Jolene’s bib number sparked a conversation with Mother Runners who’ve had prophetic, all-knowing, or just hilarious bib numbers

You compile your playlist, you choose a picture-perfect outfit, but sometimes what it takes to get into a racing state of mind is a lucky number. A few weeks ago we posted a photo of mother runner Jolene who was ready to dive into “beast mode” with her bib number 666. Turns out other mother runners have also had some unusual race bib numbers that made them stand out from the crowd.

You’re a mother runner and your bib knows it! Some women have found an uncanny connection between their race numbers and their children.

As Crush the turtle would say, runners “have some serious thrill issues, dude.”

“I ran a turtle trot race that supported sea turtle preservation. I was doing it because we have always called my son Squirt after the turtle in ‘Finding Nemo,’ so I was running it in honor of him. Imagine my surprise when I picked up my race number and it was 696, which is the month and year my son was born, June 1996.” (Lisa Summerlin Sparks)

“My first race ever I got #715 – my daughter’s birthday!” (Ellen Casey)

“My 11-year-old has always been my biggest supporter in running. When I ran my first half, he couldn’t come with me because it was an out-of-town girls weekend. I got #917–his birthdate.” (Sarita Esqueda)

“Our first daughter was born at 4:44, and we always said her lucky number was going to be four. Fast forward a year and a half and hubby was running his first marathon and his number was 444! My daughter and I loved cheering him on!” (Cathy Finnerty Cretella).

“I was #17 in my first 5K this weekend, fitting since I am 17-weeks pregnant!!” (Jamie Pedrick Clark)

Sometimes you have to use the heavy duty cleaner for the big races

Speedy mother runners are known for “sweeping” the competition, but Dani Sanchez-Gleason’s racing bib suggested some actual cleaning products.

“I couldn’t help but remark that I was going to ‘clean up’ the race when I received bib #409.”

The bib number might not be too special, but did they put you in the right age group? Sonja Usry may be the fastest and “oldest” mother runner we know.

“I ran in the Susan Komen Race for the Cure in Jackson, MS, yesterday. My bib first stated I was racing in the 10K, which was incorrect (actually 5K), and more importantly, that my age was 99. I bet they are still looking for the 99-year-old who ran a 10K in 25 minutes!”

Think your bib number is pedestrian? Chelsea Huber found sometimes it takes a holiday race, a running buddy, and a history-savvy husband to find fireworks-worthy bib.

“My daughter and I ran a 5K last July 4. Our bib numbers were 17 and 76. History was my worst subject so I did not even notice it until my husband pointed it out that evening.”

Have any other odd bib number stories? Share them in the comments

You gave the race organizers your phone number, your birthday, and your email address. Yet Lauren Shafer Horner discovered the race knows even more about you.

“My bib number for my first half was 411–my height!”

And if you didn’t do enough training, there’s always prayer.

“Husband got 316 once. He added a ‘:’ and a ‘John’. He’s not a Christian…” (Kimberly Wheeler)

As for Jolene and her half-marathon with bib number 666:

It must have brought out the beast in her because she snagged 4^th in her age group and PR’d by 13 minutes! As she told us: “The number was meant to be mine.”

Michelle running the 2012 Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth.

Michelle Emme is a marathon mother runner, but it’s the 13.1 distance that has captured her heart. This Hermantown, Minn. mom of three daughters—Gabby, 14; Miranda, 10; and Samantha, 8—is training for her seventh half-marathon, the Garry Bjorklund Half Marathon next month in Duluth. She’s training for a sub-two hour finish this time (You can do it, Michelle!) and will follow this race with at least a couple more half-marathons yet this year. Oh, and it’s her 45^th birthday this Saturday—happy birthday, Michelle!

Best recent run: I had to bail on a scheduled half-marathon up on the Gunflint Trail on May 5 because I came down with a fever and accompanying virus the Friday before the race. I missed a 14-mile long run and due to the craptastic weather component, I was forced to run my 13-miler in a three-hour window on Sunday morning. It was foggy and damp (reminded me very much of our time in Portland), but I dressed appropriately. My pace was dead-on, my fueling seemed to work, and I actually finished strong for the last 15 minutes with negative splits.

Michelle and her BRF Louise on their walk to the starting corrals for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Las Vegas Half Marathon last December.

Owning It: I am on week nine of the TLAM Half-Marathon Own-It plan. I have completed six half-marathons and a full over the past two years, so I was ready for the challenge. I’ve had some bumps in the road, and haven’t hit every run on the program, but so far I find it has just the right amount of hard and easy runs to keep it challenging, yet do-able. I’m looking forward to seeing how it translates during my next scheduled half-marathon on June 22.

The Allure of 13.1: I like to run long, but at the same time dread it. There is such a feeling of accomplishment when you’re done. It is just so fun to be able to say that you can run the distance that most people drive to the store or work or wherever. I am always thinking about where I started my running journey and where I am today, and how each long run kind of honors that journey.

