road faster now, right?"

Poor angel. He was trying to be encouraging.

But it was all I could do to gasp out, "Right, sweetheart. Right!" without either pee-ing myself completely or passing out from lack of oxygen flow.

Dear heavens, I've never had this baby in my womb be so uncooperative.

Needless to say, by the time I crossed the finish line, I was one hot mess:

Ewwwww.

What this picture doesn't show is the fact that I literally pushed my stroller off to the hands of a waiting client and kept right on running.

Straight into a church bathroom.

Dear heavens, I've never been so glad to see a 1970s-inspired toilet.

Thankfully, I returned a few minutes later, still walking and alive and ready to cheer on the rest of my racing clients.

But, alas, I was depressed a bit, too. After checking my times - "just for kicks," I told myself - I was hanging my head in shame.

I mean, I run every day. Baby Girl normally cooperates.

But something about racing brought out a whole other side of me. It was like my athletic mind was screaming at me, "Go, lady, go!" And my pregnant body was yelling right back, "Dear heavens, just stop and lie down in that brush over there for a bit! No one will miss you!"

Except, I couldn't stop. I had clients ahead of me. (Yep, some of my own clients beat me. I was slightly shame-faced.)

And I had even more clients behind me. (Who would totally have seen me stop running and would have probably thought I'd gone into early labor. No need to cause panic, I figured. Plus, um, did I mention the shame?)

Plus, I still had my sweet, albeit overly chatty, running partner yelling up at me from his swanky jogging stroller, "Faster! Faster! I can see the end up there!"

So, finish I did. But barely.

I finished slower than I've ever run a 5K before. I finished sweatier than I've ever run a 5K before. I finished uglier than I've ever run a 5K before.

Short of the immediate relief of "Oh, thank you God, it's over, and I didn't even have to resort to public urination!" I felt like that 3.1 miles had been a marathon.

I felt like my snail-like, pregnant jog had been a sprint.

And I felt like killing every single one of my clients who'd convinced me to do another 5K a mere three weeks from now.

I better go buy a pack of Depends. I think I'm going to need them.

***

I am seriously considering just walking the next 5K in the beginning of May, especially considering I'll be 34 weeks pregnant. (I know. I can't believe I even just admitted that.)

Still, I'm actually thinking it over. I mean, I'm super-pregnant. No one would blame me. (Except my own critical inner ego.)

Plus, when working with clients who have children, there's always a need for somebody to do this:
For the record, I'm feeding a client's baby before the race last week, lest you think I enjoy fueling up before a big race with a nice jar of pureed carrots.

Seems a little lower-key, doesn't it? May not require as many adult diapers, perhaps?

It may not be the high road, but it sure does look like the easy one.

And, let me tell you, the easy road is starting to sound better and better.

***

Happy Workout Wednesday, everyone!

Bring on the Birth Biddies

I have a special place in my heart for veterans. Older people. Those that came before me and, I assume, are far wiser than I.

It's why I love so many of my clients I see several times a week.

Because I work for the military, I get to train and teach veterans. They are by far the most colorful group of clients I know. It makes work fun.

Or it did until recently.

Because the problem that's become glaringly obvious between me and my older clients is the generation gap.

Or, rather, the pregnancy generation gap.

Most women who had babies more than 20 years ago were actively encouraged not to exercise during their pregnancies. They were told you could do too much and hurt yourself and the baby. They were told to rest and relax and not lift heavy objects. They'd never heard of a thing called pre-natal yoga.

It was, as we say, a different time.

Luckily, times have changed.

And now, doctors and midwives and the experts-that-be openly acknowledge that, for a low-risk, healthy women who had a history with exercise prior to their pregnancies, running, cycling, and even strength-training can be done, and can actually be quite beneficial for them and their unborn babies.

Unfortunately, no one has told my older clients that. And recently, they've been doing their best to scare me with their out-dated obstetrical beliefs, each and every morning I walk through the gym doors.

Yesterday alone, one of my 60 year olds proceeded to tell me that, at the rate I was going, I was going to go into labor so spontaneously and so fast that my husband wasn't even going to have enough time to get me to the birth center. I was going to have to give birth on the side of the road, in my car, and my husband was going to have deliver Baby Girl.

It was all I could do not to retort back, "Please God, if my labor starts that easy and goes that quick, I'll be thankful."

Then there are the older women in my cycling classes who literally yell at me to, "Take it easy!" or "Don't do that!" or "Stop it! You're hurting your baby!" all while I'm teaching.

I'm constantly grinning through my gritted teeth and laughing it off, but let me tell you, it gets annoying. Especially because I know me and Baby Girl are A-OK.. She's been cycling with me since the day I conceived, and so far, she's gotten glowing reports from the midwives.

I think she's fairing just find, thank you very much.

Then, there's the client who stopped me yesterday and told me not to jog anymore till "that baby comes out."

Keep in mind, she'd just seen me "jog" all of 10 feet in an attempt to open the door for another trainer wielding several BOSU balls. I wasn't taking off on an Ironman-long run at break-neck speeds by any means.

So, when I tried to put her fears to rest by telling her I've actually been running with my post-partum clients for my entire pregnancy and was even planning on doing a few 5Ks 30+ weeks pregnant as well, she about had a fit.

She actually forbid me to do them, in fact, citing the logic, "I'm old enough to be your mother, and since your mother isn't here, I'm just going to have to step in and mother you for her. I will not let you run anymore while you're pregnant."

Oh, if she only knew my mother, who's well aware of my exercise habits and hasn't objected once to them.

So far, I haven't made it through a session with an older client without them mentioning, in some capacity, that I'm going to "kill my baby doing that." Or that "my water is going to break right here, right now, and it's too early for that."

They refuse to listen to my objections that my baby is kicking and walloping all the time, so I'm pretty sure she's well and good and alive and that my water isn't close to breaking any time soon.

Plus, they don't see the logic in the fact that some people do crazy things like intravenous drugs while pregnant and still manage to miraculously birth perfectly normal, full-term babies.

I think me demonstrating push-ups isn't going to be the difference between a healthy and sickly newborn.

Their scare tactics have gotten so frequent that I'm even dreaming about them.

A few nights ago, I had a dream in which I was 40 weeks pregnant and teaching cycling. Intense contractions started, and one client of mine declared I was in labor.

