If pelvic floor control was an Olympic sport, then I’d be in line for a gold at the 2012 London games.
Despite all other forms of exercise being sporadic at best, my mission to regain control of these darn muscles since giving birth, has been relentless. And I am very pleased to say, that I have pretty much won the battle. But, on cold days like today, it is still a feat of endurance and there is more than a little mind over matter at play.
Cold weather = cold muscles and cold muscles don’t work nearly as well as warmed up muscles. I’ve just walked for 25 minutes, pushing the tinkerous toddler in her stroller. I really should have gone to the loo before I left, not least because I’d had a large cuppa. But, I didn’t. Instead, I ran the pelvic floor gauntlet and I made it home – cue Usaine Bolt salute and bucket loads (hmm, maybe not the best turn of phrase given the topic) of self-apprecation.
I did almost fall at the last hurdle, by being tempted to bend over and help the tinkerous toddler off with her coat, but as I went in for the bend, I realised that the coat and the toddler would have to wait.
As I finally sat down and the warm glow of relief spread through my body, I felt that another pelvic floor milestone had been achieved. Usaine Bolt, eat yer heart out. Olympic Gold may well be yours at the 2012 games. But I, my friend, I have dry knickers!
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