Most Memorable Race: The 2011 Las Vegas Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon. I had recently finished my second half in October 2011 and entered the contest on Another Mother Runner for a free entry. Lo and behold, I was one of the winners. I took along two of my BRFs, got to meet Dimity and Sarah for the first time, met Kara Goucher and had her sign my bib, and my dad came from California to see me race. He hadn’t seen me in over a year and I had lost a significant amount of weight, so it was a very exciting moment for all of us. This race was the 2:00:56 finish, and although I was initially very upset that I had gotten so close to a sub-2 hour finish, everything combined made it very special.

Whole30Challenge: I found myself eight to 10 pounds heavier after full marathon training last year. I wasn’t fueling myself correctly while training and the cycle of restricting too much caught up to me, and then I’d have an out-of-control day, and so on. The Whole30 Challenge is 30 days of vegetables, some fruit, organic/pastured animal protein and healthy fats. No grains, dairy, legumes, sugar, alcohol. It worked well to get me out of that viscous cycle, but it is just not sustainable during a training cycle.  I’ve taken what I liked from it and incorporated many more vegetables and healthy fats into my diet and rely more on whole grains like oats and quinoa instead of bagels and bread for my carbs.

“A very hilly, local 5.1K (they like to be different) where my youngest daughter, Samantha, ran the kids race.”

Balancing Family & Running: My husband is an urologic surgeon and I stay at home. Most of my running is done while they are at school to avoid conflicts with their schedules. Matt’s job just prevents him from helping out much. My normal Friday long runs from last year aren’t working out for whatever reason this year, so I’ve been at the mercy of his call schedule, having my oldest daughter watch her sisters, or push the run to Monday when everyone is back at work/school. I have a treadmill at home, so I can get everything but the longest of runs done at home in a pinch. My family enjoys seeing me race and is very supportive and protective of my running time.

Running Hopes & Dreams: I’ve always been infatuated with Hood to Coast and would love to be on a relay team someday. I have often thought of trying out the triathlon, but want to attain my sub-two hour goal first. If at some point, I find more speed, qualifying for Boston would be phenomenal, though at present, not likely.

Follow This Mother on Twitter, at her blog, and on Instagram.

Honey, Do You Need a Ride? Confessions of a Fat Runner by Jennifer Graham landed in our mailboxes recently, and we were psyched for the opportunity to dive in—and to share it with you. Here’s a Q+A with the author, and at the end, check out how you can win one of three copies for today’s giveaway.

For people unfamiliar with you, can you give us a quick bio of you/your family/your running?

Jennifer: I’m a runner, writer and single mom of four who has learned the hard way that relationships are more fragile than we think, but our bodies are stronger than we think.

I started running 25 years ago when I was single and childless and working full-time as a newspaper reporter.  Although my life is drastically different now, the one constant over the years has been my running. Although I never became the lithe gazelle that I’d originally hoped – and there have been many more disappointments along the way – running is as a part of me as breathing, and the reason joy is my default state of mind.

When somebody asks you for an elevator speech–or a few sentences–about your book, how do you explain it?

It’s a memoir about what it’s like to run with gazelles when your shadow looks more like a walrus, and a cautionary tale for people who believe, like I once did, that their marriages are bombproof.  Also, it’s a reverent ode to ice cream.

I love the scene about you dancing with joy after a great run.  You wrote: “For the first time in my life, I recognized that exertion, regardless of one’s size, was a reliable source of joy.” I love that line. Can you tell us a little more about it?

I grew up overweight, and therefore hyper sensitive about my body, and painfully bereft of healthy male attention, and so I never learned to dance, even though I’ve always been a dancer in spirit.

The scene you mentioned happened a year or so after I started running, when I was finally making peace with the body I’d hated for so long.  I’d just finished a two-mile run on a serene country road, and when I got home, I was still so full of energy and joy that it spilled out under the moonlight, and I danced, unselfconsciously, in my front yard. It was a physical expression of exhilaration, and one that is available to all of us, not always on demand, but with satisfying regularity.  And dancing like that is something I still do on occasion after a run, although for the sake of my long-suffering children, I duck inside our barn first!

Jennifer and her two-legged kids.

Let’s talk about the scene where you’re standing at the start of the Kiawah Half-Marathon and looking around at everybody who is so skinny, and you feel “thick and congealed.” And then you realize nobody cares about the size of your thighs; they’re all too self-involved or worrying about the race. Was that a big revelation for you? Do you continue to think that’s true?

I do think it’s true of runners. Runners, as a tribe, are amazingly welcoming and forgiving and embracing of all body types.  We honor effort.  Unfortunately, sedentary people are the ones who will snipe.

A North Carolina runner whose blog I follow had a post last week about being out on a run and a group of smoking, drinking women cackling at her, “You know you’re too fat to be out here, don’t you?”  Another runner would never say that to a runner. I’ve never had another runner say anything belittling to me, at least not to my face.