Then, all my clients swarmed me. Before I could even say, "Really. I'm OK. I'm just having contractions. The baby isn't about to pop out just yet," they'd all lifted me over their heads - crowd-surfer-style - and carried me off to some strangers' car.

They began to drive me to the doctor - in the exact opposite direction of my midwives and their birth center.

Meanwhile, I was protesting loudly, telling them, "No! The birth center is that way! If you're taking me anywhere, you're taking me there!"

Until one of the older ladies screamed at me, "You're delusional! You don't know what you're talking about! I'm taking you to my doctor! A better doctor! He's what you need!"

***

Luckily, I've likely only got 10 or 11 weeks left till Baby Girl is here. Then, all this rigmarole can stop every time I see my older clients.

But right now, it's feeling like a long 2.5 months ahead. I know their complaints about my pregnant exercising are only going to get worse as I get bigger. And no matter what I say, nothing seems to sway them.

They're stuck back in the dark ages, where pregnant women were treated like invalids.

Meanwhile, I guess I'll just continue to boggle their minds. And, God willing, birth a healthy baby.

Perhaps she will finally convince them that all my exercise wasn't going to be our final demise.

Then again, probably not.

Because I can totally hear them already: "Well, you got lucky. But next time, you need to take it easier..."

***

Happy Workout Wednesday everyone!

Will Run for Doughnuts?

I know, as a trainer, I'm not exactly creating world peace.

I'm not shaping the free world as we know it.

I'm not exactly "making change."

In other words, I'm no Mother Teresa.

Altruistically, being a teacher was probably better for my do-gooder image.

I mean, it's hard to argue with people who spend every waking day helping to shape the minds and morals of children.

But then real life took over. I married a military man. I got pregnant. I firmly believed in raising my kids as a stay-at-home mom. You know the story.

So here I am, working part-time as a fitness instructor and personal trainer, specializing in women's fitness and post-partum recovery.

In all honesty, it's probably a step down. In the eyes of the world, that is. (In fact, sometimes, I purposely don't tell people I have a master's degree. Simply because I know they'll think, "But what are you doing with your life then?")

Still, my life makes me happy. My current job suits our lifestyle. And it also brings in supplemental income that, quite honestly, has saved our butts more times than I can count.

So, in our current economy, I'm grateful for that.

Plus, in it's own (maybe less-so-but-still-important) way, I do sometimes feel like I'm giving back.

I'm educating women (and men) about their bodies and healthy lifestyles. I'm helping set up routines that they can follow, which will help instill physical and mental changes in their physiques and personalities.

I'm creating good endorphins, people. And the world can never have enough good endorphins, as far as I'm concerned.

Plus, when I have a client lose 50+ pounds and fit into clothes two sizes smaller than she's ever worn, I love it. When I notice slimmed-down bodies of women who just gave birth, I smile. And when I realize that people choose to spend time with me multiple times a week so I can yell at them and make them perform untoward amounts of exercises, I almost jump with glee.

Being a trainer can be a very rewarding job.

Part of my biggest thrill is watching how, with a little inspiration and hand-holding via exercise, clients can change their entire outlook on life.

They start exercising on their own more. They make healthier food choices. They forgo the car and walk to the grocery store. And, more often then not, they get involved in activities that are good for them.

I have a client right now biking across the country. I have clients who are signing up for a spin marathon to support him. I have clients running across one of Ch*rleston's most infamous bridge runs this very weekend.

They pack up their babies in strollers and grab their husbands, and they go. While the majority of Americans sleep in on Saturdays and gorge on heavy breakfasts, I love watching more and more of my clients rise early, eat healthy, and go for a jog.

It's inspiring.

Luckily, we live in a community where there is no shortage of such events. You can't get through a weekend around here without someone offering a fun run, a 5K, or a Marine-style obstacle course. It's very easy to be active in the South.

Plus, as members of the local military community, we're encouraged to go out in droves to show our support for other causes (just as the community supports us) and represent the U.S. Navy with pride, whether we're active duty or dependents in it.

We're all about the team spirit.

Which is why I wasn't shocked when one group of my clients walked in, murmuring about a 5K they wanted to run come April. It was supposed to be fun, raise money for some such good cause, and they could do it as a team.

This happens all the time. I barely batted an eye.

Then, I got an e-mail from another client of mine.

She wanted to register for the same 5K. Furthermore, she wanted to sign up our training group of post-partum moms for the same 5K. She thought it would be fun.

I agreed with her.

And then I noticed the hitch.

Because this was no ordinary 5K.

This 5K happened to be sponsored by the one and only Krispy Kreme.

Participants in said 5K were not just expected to run 3.1 miles, but were also then expected to swallow down a dozen glazed doughnuts after doing so. (Kind of defeats the purpose, wouldn't you think?)

And my crazy clients? Yeah, they're all for it.

In fact, they're signing up in record numbers for this baby.

Women who never run during our workouts are agreeing to run a 5K. Clients who haphazardly spin a few times a month with me are rarin' to go.

Seriously, I'm going to have at least two teams of people there that I train. I'm not sure whether I should be proud or shame-faced.

My post-partum group even wants me to do it with them.

Because that's totally setting a healthy example as a trainer. You know, being 31 weeks pregnant, running a 5K, and then doing my part to down a dozen fat pills, er, doughnuts.

Sweet Lord. They're gonna take away my license for this.

They're probably going to revoke it for even just considering it.

And, yes, I am actually considering it.

Granted, I'm hanging my head in shame while I consider it. But I am still considering it.

You see, I like doing things that involve a team effort. And a lot of my post-partum clients are not just clients, but are also my friends. Plus, I know if I actually run it with said clients, they are far more likely to push themselves instead of giving up and walking one mile into the race.

There's also the ever-present fact that I don't ever let myself eat doughnuts. Especially not pregnant.

So "earning" them, in a way, seems like a grand idea these days.

Still, my trainer hat is hanging down in shame.

Because logically, running 3+ miles and throwing back a dozen glazed ones sounds a bit nauseating.

It also doesn't sound like good nutrition and exercise physiology by any stretch of the imagination.

Basically, it goes against everything I know about working with runners and athletes and all sorts of people who like to challenge themselves with a race of some kind.

Still, try telling that to a pregnant woman.

Better yet, try telling that to a bunch of pregnant or nursing or I-just-had-a-baby-and-all-I-want-is-sugar-because-I-can't-sleep-more-than-two-hours-straight women.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Which is why, I imagine, you'll see me running a 5K in three weeks. And rewarding myself with a doughnut or two after. Surrounded by all my favorite clients.

