When it comes to both childbirth and marathon training, I appear to have uncovered a striking similarity. Obviously when it comes down to the nitty gritty, the two are nothing alike (one involves growing an actual person and then pushing this FULLY GROWN human out of your lady bits, while the other involves running a very long way). And while I wouldn’t dare suggest the two are equal in the pain stakes (30 hours of labour; enough said), both smart a bit.
But here is where the two experiences are alike: for some weird, crazy reason, your brain forgets. The hours of pain, exhaustion and fear are simply wiped out – *puff* – in a cloud of smoke. I mean, how? HOW do you just FORGET something like that?
This is why, when faced with the prospect of cuddling a newborn these days, my uterus shows an overly keen interest, when really, after what it’s been through, it should be trying to evacuate my body by any means possible before hurling itself off the nearest available cliff.