By that, I mean that I've sat in the shallow end of the kids pool next to the lifesize plastic alligator/crocodile while E runs around splashing.
I've not actually done any swimming.
Come to think of it, I've not really participated in formal exercise since I found out I was expecting. In 2011. I've walked a hell of a long way - we are massive lovers of the countryside and walking, with a boarder collie to match - but I've not been to a class or the like since Mrs Zumba banned me from going to her class upon mentioning the "p" word.
Last week, I was writing about how to address my work life balance, how to find more time, make more time, bury some work or whatever I needed to do to make me feel like I was a little more on top of things. Well, this is step one, I have decided. It's going to happen every week from now on.
It was impromptu. I was unpacking the shopping and the delivery driver had commented on what a nice evening it was. She was right. Perfect for a walk up to the pool and perfect for some me time. And me time it was. 1 hour and 20 minutes with my own thoughts... Not thinking about work, planning, marking, coursework. Not worrying about E, who is safely tucked up in bed, dosed up on painkillers for these molars, carefree and warm. Not looking at the washing, the hoover, the pile of stuff on the stairs that doesn't have a home and could really do with having one. Bliss.
But my GOODNESS am I sore. My caesarian scar and lower abdominal muscles feel battered. My arms feel a bit wobbly. I had to give up after 25 minutes and then hop around in the shallow end as I got awful cramp in my calf. And then I tried again, and the cramp came back, so that put an end to that one... But it felt good to be exercising, it felt good to be doing something different and it felt liberating to be out on a school night.