Go ahead and revoke my license.

I have a feeling it's going to be worth it.

***

That's it for this week's Workout Wednesday! Until next time, Happy Exercising, everyone!

If You Think I'm Cute, You Should See My Placenta

Last week, I went in for my routine "Hi! I'm pregnant!" check-up with my midwives.

The place was bustling. There were two women in labor; a mama who had just had her baby that morning; four pregnant women waiting for exams; two girls wandering aimlessly waiting on their glucose test results, and one new mother doing a breast-feeding consultation.

In true midwifery-model fashion, we were all peeking in on each and other and talking and having a grand old time.

I spent my few minutes of wait time in the birth center's library with several other pregnant ladies, swapping baby names and natural-childbirth book recommendations.

The midwifes were laughing and moving among us beautifully.

Finally, it was my turn, and I ventured into one of the exam rooms, where - after we checked Baby Girls' heartbeat and my blood pressure - the midwife and I curled up on the couch to check in and talk.

This is my favorite part of my appointments; the midwives never seemed rushed. They humor and answer any silly question I may have. And often, they have such valuable, interesting advice and research they can put into my hands right then and there that I find myself actually looking forward to my appointments.

So, this time, I began to recount all my concerns with my current job.

Recently, while working vigorously with some of my clients, I've experienced some Braxton-Hicks contractions. I've also been the recipient of several glaring looks and warning statements from various gym patrons.

And though I know that I'm pregnant, not ill, and therefore perfectly capable of exercise, it started to worry me that perhaps I needed to be more careful. Perhaps I was indeed doing something to hurt my baby.

So I brought it up with my midwife.

And she looked at me, excitedly.

"Oh, Brittany, actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about this," she said.

Insert feelings of Freak-Out Mode creeping in on me.

"We were just discussing you around here, in fact," she added.

Enter me, now totally scared out of my mind, because dear heavens! The midwives are bringing me up in office meetings, which sounds like something they only do when something is terribly wrong.

"We wanted to talk to you about something," she continued, smiling.

At this point, I have no idea how I didn't scream right into her face, "Oh my gosh! Just spit it out all ready! Tell me I've done some irreparable damage to my baby, so I can commence with the crying!"

Instead, I managed to eke out an "Oh, really?"

"Yes," she continued. "We've been reading some research recently about how women like you, who keep up a steady pattern of good exercise during their pregnancy, actually increase blood flow and oxygen to their placentas. Apparently, these women, like you, have really amazing placentas. Bright red and beautiful and just unbelievably healthy-looking. We're really excited about your birth because I just bet you're going to have one beautiful placenta."

My mouth uncontrollably flopped open.

"Wait. So you all want to examine placenta after my birth?" I finally managed to ask.

"Yep," the midwife said, beaming.

"Oh, OK. Sure. I'm sure it will be interesting," I consented.

After all, it's not like I'll need it anymore, I thought. And man, she just seemed so darn enthusiastic about it.

"Oh, that's great," she added. "So, now, don't you worry, honey. You are gonna have just one gorgeous placenta. I already know it."

Um, thanks?

***

I left their office laughing.

To date, this has been one of the funniest compliments anyone has ever paid me.

It ran a close second to another one of the midwives, who, when I was eight weeks along, was doing my initial pelvic exam, and, while her head was right smack between my spread-eagle legs, yelled up, "Oh, wow! You have the most beautiful, healthy-looking cervix."

It was all I could do not to laugh. Because how, exactly, do you respond to a compliment like that?

Oh, if I could only look back at my teenage self and tell her, "You may not be the prettiest girl in school, but never fear. You have one amazing looking set of reproductive organs!"

I never knew I should have been so proud of my lady parts.

***

The good news is, this gives us pregnant women yet another incentive to hit the gym while being in a not-so "delicate condition."

The perk to a healthier placenta, with plenty of oxygen and blood flow, is a healthier baby, the midwife explained.

Which means exercise isn't just about achieving your pre-pregnancy weight sooner after delivery. At least not anymore.

So consider this your public service announcement for the day; a little Workout Wednesday tip from me to you: Get out there and move it.

Do it for your placenta.

***

Happy Exercising, everybody!

Body Under Attack

I wanted to be pregnant.

To grow our family. To raise a baby up. To add more love into the world.

Blessedly, our wish came true: Here we are. Knocked up and happy about it.

Mostly.

Because, honestly, in the beginning, it was no picnic.

Things only started to look up once I could keep food down.

And then I began to feel her sweet movements, see my belly roll, and live for every kick and punch she delivered.

Pregnancy got fun.

Then I started getting big.

Not huge. Not abnormally large. In fact, last time I checked, I'm still measuring under the normal height, weight, and fundus measurements for a woman of my size who is six months pregnant.

But I'm definitely bigger than I've ever been before.

I have a baby belly, otherwise known as a gut. The smallest part of my pre-pregnancy body - my waist and tummy - no longer exist.

Naked, I strongly resemble some sort of pygmy - short, sturdy thighs and butt, topped by a pot belly.

I'm not loving it, to tell you the truth.

And these past few weeks, I've really been struggling with it.

I'd never take back what's been happening to my body - it's all worth it, I know - but some old demons have come screaming back as of late and haunting me when I least expect it.

I've been honest here before about the fact that I suffered in college in silence, and probably before, from body dysmorphia and slight exercise bulimia.

Age and time and marriage and a bunch of other small factors have helped me keep it at bay. For the most part, I did my best not to obsess and self-loathe the shape and weight of my body as an adult.

But now?

Now I've been taken out of the equation. My body is not my own anymore.

It's living and breathing to serve a papaya-sized baby who insists I eat every two hours otherwise I get incredibly light-headed and shaky.

It's forcing me to slow down with heavy doses of exhaustion and fatigue if I so as much as try to accomplish more than the average in one day.

It's leaving me creaky and sore and ever-widening. With absolutely nothing I can do about it.

Pregnancy makes you bigger. Plain and simple.

A fetus requires rest and nutrition. End of story.

And, though I'd do anything for this child, it's hard to swallow those simple facts of biology when I'm looking at the mirror, and I don't like what I see.

Honestly, I should have been prepped for this: I never imagined I'd be one of those women who would be "pretty pregnant."