But the most valuable lesson I’ve learned in the past couple of years is that all opinions are not created equal.  Not everyone’s opinion matters. We’ve all got different voices yelling at us—real ones, and ones inside our head—and we get to choose whose voices get through.  Choose wisely. Ignore the voices that don’t matter. You know whose they are.

Does Pre still coach you? (And can you explain a little about how Pre started coaching you?)

Thank you for being bold enough to bring this up.  Most people ignore this whole aspect of the book, kind of like, Okay, we think she’s a little nutso, so walk carefully around this part lest she start convulsing and foaming at the mouth!

First off, your readers should know that I’m an only child, and only children are famous for having imaginary friends. And some highly respected people have confessed to having imaginary conversations, among them Gandhi, Mother Teresa and Hillary Clinton. Charles Dickens used to get so wrapped up in his that he would laugh out loud in the middle of church services.

Here’s the thing:  We all have voices in our head, and, if we listen carefully enough, in our hearts, too. They may be that of our mothers, or God, or our first-grade teacher, or the last song to which we listened on the radio.

For a while, after my husband moved out, his was the loudest voice in my head, and it was really—I mean REALLY— unpleasant.  I needed to get rid of it, so I replaced it with the voice of Steve Prefontaine, the legendary rock-star Olympian who died in a car crash at age 24.   Unlike my husband, Pre became a grudging fan and an enthusiastic cheerleader who always had something useful to say. I didn’t pull him or our “conversations” out of the air; I’d read several books about him, and watched all the movies, and clips on YouTube, so I had a pretty good idea of the kind of person he was, the kinds of things he would say.  And yes, he still accompanies me on many of my runs, and I expect he always will, even if someday I get a “real” coach.

We did two-part Photo Gallery: What Another Mother Runner looks like (here’s part I and here’s part II). I know you said you don’t have your picture on the internet, but given that our mother runners are all shapes and sizes, would you have posed for us?

This is so wonderful, and I applaud you for doing this, and if you ever send a photographer to my house, you will find me hiding under my bed.

No, seriously, there was a time when I wouldn’t have done this, but I probably would now, although I might insist on going to the tanning salon for a couple of weeks first. (Fat always looks better when it’s brown.)

The real reason there aren’t more “fat” pictures of me in the book or on my blogs is, they don’t exist.  I remember one picture, in particular, that was snapped of me after I’d just finished the Cooper River Bridge Run (a 10K in Charleston, SC) in a tank top and clingy capris, and I was mortified by it and threw it away.  This strikes me as sad now, and I want to hug the person I was then and say, you dummy, you were so amazing, you’d just run a 10K!

I’d like to say that I am self-actualized enough now to not care at all what I look like, but I’m not there yet, and there are still days in which I try on four outfits in frustration before I head out the door for a run, and even then, I might put on sunglasses and a baseball cap, as if this would hide my dimpled legs.  I’m still a work in progress.  But I’m a work in process with terrific blood pressure and a resting heart rate in the low 50s.

Jennifer and her four-legged kids.

These days, are you training for an upcoming race or putting in your regular miles or somewhere in between?

I’m still running in place, although I am scheduled to run the Kiawah Half again in December, so at some point, I’ll have to get serious about training again.

If somebody who is reading this who thinks they’re too fat to run, what would you tell them?

Fat is a state of mind, not a state of body, so you need to change your thinking more than you need to change your body.  First, play some head games, gift yourself an imaginary coach, someone who will gently but persistently lead you out there.

There’s a great children’s book called “A Mother for Choco” in which an endearing little bird with striped feet looks for a mother that looks just like him.  After animal after animal rejects him (kind of like how real-life coach after real-life coach rejected me), he comes across a warm and nurturing mother bear who says, “Well, if I were your mother, what would I do?”  And then she proceeds to do all the things Choco says, proving that your mother doesn’t actually have to be your mother.

Same thing with a coach…being alive and present is highly overrated.  A coach doesn’t have to actually be in the room to be effective.  What would a coach say to you right now, if he or she were there?  Truth is, we all know what we ought to be doing, but sometimes it helps to have someone else say it. Summon the person who will best say it to you, then heed that advice.

Secondly, find yourself an outfit that makes you feel powerful. You might not be able to find one that makes you feel thin—not right away, anyway—but with a little effort, you can find one that makes you feel powerful.  Either a T-shirt with an attitude, or a temporary tattoo, or wicked pair of reflecting sunglasses, or a feminine skort, or my personal and inexplicable favorite, a pair of fingerless bicycling gloves. It’s hard to run when you’re feeling small and vulnerable. Create an attitude of toughness before you even head out the door.

