Mud Run

So the whole family drove into Anchorage for the Mud Run on Saturday and we all had a wonderful time. Joseph, Addie, and I did not participate, just commuted among the bubble table, the hot dog grill, and the finish line.

I have no idea why she wanted to shed her dress and play only in bloomers. It's a toddler thing.

The weather was perfect, 70 degrees and windy, which meant that I kept my hoody on and sunburned my face. Ken ran the 2K mini-muddy with the younger kids, first time they'd done anything like it before (formal, that is; they run and jump and climb and crawl through mud daily). I wasn't sure if they would get weird and pout and walk back to the park, but as the minutes ticked by, I was pretty sure they were staying the course (designed by Ken, BTW!). We were waiting at exactly the right time to see Luke, then Ian, then Clare (and Ken) slog through the Skinny Raven arch ~ beaming! I was so happy they not only did it, but loved it, I was choked up.

Then Ken (again), Rees, and John gathered for the adult 5K. No problem there. Those three do mud all the time (and mountains and alders and boulder fields and ...).

John, always the coolest.

Rees, the muddiest.

Ken ran with a backpack. Because Ken.

I'm glad to help build that playground for ACMHS. Good things happen one ticket, one T shirt, one donation at a time by regular people.

Since I was milling around with two cute toddlers, a rottweiler, and a pit bull, I met all kinds of interested bystanders, security personnel, and volunteers: from agency folks tickled to meet Ken's family to strangers commenting on the Howell circus. One friendly lady told me that she budgets for the summer charity run circuit and signs up for as many as she can afford, knowing that the local causes are grateful for community-love. Everyone wins. Now I'm smitten and want to do this, too, adding a few family runs in between camping trips. Only if the weather's perfect, though. I'm not ambitious about it; just after some sort of social, outdoor feng shui thing that I just made up.

Here's to good health (especially Rees and Addie), good communities, and good familes ~ let's find out where to help. And here is the (very long) list of Alaska runs that I'm going to pore through and pick a few for us.

Have a great day, friends,
Love, Allison

PS ~ I see that I have pictures of everyone but Joseph. He was probably hanging out by the hot dog grill, pretending that he hadn't already eaten two.

Just Wrestling?

I thought I understood about boys and violence. For the past three months, I've listened raptly to their stories of wrestling club practice. I've smeared lotion on their mat burns and scrapes, clucking sympathetically and proud of their swagger. I've exclaimed over the tough-looking singlets (but I don't tell them how adorable they look; not manly...):

Can you stand the cuteness??? Living room practice.

And then I watched them compete at the end-of-season state-wide tournament.

I was sniveling female mess. I was mad at the opponents for being mean to my sons (They weren't.); I was mad at my sons for being afraid (They weren't.); I was mad at the coaches for being mad at my sons (They weren't.). Due to hundreds of wrestlers and hours of waiting, I watched other boys' matches and was mad at the aggressive ones, mad at the shouting parents, and mad at the referees for pumping the winners' fists in the air (Hey, that makes the other kid feel bad.). Clearly, I'm a softie who wants everyone to get a trophy for trying and doesn't like making a big deal of winning. So far, our family has only been involved in individual endeavors like martial arts, cross-country skiing, hiking, and hunting. I am a bad sports mother. I kind of hope they don't want to wrestle any more.

Yesterday had only my littlest boys competing (Joseph, 4 and Luke, 7). At this very moment, I am skipping today's matches, where Ian, almost 10 and John, 16 are wrestling. They're bigger; they have more muscles; they'll hit the floor harder. I can't handle it.

I told all these feelings to Ken last night and he stared, practically slack-jawed at me and tried very hard not to smile. "Honey, it's just wrestling," he said softly. Clearly, I'm a girl.

I know and believe in all the rough-and-tough stuff for boys. I want them to be protectors, comfortable and proud of their physical strength that mirrors virtuous strength . I just don't want to watch wrestling anymore. I'll make sure to have the correct potions and ointments and snacks and a listening ear for when they're home. I'm the mommy, not the coach!

Here is a link to our club, which has very nice and helpful coaches. Very strong and scary, too, but it's OK if men are a little scary. Go Arctic Warriors! Go boys!

And now I've got to get a good snack ready for the after-tournament debriefing...

Happy weekend!
Allison