You have GOT to be Kidding Me

Or, "Why Speedwork isn't Always Your Friend."

Ladies who have been pregnant (and male counterparts of ladies who have been pregnant, and friends of ladies who have been pregnant, and people who have read about pregnancy) know that making it through 40 weeks of pregnancy without stretch marks is something to brag about. But not something to brag about **too** loudly, lest you become one of "those women."

I am was one of those women. My body is far from perfect, but I've been spared the stretch marks. According to "The Experts," I can thank my ancestors for good skin elasticity genes.

So I've been doing these speedwork exercises as part of the "Run Less, Run Faster" program that I'm following (I'm sure that will be its own post later on), and, as "speedwork" would imply, there's a lot of short distance sprinting at a pace much faster that I'm used to. Sprinting uses and builds muscles differently from running longer distances at a slower pace, so I've suddenly got some nice upper leg muscles going on. Based on this random leg muscle diagram, it appears to be my Tensor Fasciae Latae and my Rectus Femoris that are benefiting most (or maybe not, I'm not an anatomy and physiology expert. whatever happened to quads and hamstrings?).



Great, huh? Well, yes, until I spotted a small web of stretch marks a few inches below my hipbone, right on the spot where that "Tensor Fasciae Latae" supposedly is.

WTF? Exercising is supposed to make you look better, not give you stretchmarks!

Baby Got Back

I'm oddly shaped. Always have been, always will be. Most people look at me and consider me to be on the slender side. Skinny, even. But I've got a big secret, that I'm somewhat good at hiding - I pack a whole lotta junk in my trunk. I usually wear a size small on top and a size large on the bottom. That's right, size L-A-R-G-E undies grace my tush. As Sir Mix-A-Lot would say, I'm "Little in the middle but I got much back."

I used to obsess over hiding it. Not going to lie, sometimes it still annoys me when I can't fit cute pants over my ample derriere, and I'm still not a huge fan of the "cottage-cheese jello look" or the fact that my butt keeps shaking long after the rest of me has stopped moving, but I'm trying to learn to embrace it. I mean, really - my legs carried me over the finish line of a freaking marathon, and my hips are just a battle scar of motherhood.



Shake that healthy butt!