Finally, don’t discourage yourself by going too far, too fast, too soon. Build confidence by going slower and shorter than you can. Nothing kills ambition like exhaustion. If you can only run to your mailbox and back, run to your mailbox and back.  Then, the next day, run to your mailbox and back, plus 10 steps. And so forth. Over time, you will be able to run to the post office 10 miles away.

If you want to win one of three copies of Jennifer’s book, answer this question in the comments below: what adjective would you put in front of “runner” to describe you? Talented? Improving? Striving? Unmotivated? We’ll pick three random winners and announce them on June 1.

Mother runners’ heartfelt way of showing their support of victims of Boston Marathon bombings

We were awestruck by the power of your response: You showed your support and love by purchasing 1,987 (!!)  T-shirts. For yourself, for your sisters, for friends who ran Boston, for mothers-in-law spectating the race. After doing the math, we realized this would mean we could donate more than $25,000. Our hearts swelled with astonishment, pride, and gratitude.

Then reality set in: nearly 2,000 T-shirts in boxes in my living room, needing to be folded, packed, and mailed as far away as England and Bangkok and across United States. Gulp! I felt nauseated at the mere thought, envisioning all you mother runners eagerly awaiting your T-shirt(s). When I wear my Shopgal Sarah hat, I take a lot of pride in fulfilling orders in a timely fashion, but I could tell this was unlike any orders we’d received before. Rather than talk you through the process–I’m hoping most of you have already received your tee, if not, it’s en route–let me show you some images from the 10 days it took to get the shirts folded, packed, and ready for the USPS. There were many speedbumps along the way, most notably two postage printers that repeatedly jammed and broke, but like any rough race, we eventually crossed the finish line.

Some of the assembled mother runners who selflessly helped out stuffing packages, sticking on labels, and offering technical support. And that’s Emily, my mail carrier, in the middle. She’s been my BFF the last two weeks: Once packages were getting mailed, she’d stop by 2x every day to pick up.

(L) Lisa the Label Lady, marking all the packages with names and sizes ordered. (C) Miller loved all the action, and hopped right in. (R) Cyndie (and the hand of her kindergartner) offered help in myriad ways, including talking me off the proverbial ledge a few times.

Cyndie (a.k.a. my mental and technical savior the past week or so) dressed the part while stuffing envelopes.

My living room: packages awaiting postage and labels, while I awaited a replacement printer that wouldn’t break after printing a mere 150 labels like the first one did. Silly me: Printer #2 ended up breaking at least four times. Cyndie fixed the first times, then I tackled it solo. Then, six (6!!) shirts from the end, it seemed to break for good. Deep breath.

Kristin, another bigtime helper, hugging a bunch of orders when we finally got things rolling for real.

Same screen, different names: my view for week+. Changed what I listened to, though, to pass the time, including Fresh Air, Radio Lab, and our own Another Mother Runner podcasts. (Is it wrong to laugh along with myself?!)

Handing off the last load to Emily. Phew!

The moneyshot: Thanks to you all, we donated $25,600 (!!!) to One Fund Boston.

Thanks to you all for being so incredibly generous and gracious: The force of mother runners’ love will be felt by the victims of this tragedy. I also want to give a shout-out to all my helpers, in no particular order: Joanne, Lisa, Cyndie, Krista, Kelly, Penny, Kristin, Molly, Julie, and Sarah L. You work lightened the load; your attitude lifted my spirits.

And this entire undertaking, while daunting, reaffirms my abiding faith in humanity. Out of darkness has come brightness. Many, many thanks.

Pre-race meal: Chipotle carbs and a few more carbs. Notice how my pal Bine is holding down her sour cream and cheese cups. It was that windy.

Before I start this  (long) race report, I just want to start with a reality check. As my friend Bine (rhymes with “Tina”) and I were driving to the race on Saturday morning, I said to her, “This is really whacked that I think this race will feel short.” So if you’re reading this—as I’ve read countless long-distance race reports—and think, “I could never.” I’m here to tell you: I’m whacked, and you could.

Without further ado, 10 things I learned at the HITS Triathlon Series, Grand Junction Half Distance:

1. Make a list and check it four times. I did the former, and even checked everything off, but that method was still not foolproof. As soon as we got to Highline State Park to get our numbers on Friday and I opened up the back of my minivan, I realized I left my helmet back in Denver. I had packed it once, but then my kids wanted to ride their bikes to school—dang those little buggers who would rather pedal than ride!—so I pulled it out for that journey, and forgot to repack it. I went over to the bike shop and asked the very helpful man to bring me a (really affordable) one in the morning, and then I went to ask at the registration tent if they had any extras. They didn’t, but Brian, a super nice guy from Colorado Springs, overheard me, had an extra, and it fit my noggin’. Phew. (I also forgot a towel for transition, but that was NBD: no big deal.)

