Look closely at the scene on my book cover. I’m not riding that bike. I’m pushing it.
Heavily pregnant, all 185 centimetres of me, walking an oversized men’s road bike through the Singapore heat. Two kids on board. Bags swinging off the handlebars, backpack digging into my shoulders. Sweating, a little ridiculous, and absolutely fine.
That choice — to walk, not ride — is the whole point of this post.
Because oh, the opinions I got about that bike. Everyone had one. Should you really still be cycling? Isn’t that dangerous now? What if you fall? I heard it constantly, from people who were kind, well-meaning, and had no medical training whatsoever.
My gynaecologist gave me something more useful than a yes or a no. She said cycling was okay — and to be careful, because the fall risk is real. Not just a fall I might cause, but one someone else might cause: a car door, a swerving scooter, a distracted driver. Cycling itself wasn’t the problem. The road was.
So I kept cycling to work. And with one child on the bike, I still cycled.
With two children on board? I got off and walked.
Nobody told me to. My gynaecologist hadn’t banned it. I just knew — that particular load, that particular balance, that particular stage of pregnancy — was past my line. Because you’re allowed to and you should are not the same sentence.
That’s the thing nobody hands you along with the advice: permission is not a plan. You still have to know your own limits.
So let’s talk about it honestly.
Two things are true at once
Most pregnancy advice picks a side. Either everything is dangerous and you should sit down — or nothing is, and you should carry on exactly as before. Both are lazy.
Here’s the honest version. You can almost certainly do more than you’ve been told. And you should probably do less than you technically could. Both. At the same time.
The first half matters because so many women stop everything the moment they see two lines. Not because a doctor said stop — because nobody told them they could continue, and the silence felt safer. That costs them: a body that copes better with a growing bump, a back that holds up, an easier recovery, and the steadiness of still feeling like themselves.
The second half matters because “you’re cleared to train” is not the same as “push on regardless.” Permission isn’t a plan. You still have to read the day, the load, the risk — and be willing to get off the bike and walk.
What actually changes
For most women with an uncomplicated pregnancy, staying active — including strength training — is not just safe, it’s genuinely good for you and your baby. That’s the mainstream medical position, not a fringe one.
What changes isn’t whether you train. It’s how.
- You’re adapting, not starting over. If you’ve been lifting, you can generally keep lifting. If you’re new to it, pregnancy is a fine time to start gently and sensibly. What you shouldn’t do is chase big new personal records.
- Your body will tell you things. Breathlessness that stops you talking, dizziness, pain, pelvic heaviness, leaking — that’s a signal to modify, not to push through. (Sound familiar? Same lesson I had to learn the hard way postpartum.)
- Expect to modify as you go. As your bump grows, positions change, balance shifts, and loads may come down. That’s not failure. That’s training — which was always about adapting to the body you have today.
- Watch the risks you don’t control. Fall risk isn’t only about your own balance; it’s about the car door, the wet floor, the person who isn’t looking. Managing that is part of the decision, not fussing.
- Talk to your care provider. Especially with any complications, a high-risk pregnancy, or if you’re unsure. Get personalised guidance — not internet reassurance, and not your neighbour’s opinion.
The question to actually ask
Stop asking “is this safe?” as a yes/no about exercise as a whole. It’s the wrong question, and it has no useful answer.
Ask instead: is this right for my body, today, in this pregnancy?
That one you can answer — with a good practitioner, an honest read of your own symptoms, and a plan built to change as you do. It puts you back in charge, instead of leaving you frozen by a fear nobody has actually explained, or pushed by a permission you didn’t fully think through.
Not fragile — and not invincible
Pregnancy is not an injury. Your body is doing something extraordinary, and it’s far more capable than the whispered warnings suggest. You’re allowed to keep being strong, and you’ll want that strength — for the birth, for the recovery, and for everything that comes after.
But strength isn’t only what you can push through. Sometimes it’s the decision to get off the bike and walk, with two kids on board and a whole household in the bags, because you know that today, that’s the right call.
Knowing your limits isn’t weakness. It’s the most experienced thing you can do.
This is the conversation I have with clients constantly — and it’s why I wrote the book. The first chapter of Strength Through the Messy & Beyond is free to read right now: an honest look at why so much fitness advice was never built for the reality of women’s lives.
Daniëlle van der Leest
Women’s Strength & Wellbeing Coach | Founder of ActiveWomen | Mum of 3
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