I've got short, muscular limbs. The thin parts of my body have gotten big due to the growing baby. I'm not exactly all legs with a baby bump, a la Heidi Klum.

Honestly, I could never hope to be.

But as a trainer, it's hard to see.

It's hard to embrace the fact that I'm starting to look stocky, and I simply can't crunch and push and run my way back to where I want my body to be.

And thanks to what seems to be an ever-increasing fresh batch of pregnancy hormones, I'm not exactly rational about it, either.

I'm terrified to step on the scale tomorrow at the midwives' office. I fear I'll cry. Mostly because this time, I know I'm officially over my pre-pregnancy weight, having gained back the 20+ pounds I lost thanks to morning sickness.

Genetics aren't on my side; my family already has big babies. So the midwives watch my weight like a hawk. Even two pounds short of my pre-pregnancy weight, they warned me not to gain too much, too fast at the end of my second trimester and the beginning of my third.

Telling that to a woman who suffered from body dysmorphia is like lighting a match in a gas-filled room; it literally makes me crazy.

Even though the fact remains that I do everything right. I am one of the healthiest eaters I know - I've avoided processed sugars and carbs like the plague since getting pregnant. I exercise every day, doing more than most grown adults do not pregnant.

I'm not retaining water; I'm not bloated; I'm not diabetic. I have perfect blood pressure. And the baby I'm toting around is pronounced "perfect, couldn't be better" at every exam.

I'm simply pregnant. And really uncomfortable with the widening and the weight gain.

I feel silly typing this all out, especially because I would not trade this in for the world.

But I still find myself bargaining with God sometimes, asking Him to curb my insatiable hunger - seriously, since I'm rarely nauseous anymore, all I want to do is eat - and begging Him to allow me, hard science aside, not to gain weight.

It's maddening, how ridiculous I'm being.

I look at other pregnant women and marvel at how beautiful they are. At how amazing our bodies are, that we can grow and nurture a person inside us.

But I don't see the same things in myself.

I see my child inside me as beautiful.

But the body carrying her? Not so much.

***

This has been one of my least favorite things I've ever written.

Mostly because I don't even like myself for writing it.

But it's honest, and it's forthright. And it's how I'm feeling right now, crazy pregnancy hormones aside.

Life, pregnant, is not always all about shopping for maternity jeans and putting together a nursery. It's also about dealing with the minutiae of life, which is burden enough when you're lugging around some extra weight and tanking out your own self-esteem.

Pregnancy, right now, is not for the faint of heart.

Would I do it again? A thousand times, yes.

I haven't even met my daughter yet, but I know she's worth it. As will be all my other children.

I just wish, right now, in this very selfish, hormonal moment, that growing her was a little kinder to my own ego. And that the fear I associated a long time ago with weight gain, back when I was young and stupid and not nearly as loved as I am now, would go away.

Instead, I'm waiting. Holding on for 15 more weeks and hoping and praying that when this baby comes out, I'll forget all about this.

That I won't mind the fact that my hips are a little wider or my thighs are a little flabbier.

And that everything softened will become insignificant once I look into my daughter's eyes.

***

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

Workout Wednesday: What Not to Say to Your Pregnant Trainer

I get it, all right?

I get that I'm all kinds of awkward right now.

Me. My belly. The fact that my job requires me to wear tight-fitting athletic wear.

And the ever-loving fact that about 25-percent of the clients I train or teach are men.

More specifically, military men.

Marines. Sailors. Infantry.

You know the type: Men's men.

And now, thanks to my reproductive ways, they have some spandex-wearing pregnant lady yelling at them all the time.

It makes them a little uncomfortable.

While my female clients - military or not - were ecstatic when I finally told them all I was expecting a baby, most of my male clients all kind of stared at me.

Sure, some of my older, more seasoned ones - those with children themselves and plenty of experience from their pregnant wives - gave me their congratulations and best wishes.

But the rest? The young, awkward, child-less guys who like to stare at themselves while they pump iron in the gym mirror?

Well, they're the reason I get to have conversations like this every day....

***

Male Client: So, uh, I hear your pregnant, right?

Me: Oh, yes. The baby is due in June.

Male Client: Oh my gosh! So you're like really pregnant! Why didn't you tell us sooner?

Me: Well, I did tell people back in December, but I think you were working night shifts then. I'm sorry you're just now finding out. Boy, you must have been super confused. You must have thought I'd just gained some weight. Like I really started to let myself go or something. (insert joking laugh here)

Male Client: nothing...longest pause ever...then...a serious, silent nod.

Note to Men Everywhere: Never agree with a pregnant woman when she makes a joke about her baby weight.

***

Male Client: So, uh, are we gonna have time to get you to a hospital if you go into labor while running with us? Or are we gonna have to help you give birth right here?

***

Male Client: I've been looking for you all over. Why were you in the bathroom right up until spinning class starts?

Me: Because when I'm on the spin bikes, I'm hunched over. The baby pushes on my bladder. I have to pee. So I try and go right before I start class.

Male Client: Oh, that's gross!

Me: Oh, you're right. Next time I'll just pee all over myself while spinning. Because that's less disgusting.

***

Male Client: Is your belly going to get so big that you won't fit on the spin bike anymore?

Me: I seriously doubt that, but never fear, I'll still be able to yell at you all during class, even if I have to stand on the ground.

Male Client: Oh, OK. Because seriously, if your belly gets too big, I'm afraid you might tip the bike right over. That would just be wrong. (insert a shudder of disgust)

***

Seriously, people, I'm not making this stuff up. It's become so odd, I'm not even sure how to respond anymore.

I mean, they're men. They obviously don't get it.

And at 5 a.m., when I'm working with them, I'm in no mood to educate them on pregnancy and the mechanics of the female body.

Though I may just have to use the potential of my water breaking at any! given! moment! as a threat when they seem to be wimping out on their last set of sprints.

Perhaps there's advantages to this pregnancy....

***

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

Workout Wednesday: Things No One Tells You About (Pre-Natal) Yoga

I've been working in the fitness industry for years, but never - not once - have I considered teaching yoga.

I teach over 20 group fitness formats, and I'm a personal trainer.

But being a yoga instructor? Not on my radar.

It's not that I don't like yoga; I do. I've practiced it off and on for years.

It's just that, personality-wise, it's not a good match for me.

I'm too intense. The calm-ness and patience exuded by yoga instructors I severely lack.

