“This is my first time running since giving birth!” I proudly tell another runner at the starting line.

“Oh congrats! How old is your baby?!”

“10 months!”

I can tell by her look that she was expecting a much younger baby.. a more impressive "bounce back" from birth. My former self would have been too embarrassed to even mention that it took me *so long* to get back on the trail post-baby. But my more integrated and intuitive self just relished in the moment and how hard I’ve worked to get here.

‘Here’ is not a specific distance, pace, or race I arbitrarily decided I had to do.

Rather ‘here’ is the culmination of allowing my body to heal after carrying a child for 9 months, enduring a long labor and birth, and navigating the ups and downs of breastfeeding and postpartum.

‘Here’ is every time I said no to running bc my body needed something more gentle.

‘Here’ is learning to listen to my body and telling my ego to chill the f*** out.

As an athlete, I was conditioned to always push harder, be the best, override the pain and to never take time off. That mindset continued to create deep ruts in my mind that felt impossible to get out of, even after collegiate sports had ended. After years of working to re-wire those thoughts, things seemed to be getting less rigid. However, during pregnancy and postpartum those thoughts crept back in - loud and insistent - as I entered completely uncharted territory.

I’d scroll through stories of women who “bounced back” to their pre-baby bodies or took their newborns on epic adventures. So naturally I thought, if they can do it, so can I! And I’ll do it faster! And stronger! And my baby will be younger! Like it was a competition, rather than inspiration. The problem is we're not robots with the exact some inputs and outputs. I’m a human, whose body worked hard, stretched, pushed, and surrendered to pregnancy and childbirth, something that is out of my control (even though I naively thought it was). My pregnancy and recovery were uniquely mine, and the challenge was accepting that — not fighting it or ignoring the subtle cues I heard. Easier said than done. Listening to my body wasn’t just a mindset shift; it was an act of surrender. It took me a while to find language for what this surrender actually meant — until I remembered what I’d learned through yoga.

In yoga philosophy, surrender — Ishvara pranidhana — is the fifth niyama on the eight-limbed path. It means “surrender to the divine.” And really, what could be more divine (and messy, and humbling) and require more surrender than childbirth? Deborah Adele states in her book The Yamas & Niyamas, "Ishvara Pranidhana is the surrender of the ego to a higher purpose. As the ego stops fighting to be number one, life begins to nourish and feed us in amazing ways. [This tenet] asks us to be strong enough to engage with each moment with integrity while being soft enough to flow with the current of life." Surrender is not passive. Surrender is not giving up. But you must release what you cannot control and trust to the process to fully flourish.

While I still grieved my birth plan not going as I had hoped, it was easier for me to accept it and surrender to the outcome. What I didn’t expect was how much harder it would be to surrender after birth, especially as an athlete. Everyone talks about having a birth plan, but hardly anyone talks about a postpartum plan. Once the meals stop arriving and the check-ins fade, you’re left navigating this massive physical and emotional shift — often with the expectation that you’ll simply “get back” to life as before.

• Get back to epic, all day adventures in the backcountry without having to worry about when I'm going to pump or mom-guilt.

• Get back to running long distances, without peeing myself or wearing multiple sports bras to support my engorged breasts.

• Get back to doing yoga without queffing every. single. time. in 3-legged dog.

Other moms seem to be doing it just fine and actually seem to be thriving, so what's wrong with me?

Before years of work, my thoughts would spiral out of control. I never got quiet enough to hear what my body needed. When I did, I chose to over ride that wisdom with diet culture BS and society's unrealistic standards. Those thought patterns resurfaced and I found myself negotiating my postpartum recovery: You have to lose weight. You can't look like you had a baby. You have to get back to running ASAP and be just as fast or faster. Maybe even do a half.. or better yet a full! No, an ULTRA. And for what? To impress my friends or the internet? To be celebrated for a quick ‘bounce back’? But at what cost? Perhaps...

• less sleep (which is already a hot commodity with a newborn in the house)

• Inadequate nutrition

• Increased stress

• Unstable mood

• Compromised milk supply

• Weakened immune system

• Less focus on bonding with my baby

While it felt hard to surrender to my journey and what my body was asking for, it felt harder to compromise the things listed above.

For me, that meant embracing other activities besides running until my daughter was closer to a year old and slowly integrating it back in. Doing yoga at home to avoid embarrassment and save time commuting. Taking my daughter on short hikes and savoring the simplicity of simply being in the mountains with her. Asking for help when I needed to connect with a friend or schedule playdates that we could catch up in snippets around parenting. Focusing and celebrating what my body can do, rather than what it can't.

Yes. This looks different than what I thought postpartum would look like. AND THAT'S OKAY.

Women who win ultras 6-months after having a baby while stopping to breastfeed are AMAZING and inspirational.

Women who take time off from sport to focus on their baby for a full year (or two or three) are also AMAZING and inspirational.

The beauty is that you get to choose your priorities, with a little help from the wisdom of your body and intuition (and probably your healthcare team too!).

My hope with this blog post is to remind everyone, especially current or former athletes, that your recovery after birth is unique. There is no specific timeline. And while it’s challenging to not compare and perhaps even be competitive with postpartum recovery, it’s not helping the process at all. Accepting and surrendering to your timeline is hard af, especially when you see others on a different one.

Some things that can support you in postpartum:

• Take time off social media

• Pelvic Floor Physical Therapy

• Mental Health Therapy

• Lactation support (if breastfeeding)

• Buying clothes that fit and support you in the here and now (ie leak proof shorts, more supportive sports bras, different sizes, etc) or still rocking maternity clothes (yes, that's okay!)

• Find a community of like minded women who celebrate all different journeys

• Making time for yourself and asking for help (family, friends, or networking to find baby sitters)

• Share your story with others

Is this work easy? Hell no. But women do hard shit all. the. time.

It has taken me a long time to arrive "here." Where I can separate my disordered thoughts from the wisdom of my body. Where I can know when to challenge myself to push harder AND when to nurture myself and slow down. I have to remind myself that the race will be there next year, or in two years or three. I don't have to do it THIS year to be relevant or worthy or important. I'm allowed the time and space to recover. Every time I step up to the starting line, I want it to be from a place of celebration and love for my body rather than performative or "proving" myself to society's standards.

So as I lace up my shoes and step to the starting line once again, I’m reminded that being here has nothing to do with how fast I got back—only with how fully I’ve arrived.