2. Don’t drink the lake water. Even though Bine and I feasted on Chipotle on Friday night;  I ate a big plain bagel smeared with peanut-free NuttZo and a banana at about 5:15 a.m;  then I had a vanilla GU around 6:45, I still felt that empty-stomach nausea that stops me cold as I rounded the fourth of five buoys. I definitely hydrated well with the lake water, and that might have been part of the problem, but thinking I’ll need more calories before Ironman. Or maybe I’ll gulp a GU in between the swim laps.

Love the HITS triathlon transition area: every athlete gets a stool and a cubby! (Almost like kindergarten!)

3. Don’t worry about the swim. Everybody gets all worked up about the swim at Ironmans, and while I don’t want to belittle their concerns, I don’t need to feed into that energy. On Saturday, I deliberately put myself in the front middle of the swim pack since I’d never done a mass start before, and even though the 250 people won’t compare to the thousands at Ironman, it was pretty darn close. (In the first transition, a woman near me said, “That swim start was like Ironman. What was up with that?” Bingo!, I thought.)

The first 10 strokes, I even put my head in the water. Had to get my bearings. Then just hands, legs, unintentional groping craziness. But I didn’t lose my goggles, didn’t get kicked too hard, didn’t get swum over, so that’s a win. I just kept moving forward, hoping things would thin out, and they did by the first buoy, when I found some space in rhythm. I settled into a 10-stroke-and-look-for-buoy pattern, I breast-stroked around the buoys to just chill and recenter myself. Thanks to my Zoot Z Force 4.0 WetZoot, which slid on easily and made me feel like a buoy in the water, I finished the swim in 31:XX. A PR by at least 1 minute.

More effort to make my goofy face than it took to put on the WetZoot. Seriously.

4. Find my music. My marching orders from my coach were to go faster on the bike than the 18 mph I’d anticipated since she wanted my legs to feel a little more like they would during Ironman, so I marched. Or rather, I flew. Bare with me and my nerdiness, but for the first 10 miles, I kept humming, “This course is made for you and me,” a la This Land is Your Land. (You = Lyle, my two-wheeled fly guy.) When I got sick of that, Taylor Swift’s State of Grace popped into my head, and it couldn’t have been more appropriate: distant mountains were sandwiched between Crayola sky and kelly spring green of Colorado farms. I felt so balanced and strong. Like there was no other place on this earth I was supposed to be than smack dab in Grand Junction, pedaling my bike, and just feeling graceful—and grateful.

5. And get it done. The bike course was two separate out-and-backs, and the first one was all grace and Lyle; the second was not. We crossed over a cattle grate, and then there was a sign that said, “Open Range,” which was perfectly accurate. Just dry, open space for as long as I could see. Space, and a 10-ish mile climb, and bumpy pavement with lots of cracks in it, and wind—another springtime feature in ‘rado—blasting in my face. We rode almost to the Utah border. My mood didn’t go totally south, but I wasn’t flying anymore. I just put my head down, told myself it wouldn’t be more than 30 minutes, and that I’d get to come back down every inch I had climbed. With that, I have to give my ride ★★★★★; I averaged 19.8 mph. (Thanks legs and Lyle!)

Bine and me, pre-race, before her stomach started chatting with her.

6. Remember my whole journey. My first half-Ironman was in 2002, shortly after I suffered a miscarriage. (I think my mentality was that I wanted to force body, which I was so angry at, to cooperate…) Anyway, the race was ridiculously hard because I hadn’t trained well, and I remember going into a port-a-potty around mile 2 of the run, sitting down, bare ass on the gross seat, and just crying for like four minutes. It took every thing I had to get myself up, and turn right when I exited to continue “racing” (read: shuffling and feeling sorry for myself), and not turn left to quit. As I took a pit stop before I set off on the run on Saturday, I remembered that moment—I’ve thought about it often during my training—and almost got teary again. I feel like a different person today than I was over a decade ago. Thankful for that.

7. Lube my pits. Before the swim, bike, and run. I love my Saucony Zip Tank but something wonky—my swim stroke or my arm swing on my run—caused some really spectacular chafe in my left pit area that burned with nearly every step on the run. (Right pit? Mostly fine.) I would’ve shot it for you, but decided to spare you.

8. Stick to the plan. My plan for the run: 4 minutes of running/1 minute of walking. I am thrilled with the results: a 2:13 half-marathon that, according to my Garmin, was 13.4 miles long.

Don’t get me wrong: The run was still hard, but it wasn’t an epic slog, as every other long triathlon run has been. Around mile 1, I started chatting with Laura, another mother runner, and I was very tempted to hang with her because I liked her and her rules. (“My #1 rule for the triathlon run: find a buddy,” she told me.) I would’ve loved to be her buddy, but the last thing I wanted to do was run, say, 4 straight miles and then slog it out. So I told her about my run/walk ratio, and let her go. And I stuck with it for most of the run, with the exception of descents (if I was going down, I kept running) and crazy uphills towards the end (better to walk them; my legs were definitely worked enough). The same few triathletes stayed around me for the whole run; sure, they may have been a few minutes faster in the end, but I didn’t mentally defeat myself on the run. That’s worth a freakin’ hour in my don’t-hate-the-run book.