I yell at my clients. Daily. Encouraging them, of course. But peaceful, soothing phrases rarely leave my mouth. I'm loud and bossy.

I'm just too boisterous to teach yoga.

Still, as I said, I do yoga. I physiologically understand the benefits behind deep stretching, myofacial release, and inner muscular strength that come from the practice of yoga.

If I could leave all the mantras and mumbo-jumbo behind, I would. I'm simply in it for what it does to my body.

Which is why I acquiesced, forked over some money recently, and signed me and my unborn child up for some pre-natal yoga.

With all the stretching and pulling I'm feeling, not to mention the consistent (and new) back and hip pain that I'm currently wracked with, I knew I needed some professional stretching help.

So with another pregnant friend in tow, I traipsed on off to my first class last week, bound and determined to get as much out of it as I could for me and Baby.

Here I am, 19 weeks pregnant, boasting a belly that currently looks like it may be Baby or just a few too many tacos. I'm dressed and ready to get my yoga on, so I wanted to capture the moment. But my husband lost patience with me and my incessant need to photograph the Baby and/or Taco Belly. Hence the reason I have no forehead.

And, all in all, it was glorious. I did get a lot out of it. But I also found myself giggling (inwardly, of course) at times.

Because instead of a room full of pregnant, peaceful, happily glowing mamas-to-be, I instead found myself surrounded by grunting, stumbling, farting females, who all happened to boast bellies in various states of round-ness.

Which is why, today, I feel compelled to tell you about all the Things No One Tells You About Pre-natal Yoga...

1. Consider wearing a gas mask

Let's just be honest: Pregnant women and teenage boys are in a class all their own when it comes to high-octane flatulence.

It's a natural bodily function, after all. And we with child seem to specialize in it.

Problem is, yoga is also known for easing constipation and increasing digestive health. In other words, helping clear out your system.

This, in turn, results in gas.

So picture, if you will, four pregnant women, butt up, holding downward-facing dog. One of them, i.e., me, is trying with all her might not to embarrass herself by letting one, er, go.

Until her neighbor, unashamedly or uncontrollably, the world may never know, toots. Loudly.

As does the woman across the room, too.

Pretty soon, it's a virtual trumpet quartet around those parts. Ahhh, the siren song of pre-natal yoga.

2. Relaxation is relative

During our hour-and-a-half class, we probably witnessed more than 10 hurried bathroom trips. With babies rapidly pressing on bladders, women were running right and left, dropping out of Warrior 2, to hit the potty.

Then, no sooner had everyone's bladder been emptied and calm had been restored, when one of the more pregnant among us, sedately holding tree pose, would lose her balance, and tumble over into her neighbor (read: me) whose own balance is waning these days. Which then forced said neighbor (again: me) to perform some sort of kung-fu kick to avoid toppling over into her neighbor.

At any second, we were like a precarious design of dominoes, ready to fall over one after the other.

While it made the class more exciting, at no point did I feel brave enough to close my eyes and concentrate.

3. Pregnancy hormones wave wild and free

Blessedly, our pre-natal yoga instructor also happens to be a massage therapist. And so, as we stretched and moved and held various poses, she'd move among us and work on certain parts of our body that seemed to be aching.

When she started to press on my lower back and work on my aching hips, and I felt some of the first sweet relief I'd felt in days, I swear, I teared up. I almost fell out of triangle pose and hugged her, right there on the spot. I was just so overcome with the fact that someone had helped me that I seriously debated naming this unborn child after her.

Not that it was all gumdrops and roses. My friend, who struggled with one particular pose thanks to her pair of tight hamstrings, said she experienced pregnancy hormones at their worst halfway through our class. She actually had to talk herself down from a mini-panic attack, because, as she said, all she could think was "Oh my gosh! What if I'm unable to push this baby out because I have these tight hamstrings!"

And this, my friends, is a normal, rational, adult woman who is perfectly capable of doing anything she sets her mind to.

But, like the best of us, her pregnancy hormones had made her temporarily insane. Not that anyone noticed, as they were too busy staring at me, the Crying Pregnant Yogi.

4. Forget "Om;" it's more like "Ouch!"

I went into my first forward fold of the class, awaiting that blissful feeling of lengthening in the back of my legs and the release through my spine.

But instead, all I felt was my own organs pressing - hard - up and into my diaphragm.

I let out an "Oof!" without even thinking about it.

Not that my classmates were to be outdone.

Because throughout the rest of the class, we heard a regular chorus of "Ow!," "Oh, dear!," "Ouch!," and, the best phrase of all (muttered by a woman who was 36 weeks pregnant), "Would you stop sticking your foot in my ribs in there, please?"

If you haven't seen a woman hold plank position while poking herself in the big, round belly, you haven't lived.

***

Honest to goodness, I adored my first pre-natal yoga class. I intend on going up until I give birth. It was a great way to work on some muscle pain, prepare my body for labor, and mingle with other pregnant women.

But, all in all, it was undeniably funny. Because just because we're supposed to be blissfully meditating on our flexibility does not mean our pregnancy symptoms go away.

Still, I think the incessant pee-ing, the increased flatulence, the raging hormones, and the inability to stand up without falling over, keeps it exciting.

It's just a little more fun that way.

***

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

Workout Wednesday: Exercise in Your Second Trimester

I have to tell you, by the end of last week, I was singing the praises of the ever-wonderful second trimester.

While I was a little late to the party (I've been in my second trimester for almost a month) I'm finally reaping the benefits of higher energy levels, less nausea, and much steadier emotions.

If this is pregnancy, I'll have 19 children. Easy.

As long as I can skip the cursed first trimester.

Still, as I approach Week 18 of my pregnancy, I notice how different my body is. It's reacting to food and movement differently. And though my baby belly is not all that noticeable, my posture has already started to change.

It's becoming more obvious all of the work my body is doing to grow this kid.

And so, yet again, exercise has changed for me.

In the second trimester, I've noticed a whole new set of perks and, also, complications, when it comes to exercise, gym use, and working out.

So, today, we're discussing Five Tips for Exercise During Your Second Trimester.

1. Evaluate your pain honestly

I have a very high tolerance for pain. I joke that my arm could be dangling by a tendon, and I'd avoid going to the doctor at all costs.

But even I get alarmed when I experience a stab, cramp, or twinge I'm not used to.

