Mud Run

I signed up to do a mud run with some of the women from church. We decided to wear a pink shirt so that we could easily identify each other on the course.

This is what we looked like before the race.

This is what we looked like after.

Mud runs are really gigantic obstacle courses with lots of water and dirt involved. At one point the course required us to roll around in the mud. By the time we finished we couldn't tell who had a pink shirt and who did not. Everything was the color of mud.

This race involved a sludge like substance that did NOT smell good. I grew up on a farm. I recognize that smell. It was nasty!

There is something to be said about getting down and dirty with some of my friends and neighbors. In a strange way we bonded out on that course covered in grime.

I will say a long warm shower at home never felt so good!

Duck Commander

I LOVE the show Duck Dynasty!

Maybe it is the small town girl in me.  Maybe it is the fact that I grew up in a family of hunters. Maybe it is the fact the show is hilarious! What ever it is, I have this strange fascination with a family of multi-millionaire rednecks in Louisiana. So after a quick google search we found the Duck Commander headquarters on our way to church.

For those of you who are wondering, yes, the duck decoys are still on the roof.

Since it was Sunday morning there weren't any Robertsons around and the store was closed. There were several other yuppie tourists in the parking lot taking photos near the sign.

We saw the RV and semi....

the snowcone shack.....

and the lawnmower race track.

I even took my camo shirt so I wouldn't look like such a yuppie girl. The problem is that I had to put it on over my dress and ended up looking like an even bigger yuppie.

My kids refused to get out of the car while we were there and when I put on the camo shirt, they were hiding under the seats. I feel like it is the duty of the mother to embarrass her children. I'm glad I accomplished my mission.

Hey. All I have to say is being there made me happy happy happy. Jack.

This One's For the Girl

My sister invited me to be part of her team for the Race for the Cure. Laurann has done this race for several years. I was glad it finally worked out for me to join her. My sister-in-law Kim and I went to Laurann's house the night before. We had dinner, went to a Body Combat class, did a little shopping, and spent some time in her hot tub.

Saturday morning we went to the Gateway in Salt Lake City with 17,000 other participants.

Here is a photo of us before the race started.

We were all there to celebrate womanhood and to help find a way to fight breast cancer. On one hand, this race isn't too serious. It's hard to not laugh when you see a man wearing a pink tutu with a shirt that reads, "Tutus for the Tatas" or the man with a shimmery pink pink bra on that reads, "Support breast cancer." I think I heard every single slang term for female anatomy and then some. The Honorary Chair for the race also chooses to fight cancer with humor. Her website is http://www.somuchmoreonline.com/.

On the other hand, this race is very serious as you see fathers & sons running in memory of their wife & mother, children running in memory of their grandma, and the sign at the end of the race with a name that read, "For two years we walked with her. Now we walk for her," Throughout the day I found myself laughing one minute and crying the very next.

Breast cancer survivors are given special shirts and hats with pink ribbons on the brim to mark the number of years they have been a survivor. They are placed on pedastals, as they should be. Many of the participants run in memory of or in celebration of a loved one. Kim ran in memory of her aunt. I ran in celebration of Brooke, a co-worker of mine who was diagnosed with breast cancer last year. Brooke held her head high and taught me about courage and endurance. Brooke's mother died of breast cancer a few months ago.

I went to the race not knowing what to expect. I came home inspired by women everywhere. I have decided to make it an  annual tradition. Thanks to all the women who choose to fight like a girl.