9. I love women. File this under the gross generalization category, but female competitors are just so much cooler than the testosterone-addled ones. Every guy who passed me on the bike: not a word. Sometimes I’d say, “Good job,” and he’d nod. The women? Some combination of Nice job! Looking strong! How’s it going? Woo woo! On the run, the lead woman enthusiastically yelled, “Great job!” to me as she was heading back and I was heading out. I was thrilled. When I later figured out she was pro triathlete Heather “Ironman” Gollnick, my world was rocked. (In their defense, the guys were more encouraging on the run, but the estrogen vibes were still stronger.)

I also love the HITS motto: a distance for everybody. When Bine didn’t finish her race, I asked if she could still have a medal. Her distance on Saturday was 58.4 miles.

10. There is only one thing I can control: my head. Bine was doing the Full AquaBike (2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike) in preparation for Vineman, a Ironman-length race in July. After a stellar swim, she had some serious GI + period issues—I won’t spill her secrets here—around mile 30 of the bike, and she decided not to go out for her second 56-mile lap. I was actually relieved when I saw her at the finish line; when I wasn’t counting how many intervals I had to do on the run (26, if you want to know), I was worried about Bine. The wind at that point was howling, the blue sky was turning black, and I could see thunderstorms in the distance. I didn’t want her to be on the Open Range (mostly) by herself.

She was disappointed, though, and I get that. I also get that the universe was reminding me that there are about a zillion things I won’t be able to control on Ironman race day—the water temperature, the wind, the sun, the attitudes of my competitors, my angry left hip, my left foot that still feels tweaked a bit, my hormones, my intestines, how loudly my husband cheers, my period… (Although I’ll just put this out there: please, please if you’re listening: no Aunt Flo on June 23. Please.)

What can I control? My attitude. My head. The way I take care of and feed my body. And that’s about it.

I told you: bright green day. And a huge smile under that hat.

With a final time of 5:44, I PR’ed by an hour, easily, on Saturday, came in first in my Athena over-40 category, and would’ve taken second in the women 40-45. It was such a win, I almost want to bottle it and call this Ironmother journey a success.

Even though my legs are weary and I’m not yet ready to look at next week’s training plan, I know I wouldn’t really stand for that. A few more weeks of tough training, a rejuvenating taper, and I’ll have my game face on again. And this time, I’ll be even more prepared.

A scorcher in Sacto

Dimity and Sarah recount a brutally hot run they recently survived in Sacramento, showing sometimes they don’t heed their own advice.  After their done laughing at their own stupidity (and chafing!), they answer a few questions from mother runners, including how to come back from a stress fracture and how to run races on a budget. Finally the mothers ponder how to stay motivated and gain satisfaction despite slowing down, and SBS admits she’s actually been contemplating stepping up to an ultramarathon. Listen all the way through to hear the debated word of the week.

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It’s Friday morning, and I–Dimity–am almost as prepared as I thought I would be for my dress rehearsal race tomorrow. (If you want to hear about the flip side of a race, definitely read Sarah’s Vancouver Marathon honest and beautiful race report.) I still have to pack my pj’s and toothbrush bag, but all of my gear is ready to go—and my mind and body are faring forward in that direction as well. To wit: look at how organized my GU Energy products are (in a plastic bag and all!).

I know exactly how many calories is in this bag.

And we’ve got three lucky winners of the 24 variety packs of GU. (You don’t have to consume all 2,400 calories in one workout, unlike some crazy wannabe Ironmother I know…) Here are their names and what they’ve learned recently about themselves and their running:

Tara: In my 1/2 marathon this past weekend, I learned that I underestimate myself. I had a goal of 2:20 and finished in 2:04. I’m stronger than I give myself credit for.

Kym: In my last race I overcame a major mental obstacle of not thinking I could run more than a 5k. I have run longer distances using the Galloway method but seemed stuck at 3.1 miles for running the entire distance. Thanks to a wonderful BRF and a stubborn streak I ran a whole 10k!

Lisa Buck: I have recently learned that not every run HAS to be a race against myself.

Congrats ladies! Email us at runmother [at] gmail [dot] com with your address, and we’ll get them sent off. Many happy, well-fueled miles to you this weekend.

Wise words to remember when training for a race.

Though I’m about to run my fourth marathon—one week from this Saturday!—and I’ve run a good number of shorter race distances throughout the past seven years, this latest training effort marks just the second time I’ve wanted to really, truly, well, own the race. More specifically: I’ve not only wanted to own this race, I’ve also been willing to put in the tough work to (hopefully) achieve this ambitious goal.

Which is why I gravitated toward the Train Like A Mother—you guessed it—Marathon: Own It training plan.