So, when I was awakened at 4 a.m. by a stabbing pain in between my right hip and lower abdomen, I got worried. It was intense and odd, and though I could get it to lessen, I could not get it to go away.

I had my suspicions, and my midwife confirmed them, that I was experiencing round ligament pain, when your ligaments attached your to uterus grow and stretch. While not unbearable, it wasn't fun.

Which is why, out of sheer luck, I was thrilled when I found a pain reducer: Exercise.

I had to teach a 5 a.m. cycling class, and no sooner had I hopped on a bike did the ache fade away.

I was thrilled. Where exercise can exacerbate some pregnancy pain, in this case, it helped.

Which just goes to show you how important exercise is during your second trimester. It will help you handle pain and build muscle that helps support your spine and uterus, meaning you'll experience even less pain later on, during your third trimester and delivery.

Still, certain pains shouldn't be ignored and "worked through." Back pain and knee pain are at a higher frequency during pregnancy, especially if you've started to gain weight and sprout a real baby belly soon. Make sure you modify exercises so as not to strain those areas of your body that are sensitive. Ask your health practitioner for tips.

2. Be careful of your body temperature

On Monday, I bundled up to go workout. It was cold outside. Which is why some idiot at the gym had the heat blaring at 80 degrees.

I didn't realize how hot it was till I was halfway through my workout with my clients. And I'd already stripped down to pants and a T-shirt, and considering I was on the clock, I was not about to go any lower.

I noticed, subtly, that I was getting dizzy. I blamed it on the baby, who is growing so much that he/she is currently taxing my circulatory system.

I sat down and tried to walk it off.

But it only got worse.

The room started spinning, and I started losing my vision. I was sweating bullets.

And then, without even telling my clients what was up, I ran into the bathroom and threw up for the first time in almost a week.

I'd clearly gotten over-heated, and, thanks to my crazy circulatory system, I'd vomited and almost passed out.

Even in the first trimester, with my constant morning sickness, I'd never experienced that.

Granted, part of it wasn't my fault. Some ridiculous director had pumped the heat up to 80 degrees - which is too warm at any time of the year for gyms, most of which keep their facilities in the high 60s.

But still, I should have been wearing less clothes. Self-consciousness be darned, the next time I went to the gym, I made sure I was wearing a tank-top, and I let the baby belly fly. It's better than overheating.

Now, I also make sure that, if I start to feel super sweaty or warm, I back off. I try and keep my heart rate around 140 or 150. This means keeping my movements moderate, which is hard to do when you're used to pushing it all out, all the time, but it's a necessity considering the other life my body is currently supporting.

3. Hydration and nutrition are even more important now

Part of the reason I overheated in the scenario above was that I was slightly dehydrated and hungry.

During your second trimester, nutrition becomes even more important. I, for one, am starving, sometimes only an hour after eating a meal. And if I go too long without eating, my blood sugar drops suddenly, leaving me dizzy, nauseous, sweating, and unable to focus.

The same thing can happen when I'm dehydrated. Which is why I never leave home without food or water. And I try to keep fruit with me, too, as it can be used to boost your blood sugar and fulfill that sweet craving without unhealthy results.

For me, this has been the hardest part of being pregnant. I'm used to eating infrequently and in moderation, and even though I've lost weight during my pregnancy, I still have guilt when I find myself indulging a ravenous craving a mere hour after lunch or dinner.

But I try and remind myself that, if I'm hungry, it's the baby doing the talking, and I need to feed him/her. As long as I'm making healthy choices, my weight should be fine.

And if I want to safely exercise during my second trimester, I have to fuel my body properly with food and plenty of water.

4. Watch your breathing

Because I've been a trainer and instructor for years, I can talk and sprint at the same time. It's an acquired skill.

Even during my first trimester, I could do it.

But recently, I've found myself gasping for breath when I'm spinning or jogging. Pushing it hard during intense workouts leaves me totally winded.

But again, my body is building baby cells and circulating blood quicker than it ever has before. Plus, my enlarging uterus is pressing on my abdomen in all sorts of weird ways.

Bending over is getting harder, and changing directions quickly can leave me all sorts of woozy.

I've recently found myself backing off in those moments when I find I'm breathing heavily.

And that's OK.

You want to make sure your baby is getting blood and oxygen, and if you're gasping for breath, chances are, your heart rate is too high.

5. Kind pregnant-specific instruction

I've started taking a pre-natal yoga class.

I had to, in fact.

I was struggling to comfortably do my own yoga and strength training with my growing belly, plus I wanted to find exercises that would help induce health in my baby and prepare my body for labor.

So, being that I'm a trainer who's comfortable training everyone but herself, I decided I needed some outside help.

And, by the second trimester, I recommend this to everybody.

Get a pregnancy workout DVD; find a pregnant class at your gym or hospital. Google it. You'll be surprised at what's available in your area.

It's a great way to exercise in a safe and effective manner, while also meeting other mamas-to-be.

***

For those of you that missed it, here's my tips for exercising during your first trimester.

FYI: I think I'm going to start posting Workout Wednesdays on every other Wednesday of the month. I don't want to belabor these points too much, but I still want to answer all the questions I'm sent, which I'm still working my way through. Still, feel free to post ideas and questions below if you have them. Though it may be a little less frequent, I'm not giving up on Workout Wednesday just yet.

***

Happy Exercising, everyone!

Workout Wednesday: How Not to Tick Off Your Trainer

I think the last gym I worked at spoiled me.

I had amazing clients.

They liked me. They did what I said. They listened earnestly. They tried hard.

Women and men. Young and old. Large and small.

My clients were awesome.

And then I came here.

And I took a job that, for all intents and purposes, seemed like a dream job.

I work for the military in their recreation program. I train active duty members and their spouses. More specifically, I work with women who have recently had children, who have weight-loss goals, especially those striving to get their pre-baby bodies back post-partum.*

It has "me" written all over it.

On the surface, it seemed like the perfect job.

And, then, the whining started. And continued. And, in fact, got worse.

And worse and worse and worse.

My clients are driving me crazy.

I used to teach high school, for heavens sake. I have a very long train of patience. I've heard everything. I can tune out whines and excuses like it is my job. Because it was my job.

But these women.

THESE WOMEN.

I'm finding myself fighting back screams lately. I'm struggling to be professional. I'm yearning to tell them what I really think of them.

