Thursday, July 25, 2013

The Newest Race Craze.. or not.

People are really into multi-dimensional races these days. Triathlons, Spartan races, Color runs.. everywhere you look there is a new way to run a race.  I get that this is fun for people.. interesting to train for, and a way to keep things fresh while competing.

These people have clearly never tried to run with three kids, one in a jogger, two on bikes, on any given week night.

Because if they had, I assure you, they would be happy to run 15k straight, with only your music and thoughts to distract you. 

Last night we took all three kids while we went for a run.  Here is a brief rundown of what’s sure to never catch on as an actual sport. 

The Brittany 5K.

-First 0-5 minutes:

“Do you have the baby?”


“Ok let’s go!”

“Wait.. where’s Belle?”

“I don’t know.. BELLLLLEEE”

Belle comes running from neighbor’s backyard.

“Ok get your helmet on, we are going for a run.”

“Can I ride my plastic trike”

“NO!! Get your helmet and get on your real bike.  Wait.. where’s Ben now??!”


Appears from behind the truck, already on his bike, ready to go.

“Ok let’s go”

“I think Grady pooped…”

5-7 mins:

Changing diaper

7-10 mins:

Running going well.  We are half way down the street when I realize Grady has slid down in the jogger.  Quick pause-half run while I sort him out and Mike pushes the stroller.

Now Belle got distracted and we almost rear end her.  She thinks this is hilarious and keeps zig-zagging in front of us and stopping to look at all the beautiful flowers (dandelions).

10-15 mins:

Damn it.  I can hear it and I hope the kids don’t notice.  

They do.

Ice cream truck.

Whining, speeding up and slowing down at intervals to tell us what bad parents we are.  I’m tempted to point out the super chubby people and tell them that’s why we aren't stopping but instead keep my nasty inner thoughts to myself and tell them we have snacks at home.

Whining continues and the anger builds and the kids keep cutting us off at random intervals.  I'm now yell/gasping at them to quit it.

15-20 mins:

Man down.  Belle can’t navigate corners well and has done a header into the stop sign post.  There are tears, and a lot of “You’re fines” and she’s back up and riding......  Super.  Slow.

People drinking beer while moving have left their giant truck on the sidewalk.  Detour.  


Belle refuses to turn while pedaling now and is off, and walking.  

I'm pleased to be stopped and super sweaty in front of people drinking beer with my daughter and her princess bike, sparkly clothes and streamers while gently prodding the slow poke forward.

20-25 mins:

Ben’s turn.  A trench he didn't see as he was making faces at Grady in the jogger. He's quick to hop up and ride away towards Mike, the jogger and Grady.  Belle is back up on her bike and we are back on pace again.  

Meanwhile Grady is blowing snot bubbles that are so alarming people are stopping to point it out.  Kids are getting a good laugh.  He’s also sliding down again.  He doesn't care, he’s out with the family living life full of boogers.

Another little girl is so entranced by Grady and his bubbles she falls directly on our path requiring parental assistance.  Detour #2.


Can see home.  Belle has totally pooped out and I decide to leave her behind since we are almost there. 

Getting up a little momentum when our horrible neighbors sick their dog on me. 

Ok they aren’t horrible at all, actually they are wonderful.  But Zena did come flying out giving me a perfect opportunity to stop and pet her, thus giving up entirely and ending my run in front of their house. 

Cool Down:

We went inside to stretch and Mike bossed me while I was doing squats trying to fix my ‘technique”.

I told him “I watch a lot of videos Mike.  I think I know what I’m doing”.  

He gives me the “I’m smarter than you about this look” and I give in only because he has a degree in working out. 

Or, what he calls, “Kinesiology”. 

But after the run we just had, the whining, that stupid ice cream truck song that is on loop in my head, I end with clever and mature line that always comes out of my mouth when working out together:

“Whatever.  You’re not the boss of me.”

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