A couple of days ago, I decided that the cold I had been nursing wasn’t going to kill me. With that in mind, the husband and I went on one and a half hikes: one to Taguan Point and half of one to the Anao overlook.
The Taguan Point hike is also known as One Thousand Steps (Ten Thousand Steps? or something). It’s actually more like 257 according to The Best Tracks on Guam, but I didn’t count to verify. My postpartum body thought it was closer to ten thousand; every step on the way back up, those steep stairs taunted me.
Remember every day you skipped that prenatal pilates? In favor of white chocolate? Aren’t you regretting it now? Tee hee hee.
About two-thirds of the way up, I was gasping for air and responding in angry grunts to everything the husband said. “Are you going to die?”
“Look at this cool lizard!”
“The roots of that tree are all twisty!”
I am dying, and the tree is all you care about?
I think if he had told me that we won a million dollars, that the sun was falling from the sky, or that a bloodthirsty wild boar was barreling up the steps after me, I would have responded in much the same way.
You gain a lot of perspective once you catch your breath, thankfully. It was a beautiful short hike. There were some pretty cool twisty tree roots. And lizards. And clear blue waters beating against the sharp limestone coast.
The Anao hike became just half a hike because we realized the sun would set long before we’d be able to make it down the cliff and back up again. We parked in a sketchy-looking neighborhood next to a nice-looking house bordered by a yard with a couple dozen beautiful, feisty-looking roosters that were obviously being raised for less-than-admirable purposes (I’ll save my Guam-cock-fighting-post for another time). Then we trekked about twenty minutes over a beer-can-studded trail to a beautiful overlook of the eastern side of the island.
This trail was blissfully flat (at least the half we traversed was), and it involved no gutteral sounds or feelings of hopelessness and despair. This was refreshing. Also, the view. This is a bad iPhone picture, but there’s just so. much. blue.
Over the past week, I’ve been trying to make up for all that prenatal pilates I missed. Those who have experienced stillbirth or late miscarriage know–and I’m learning–that one of the most haunting aftereffects is having a postpartum body and no baby to legitimize it. It’s also a reminder that my apathy toward any kind of legit exercise while I was pregnant was not a good choice.
A friend recommended Blogilates, so I decided to give it a try. So far, the POP Pilates guru, Cassey Ho, is perky enough to keep me interested without being terribly irritating. This sets her a mile apart from many other workout instructors whose classes I’ve attended or watched. And she’s such a prolific You Tube-r that you could probably do a different POP Pilates video each day for a year without repeating any.
I can deal with that for now–pilates, rest, and stockpiling as much Guam sunshine as I can for future cold New England days.