It's all enough to make me wonder if, indeed, etiquette is really dead. If, in fact, I'm witnessing just a small sample of the degradation of manners and work ethic in our society.

If, underneath it all, all those nasty rumors about women are true.**

Which is why, today, I think we need another lesson in gym manners, partially because I need to vent and partially because I refuse to watch public decency go town the toilet, even at our local gyms.

I know, I know. I'm dramatic. But I'm irked.

So, I give you, Four Ways Not to Tick Off Your Trainer.

1. Stop Whining Before I Sit On You

Seriously, this one gets me. Really gets me.

If you are there of your own accord, for the love of all things holy, stop the whining.

And I'm not talking about the occasional woman who, in jest, says, "Argh! You're killing me, lady!" That's funny. That I can handle.

But when you show up for a small group class in which we run for at least 30 minutes, like we have for the last six months, do not complain to me, or, better yet, refuse to do it because you "don't feel like it."

You're being lame, and I'm going to call you out on it. (Especially since I got out of bed, vomiting and pregnant, to run with you. If I can do it, you can do it.)

My ban on whining extends into the whole "pass the buck" trend, in fitness, too.

For instance, if you don't want to be there, don't blame the weather. Unless it's actively snowing or lightening and thundering outside, you can exercise. We live in the South. It's sunny. You're not in danger of passing out from heat stroke, which is a far greater issue down here below the Mason-Dixon line than 35-degree weather. (Those of you already experiencing blizzard-like temperatures? You all may have a legitimate excuse. However, I know several trainers all over the country who exercise - outdoors - with their clients in the snow. It can be done. That's all I'm saying.)

Second of all, don't blame me for "making you be here." You choose to spend your morning with me. I'm here to make you exercise, not sit down and hold your hand while you sip coffee on a yoga mat until you start to "feel" like exercising.

Buck up, ladies!

Lastly, please don't act like I'm being cruel and inhumane, huffing and puffing and stalking around, if I ask you do something us gross and unjust as a push-up - gasp! - or more than one set of sit-ups - egads!

It's my job. If you don't like it, don't hire a trainer.

2. I Am Not Your Hair-Dresser

Yesterday alone, I heard about a client's nasty divorce, a child who refused to be potty-trained, an issue with playgroup moms being catty, and a husband who refuses to acknowledge that they're having money problems.

This is all well and good.

I spend hours a week with these women. I don't mind listening.

But when you expect to come to the gym, confide in me, and then not work out? You're in serious trouble, my friend.

I'm not a therapist. I'm simply a trainer. So feel free to talk all you want, as long as you're gasping out words between lunges, squats, and crunches. Otherwise, save the gossip for the salon.

You're not paying me to sit down and listen to you. Spilling your guts is not an excuse to get out of exercising.

3. I'm Not a Miracle-Worker; That's God You're Interested In

I am a human being.

I can tell you what to do to get the most bang for your buck, but it is up to you to listen to me. I'm not above yelling at you a little, if that helps motivate you, but I draw the line at walking over and forcing you down into a squat position.

So, if you sit there and obstinately refuse to finish the last five repetitions I assigned you, then it's not my fault that you can't shake those last three pounds. Don't come crying to me the next time you step on a scale.

You have to make the ultimate choice to listen to me or not. It's no skin off my back should you choose to disregard my advice.

Ignoring me is only hurting yourself. (And, in my client's case, wasting government money, as my small-group clients use my services for free. I'm paid by the military, not by each individual client. And yet, they complain ad nauseum!)

4. The Gym is Not a Sorority House

I don't play favorites. All my clients are my clients, and I pretty much treat them equally.

That being said, what is it about women that requires them to form cliques in every available outlet they enter?

This woman won't hang out with that woman; this girl gets mad if her best friend can't make a training session and sulks the whole hour.

I even have one client who refuses to talk to anyone save her close friend and myself, and, should some new mother come to small-group training and try to strike up a friendly conversation or small talk, said Ice Queen will turn her back and roll her eyes, as if she doesn't deem talk to "the new girl."

It's infuriating.

I actually lost a client because I refused to kick out another client who she'd had a fight with.

And these are grown women. With children. And husbands. And, for the most part, successful lives.

But I swear, they are no different than my old high-school students. In some ways, they're worse.

So, do your trainer a favor next time you're at the gym. Be nice to everyone around you, even if they aren't your favorite people. Heck, even if they smell like old socks, smile kindly at them. Tell them what they're in store for.

The gym is not your personal sorority house. We're not here for girl time; we're here to exercise.

***

Thank you for reading all that. I feel much better now.

On Monday, I was literally seconds away from strangling two of my clients. And I've never laid a hand on anyone in my life.

So, if you have a trainer who you see day in and day out, keep in mind that not every client is as peachy-keen as you. And, if you can, take it easy on them. Keep the complaining and whining to a minimum. And remember, we're there to help you.

But we are human beings. With working ear drums. Your words hurt. And drive us slightly insane, sometimes.

So be kind to your trainer and those around you.

Because, trust me, you don't want to make enemies out of us.

We're the ones who dole out the push-ups.

***

*Honest to goodness, I love my job. And about 40 percent of my clients are perfectly sweet, wonderful people who I genuinely adore. But the other half have made my life miserable since about July. I have accommodated them and helped them and done everything I can to make them succeed, and it's never good enough. And they could care less that they're inconveniencing tons of people with their behaviors, too, which is the worst part about it.

**As a military wife myself, I hate when those among us become catty, eating their own. I'd heard this about the military spouse community before I joined, and largely, I've found it to be false. I have close, dear, sweet, wonderful friends I've met here. But some of my clients prove that the stereotype, to some extent, can be based in fact. And, therefore, I get especially irritated, as I'm not so sure I want to even be associated with their rude, exclusive behavior.

Note: Those of you who have left me pregnancy and post-partum workout questions, never fear! Your answers are coming! I will continue to talk about pregnancy, exercise, and recovering your body post-baby next Wednesday!

Happy Exercising, everyone!

Workout Wednesday: Working Out With Your Fetus

It's no secret.

As a trainer, my specialty is women.

Specifically, women looking for weight-loss post-partum.

I spend several hours working with small groups of these clients daily. I'm very passionate about it, and, for the most part, I find it very fulfilling.

In fact, a little selfish part of me is excited to have this baby and get back to the gym, working out the way I train others to do. I want to know what it's like.

