When I was pregnant for the first time at age 30, my doctor called me an “elderly primigravida”. It is an outdated term referring to a woman over the age of 35 who is pregnant for the first time. But, really? Calling anyone in his or her 30’s elderly is absurd, don’t you think? It makes me wonder if there is a term for a woman running her first half-marathon at age 60.
If not, there should be. How about sublime senior? Or, better yet, geezer goddess?
30 years before I took on a 13.1 mile run, I was engulfed in my first pregnancy. On my first long training run, I realized that everything I know about running I learned from being pregnant.
In both situations, I found out how important it was to eat right, wear sensible shoes and get plenty of sleep. Aches and pains seemed to emerge from nowhere.
Both were enhanced by drinking plenty of liquids, and knowing that discomfort is part of the process.
Accomplishment accompanied completion. With my pregnancy, I welcomed a red-faced screaming baby boy into the world (accompanied by my own otherworldly screams each time I felt a contraction). Two and one-half hours after starting my 13.1 mile run, I myself was red-faced and screaming.
Both required challenge and focus. And, my husband was there both times, supporting me and cheering me on. (One difference: I wasn’t cursing him when I finished my half-marathon).
I pushed my body beyond reason and wondered if I would ever recognize myself again.
The irony is that I completed my first half-marathon with my daughter-in-law, married to the red-faced screamer who emerged 30 years ago.
Could I have been more elderly 30 years ago than I am today?
Geezer goddesses rule!