Did I mention yet that I am beyond excited-nervous about my big goal and this race that’s just 10 days away? I am. Very much so.

My heart reminds my head (and the butterflies fluttering in my stomach) that I have put in the hard work and that I need to trust my training. There they are, those three words we all repeat in the days and moments leading up to toeing the start line. There are a lot us mother runners partaking in races this spring and summer, and some of us have been cheering one another on over on Twitter with the hashtag #TLAM2013. I turned to this group this week to ask what’s stood out in their trainings. One thing I’ve experienced, and that I tweeted to my fellow BAMRs: speed work isn’t nearly as intimidating to me as it once was. (Whew)

Photo snapped after a 13-miler two weeks out from marathon #4. Doing my best to trust my training.

Being deliberate about speed work—dedicated tempo runs, race pace workouts, strides and pickups are all part of the Marathon: Own It plan—has been new for me, and I’ve found that the more I do, the more familiar they become. (Notice I didn’t say they get “easier.” Familiar, yes. Comfortable, not so much.) It’s not that I hadn’t incorporated speed work into past trainings; I just didn’t do it as consistently. This time around, it all feels so intentional.

A few other training takeaways from me and other mother runners following TLAM training plans (did you know there are plans for the 10K, half-marathon and marathon?):

1.) Ann Deak (@MamaDeak), who is training for a half-marathon, says following a TLAM plan has led to her believing greater distances are in her future: “Long distances are achievable bit by bit. Convinced me I can do a full!” Ann also says she’s learned to listen to her body: “Be graceful toward yourself if you miss a run. Pick up where you left off and go!”

2.) Jenn, a.k.a. @thegreenparent, offers this sage been-there, done-that training advice: “Follow the plan 1 day at a time. Don’t look at the last weeks and freak out!

” I couldn’t agree more, though I know some of  you may like the idea of knowing what’s to come. I found that taking a peek at my longest runs—the Own It Marathon Plan, for example, calls for three 20-milers (gulp)—was helpful, yes, but worrying and ruminating over tougher workouts (for me, tempo runs and other speed work) wasn’t all that wise. Better to mostly take it as came.

3.) Nicole (@nmh1970) shared she liked discovering her race pace through her training: “I love how some of the long runs incorporate RP in the middle. Great to know how that pace feels.” Yes, Nicole, I’m with you. Even after seven years of running and racing, I’ve found race pace to sometimes be elusive, not to mention somewhat changing as your race distances fluctuate season to season and goals evolve as you grow as a runner. It’s been helpful to have training runs that get  you focused on race pace.

4.) One of my BRFs, Holly, who is training for a June half-marathon in northern Michigan, is following the Finish Plan for the second time. “I’m in week 10, and I love it,” she tells me. “I have learned that I actually enjoy the speed work day. I especially love the 3 mile + strides. And I think this will be easy to incorporate when I am not training for anything specific.” She says following this plan also has challenged her to run four times per week.  ”I have always stuck to every other day for 3 days each week. Never would consider running two days in a row – just because I have been so worried about getting injured again. With this plan having the 3 important runs + a 3 mile easy that I can skip if necessary has been great. I can actually say that this round on the plan, I have gotten really comfortable with running a couple days in a row and enjoying having a fourth run. I think it helps my sanity, too.” One final perk for Holly: getting back into a pre-kids cross-training exercise. “Having the XT or fun workouts on the schedule has gotten me back into Pilates. I loved Pilates before kids and hadn’t really done it much since. I have been doing it every week during the plan and I love it!”

5.) Finally, I’ll end with SBS, who kindly shared with me her own experience following the TLAM Marathon: Own It training plan (three times total: Boston, Twin Cities, and most recently, Vancouver). “During every other marathon training, I always reached a burn-out stage. Not on the TLAM plans, despite them having three 20 (or more) mile runs on them (whereas some plans “only” have two). There’s enough variety in the workouts to keep me interested, engaged, and relatively fresh.” I love that she says the training plan’s effect is her ability to finish strong. “Not to #humblebrag, but I feel that’s become my signature move in the last 18 months or so. My finish times are slower than they used to be, but the final quarter of my races are stronger. It’s a joy to pass scores of runners in the final 10K stretch of a marathon!” Amen to that. I could go for that, for sure.

If you’d like to join the #TLAM2013 conversation, head on over to Twitter! We’d love to hear how your training is coming along–the good, the not-so-good, and everything in between. (And if you’d like to wish me luck on my marathon on May 25, I’d happily accept it! I’m @michrunnergirl)

Laurie, ready to run — “In a skirt, of course!”

Laurie Mapp, a Canadian BAMR, is looking forward to getting dirty this summer—she and her husband Darin are signed on to participate in the Mud Hero, an August obstacle course event in Red Deer, a town north of Calgary. Laurie, 37, and her family of five—she and Darin have three boys—live in Spruce Grove, Alberta.