For, as much as I enjoy what I do, I've never felt what it feels like to do it. To work out after giving birth to a teeny baby that doesn't feel so little when you're actively pushing it out of your body, often wearing and tearing at your tailbone, abdominal muscles and hip flexors in the process.

Still, that's a long ways off.

And, now, I'm having to deal with something I hadn't even considered when we started down this whole baby train.

Exercise during the first trimester.

Oh, heavens, my friends.

Never before have I lost the will to get up and off the couch as much as I have during these past few months.

I now understand why people never work out.

More specifically, pregnant people.

Because growing this kid is exhausting enough without thinking about adding in several miles of running and several pounds of weight-lifting.

Phew.

Still, I have to exercise.

It's my job.

I teach 11 classes a week. I have private clients. Sometimes, I enjoy working out on my own, too.

Yesterday alone, I walked/jogged eight miles with clients.

Eight miles after I'd puked up breakfast, lunch and dinner the day before.

At work these days, I sometimes feel like I'm living on a prayer.

But, at the same time, I've never felt tougher. I'm growing a baby, while exercising - hard - every day. Every time some male Marine gets all whiny on me during a cycling class, I can now simply point at my stomach and yell, "If I can do this, you can do this."

The thing is, though, some days, I can barely do it. I've had to make adjustments. Life in the first trimester is not normal, no matter what all those pregnancy books are saying.

So exercise, too, has to change.

Which is why I've had to learn (and want to share with you)...

Five Tips for Exercising During Your First Trimester

1. Swap out sessions for sleep

The truth is, I'm not working out like I used to. I've lost the ability, for instance, to do almost all my strength-training sessions.

Occasionally, I fit in an upper-body workout or some pre-natal yoga, but that's it. And those that know me, you know what a change that is. I love working with resistance. It's my favorite way to get in shape.

But gone are the days of heavier sculpting and lifting. At least for now.

Instead, during the times I'd normally be weight-training, I'm sleeping. Pregnancy fatigue is real, and to keep from feeling sicker than I already feel, I can't quite go at it as much as I'd like.

So, instead, I nap. Or I go to bed earlier than normal.

It doesn't make us lazy or out-of-shape. It's necessity.

Your body is taxed while it's growing a baby, and if you're craving sleep, you need it. So take it. Even if that means one less session at the gym a week.

Lastly, after a workout, if you don't have time for a nap, lay down on your left side for 20 minutes. It helps restore your regular heart-rate and improves circulation to the baby, re-invigorating you after a workout.

2. Don't drink too much

Chugging liquids is the best way to aggravate morning sickness. Trust me on this.

While staying hydrated is important for everyone, especially pregnant women, too much water too fast is not good, especially on a fairly empty stomach - something that always happens to me, as food and I are not fast friends right now.

Instead, up to 90 minutes before a workout, start sipping water, diluted fruit juice, or safe herbal teas.

Throughout the workout, continue with the intermittent sipping. Exercise will increase the sloshing in your belly, especially if it's filled with liquid, and that will make you nauseous. (I've still yet to keep liquids down after a cardio workout for this very reason.)

Then, after the workout, do the same thing: Little bits of liquid over a long period of time. They'll keep you hydrated without shocking your tummy.

3. Listen to your body

My midwives are very pro-exercise. They banned me from nothing after checking the strength of my uterus, etc.

Many low-risk women with well-rounded, holistic physicians will hear the same thing: Do what you can, as long as you don't over-do it.

But that doesn't mean you should "push through the pain," like you might if you weren't pregnant.

When something feels bad, I don't do it. Simple as that. Abdominal exercises, for example, make me sick. Deep squats tax my hips. So, I don't do them.

Once I have this baby, there will be plenty of time to push myself through that resistance. But for now, I'm listening to my body, just in case certain movements take away from my sole purpose right now - to grow a healthy child.

This is the exact reason you shouldn't start an exercise regime pregnant if you didn't have one before pregnancy. You need to be in tune with your body before pregnancy so you can listen to it while pregnant.

4. Keep some semblance of a routine

Women with active lifestyles report lower pain during pregnancy, labor, and delivery. They are stronger and tougher in natural labor. They have lower rates of gestational diabetes, swelling, and third-trimester complications.

In addition, they lose their pregnancy weight faster and easier than other woman who do not exercise during all three trimesters.

Even in the first trimester, they tend to report less water retention and morning sickness.

And, I have to say, it's true.

Granted, I'm a grade-A puker right now, but it could be worse. It could be a lot worse. And, when I'm exercising, I actually experience some of my lowest levels of nausea and pain all day.

As long as you watch your heart-rate (below one 140 or 150 bpms is recommended by most physicians), a basic exercise routine is better for you and for baby.

Ask any woman who exercised during pregnancy, and she'll agree.

For instance, my favorite client ran three miles every day of her pregnancy, save her delivery day. She had a short, easy labor and a healthy baby boy. Her son is less than two years old, and she's in better shape than any other woman I know. She's done several marathons and triathlons since his birth, plus she bikes 15 miles to and from work every day.

Her advice to all pregnant women?

"Get out and move every day. Even if you're slowly moving, you're moving. That's what counts."

5. Eat and dress for nausea

Try and get something small in your stomach before a workout, preferably a carbohydrate. My secret? An oatmeal cookie. It has some fiber and some grains. It lacks protein, but right now, my first-trimester tummy can't handle much protein. So while it's not my healthiest option, it works. It feeds me through my workout and helps fight the nausea, and, right now, that's all I care about.

Plus, on a bad day, should it come back up, it's better to throw that up then dry heave.

Trust me.

In addition, I avoid wearing tight pants while exercising. As silly as it seems, the pressure on my non-existent baby belly is nauseating. Plus, I don't want anything cutting into my circulation while I work out.

I also wear motion-sickness bands during exercise, as I'm prone to nausea during jostling. (Heck, I get car sick pregnant.) If you're prone to motion sickness, I highly recommend them.

Basically, your goal is to find out what little tricks work for you when it comes to food and workout wear. If they keep you at the gym and relatively "un-sick," then they are worthy enough to incorporate into your routine. (And share them below, please! Others can learn from your wisdom!)

***

FYI: If you are a high-risk woman, the exercise situation is going to look drastically different for you. Consult your physician before making any physical commitments or decisions.

As always, please feel free to post any questions below.

Thanks for reading, and Happy Exercising!