Before having Isabella, I used to run.

A lot.

I did 5 miles at a time, 6 days a week. I ran 30 miles each week in rain, sleet, snow, and blazing heat, and I not only loved each and every minute of it, but I was in the best shape of my life. I set a goal to train for a half-marathon.

And then I paid a fortune for the chance to get pregnant. I quit running before beginning the hormone shots of my IVF cycle. Even though running is perfectly safe during pregnancy. Even though continuing with most exercise programs is considered healthy and even advantageous to an easier pregnancy and recovery. I quit. I would not chance a fall or an injury. I had struggled with infertility too long.

After Isabella was born, I was able to start running again after my six-week postpartum checkup. I was working full-time from home, but I still had the time to run on the treadmill during her naps and outside on the weekend when the hubs was home. I averaged about 20-25 miles a week then.

Just before I started the FET cycle that resulted in Luci and Nico, I quit running again. And once they were born and my entire universe was flipped on its ass with six months of colic, three-to-four hours of sleep a night, and freelance work that I did during the 10 minutes a day that they weren't screaming or needing to be nursed, I ran when I could. That amounted to about 10 miles a week or less. I wasn't happy.

And then it was October, and we were moving. I was in the beginning months of my online teaching gig, which when combined with my freelance projects was a lot of work squeezed into a day that really needed to be 36 hours instead of 24.

I stopped running.

I couldn't find a way to incorporate something I loved so much into my life anymore. Three kids under the age of 3.5. Freelance work. No childcare. Laundry. Meals. Sleep. And hazardous winter running conditions. Are these excuses? Maybe. But could I see a way to get my running back? At the time, no.

In January, I was complaining (shocking, I know) to rockstar runner Sasha about how I wanted to start running again and somehow find a way to train for a half-marathon. I told her about my longtime desire to join this health club (which is more like a resort and a country club than a gym, and whose membership I wouldn't be able to afford) located five minutes from my house, because they have childcare facilities and I could run there. And at her urging, I pitched them some social media work (a blog and a Facebook page) in exchange for a membership.

Guess what? They liked the idea. And gave me a family membership in exchange for my work.

The healthy lifestyle blog, which is currently being designed by Ms. Mad Design Skillz herself, Ness, goes live in less than two weeks. I hope you'll stop by and check it out (I'll post the link when the blog is ready.) I could certainly use your support to bolster interest in the blog.

And I am running again. At the club and outside (when I have someone to watch the kids). I am averaging about 18-20 miles a week now. I started out so slowly (as in, 10-minute-mile slow), but just this past week, I rocked a five-miler at a 9:20 pace. I am improving. Training starts next month.

And damn, if I don't feel ALIVE again when I'm running. It is me, the road (or the treadmill), my ancient iPod shuffle rocking this and this and this (hello lyrics of my life), and this feeling of complete and utter exhilaration. There is no screaming on my runs. No "mommy. Hey, Mommy? MOMMY!" No diapers, no demands, no drama. Suddenly, I feel like me again. It's been a long time.

On Sunday, September 12th, you'll find me running this half-marathon. My goal is sub 2hr.

Or not dying while running 13.1 miles in what can be a very hot month in my city.

That's a good goal too.