I'm supposed to be running a 10K this morning. It was my big goal before I turn 30. As it turned out, my joints just really aren't what they used to be. I could pay out of pocket for a podiatrist who might be able to fix things or I could just stop running so much and spend more time with my family. In reality, I can do the distance (slowly), so it was just a question of pride and bragging rights, neither of which are noble reasons for accomplishing anything. My husband is convinced I will be in a wheel chair in a few more years if I continue running because of the way I hobble out of bed in the morning.
More than all this I just wanted to prove I was as fit as I was prior to baby #2. But I'm not. I'm really just not. My arms are stronger for having carried my son, but maybe that's the only improvement. Maybe someday, when my son decides co-sleeping isn't for him, when I can stop eating the kid's leftovers, and when I can concentrate enough to remember to care as much as I used to about fitness I'll be back there. But it isn't going to happen in the next two weeks.
Things aren't really so bad. But they aren't what they used to be. So I can either accept that or do something about it.
I'm still on the fence. :)