Best recent run: My best recent run was on a Saturday night—the weather was warm, but not too hot, and I was running on a local school track. The track was dusty and boring, but it was an awesome run because my whole family was with me. My husband was running and my boys were playing tag in the park right next to the track. We were just out enjoying time together and getting some exercise at the same time. Beautiful!

Running the track with her three boys.

Her Tri Life: My favorite part of doing triathlons is the challenge—I really had to push hard to complete them and I needed to train very consistently. It kept me from slacking! It’s also easier on my body to do such varied training, rather than running all the time. I might do more sometime, but I’ve put triathlons on hold until I can improve my swim stroke. I did breaststroke in my first two and felt SO slow. We don’t have as many “fun” triathlons nearby, and so the people who do triathlons here feel competitive and fast.

Running with Kiddos: My whole family has benefitted in so many ways—my husband was motivated to take up running after I did and has completed his first half-marathon. He also got into cycling after I bought a bike to train for my tri’s and he found he really loves riding a road bike. My boys see that exercise is fun and a lifelong experience. They are even doing their first race this June—I love knowing I inspire them!

Never runs without: A pretty skirt and a sparkly headband. Feeling good about how I look running gets me out the door.

Most Favorite Race Distance: 10K, for sure. I like that it doesn’t require crazy amounts of training time. My husband is gone a lot and long runs are often on my treadmill while my kids play nearby. There were some days that were tough when I trained for my last half. My oldest is pretty much ready to help with babysitting this summer, though, so that might make a difference in making training time easier to fit in.

Running (and Getting Muddy) with her Hubby: My husband and I have raced 5Ks together before – we try to annually do a local New Year’s Day run—and we were supposed to do our first half-marathon together, but I ended up with pneumonia and he had to do it alone! As for the mud/obstacle run we’re doing, the allure is definitely in the strength elements required. It is pushing us both to add more strength training in to our weekly schedules. Plus it just looks like so much fun!

Follow This Mother on Twitter, at her blog Laurie Runs Life, and on Instagram.

The SkinFare line-up: helping your skin while not harming the environment.

In my childhood backyard, hidden under the lush, spreading branches of a gargantuan evergreen, lay Magic Potion Land. My best friend from preschool, Paul King, and I had dubbed the enchanted area, where we mixed together rose petals, acorn caps, pine needles, and water in old mayonnaise jars. Towheaded Paul and I stood side-by-side in the cool shade, our blond heads nearly touching as we intently stirred our potions with dirt-flecked sticks. We murmured notions about what the magical formulas could do—allow us to fly; cause us shrink to the size of mice; tame deer and rabbits to eat out of our hands; make us so smart we’d know everything in the whole wide world; cure cancer. My most vivid early memories are from those endless afternoons creating potions with Paul.

SkinFare Topical Nourishment: my BFF post-marathon

I suspect Kara Errickson from SkinFare was a like-minded tinkerer as a child: The products her North Carolina company creates seem almost as magical—but they’re real. SkinFare is five varieties of coconut oil-based skincare sticks made only from organic ingredients. Each stick contains a different blend of essential oils, including invigorating rosemary, sweet chamomile, spicy nutmeg, bracing spearmint, and comforting sage. SkinFare blends these ingredients into five magic sticks that do everything from moisturizing rough cuticles to easing razor burn to soothing diaper rash. Ever since sweating through 26.2 hot miles in Vancouver, B.C., on May 5, I’ve been diligently applying Topical Nourishment to the inevitable chafing under my bra and my hydration belt. (Not sure if belt or zippered rear pocket under it—or hotel key-card in it–is to blame for the wicked abrasion.) Before bedtime, I rub Heirloom Elixir onto my calloused heels to wake up with prettier, more sandal-worthy feet.

Founder Kara even spread her magic touch to the SkinFare packaging: The sticks are served up in push-up tubes made from recycled, biodegradable cardboard.

Thanks to today’s giveaway, you can get a “taste” (don’t really eat these delicious-smelling skincare sticks!) of SkinFare: Two winners will each get one of each of the five SkinFare sticks, along with a T-shirt. With one of each variety, you can find your favorite, as well as stash them throughout your everyday haunts (nightstand, diaper bag, gym locker, etc.) so that one of these skin-nourishing tools are never far from hand. To enter to win, tell us what fragrance calms and heals you. We all know a whiff of a familiar, comforting scent can ease the stress of everyday life–tell us what fragrance flips your soothing-switch. (Please enter your response on the Comments section of our website: Hitting “reply” if you’re reading this on your mobile device is not a legit entry. Sorry!)

Pretty is as pretty does.

[Some fine print for this fine prize.] This sweepstakes is open to those over 18 and residents of the United States and Canada. It begins on 5/15/13 and ends on 5/21/13; the winners will be announced on 5/25/13. One entry per person. The value of each prize is $60. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Void where prohibited by law.