May 2018

Taking a Load Off: Running After Breast Reduction

running after breast reduction

Any woman who’s undergone breast-reduction surgery—or who is contemplating it—knows the number 1 reason to downsize: to get rid of pain.

Carrying around a pair of big, big boobs can cause back and shoulder pain, shortness of breath, numbness and tingling in the arms and hands. Running, alas, exacerbates all of those problems.

“The most common reason to get breast reduction is back pain,” says Marci A. Goolsby, M.D., primary care sports medicine physician at the Women’s Sports Medicine Center at the Hospital for Special Surgery in New York City, “which is particularly true if you’re doing sports.”

And though sports bras have improved markedly over the past decade or so—hallelujah!—there are still the issues of thick straps digging into shoulders and sweat accumulation causing bloody chafing. Ouch.

And also, not for nothing, there’s the sad truth of how some people can make a big-busted woman feel about running (or any exercise, for that matter).

“Honestly, it was embarrassing to be that well-endowed,” says Bonnie Hancock, 52, of Cleveland, Tennessee, who had reduction 19 years ago. “People—well, men, really—making jokes about, ‘You’re going to give yourself a black eye!’ Har-har.”

Bonnie (far right), her husband, and two kids ran Atlanta’s Peachtree Road Race 10K in 2014.

At 5’8’’, Bonnie wore an ill-fitting 34E bra because “I refused to buy anything bigger.” She ran in two sports bras from which she has permanent indentations in her shoulders. “It was impossible to find tops and bras that fit and offered support,” she says. The numbness her heavy breasts caused in her arms made her think she was having a heart attack. She sought medical advice; breast-reduction surgery was deemed a medical necessity and fortunately was covered by insurance.

To run with her 36F rack, Carrie Seningen, of Manassas, Virginia, who stands just 4’10’’, had to strap on three bras. “I don’t miss those days,” she says. She suffered excruciating back pain.

“I went to physical therapists, I went to a chiropractor, nothing was working,” Carrie says. “Finally, I saw a surgeon, and he said, ‘Oh yeah, we can solve this.’”

More than a decade after her reduction, Carrie runs pain free. And has fun! If that’s what you call doing the Dopey Challenge of 5K, 10K, half and full marathon!

Carrie’s surgery was in 2002. Now a 42-year-old facilities manager, she is grateful to run without pain, but cautions other BAMRS contemplating reduction surgery to respect the process.

Taking a load off your chest is a big deal.

Breast reduction surgery removes excess breast fat, glandular tissue, and skin to achieve a more proportionate size and reduce pain associated with excessively large breasts, which actually has an official term—macromastia.

“It’s a pretty traumatic surgery,” Carrie says. “The post-surgery pain was pretty significant. I was bruised for weeks.”

At the time Carrie’s kids were 1 and 3. “Mommy couldn’t do much,” she says. “I couldn’t lift the kids, or vacuum, or even use the bathroom without my husband’s support. I needed round-the-clock care for about nearly two weeks.” Which is hard when you’ve got a household with toddlers.

It took six weeks for Carrie’s pain to subside. Bonnie, who went down to 34C, started running a little at a time about three months after her surgery.

Every woman’s story will be different.

Clearance from your surgeon is the number one issue,” says Dr. Goolsby. “You need her to tell you when the tissues are healed enough for you to take on impact sports.”

No, really, you have to wait. “The risk of running before your surgeon has cleared you is opening the wound, opening the incision,” Dr. Goolsby says. “You may look at your incision and think that it is perfectly healed, but there’s a potential for going out too early and damaging the tissues deep inside.”

running after breast reduction

[From New York Center for Facial Plastic and Laser Surgery.]

But how lonnnnnng do you have to wait? There’s no easy answer. “Your surgeons are waiting to see as well,” says Dr. Goolsby. “They might be able to say, ‘I think you’ll be able to run in [blank] weeks,’ but they will still want to see you first.”

And this seems kind of obvious, but it bears repeating: You’ll need new sports bras!

“Your DD isn’t going to fit right,” says Dr. Goolsby. “It’s like sending a patient to get a good pair of running shoes. There are different levels of support. You have to try on what feels supportive and comfortable for you. You may want different sports bras for different activities. You have to think about, ‘What’s my current breast size and what is comfortable?’”

Carrie, now a 34C, learned this by trial and error herself. “Even though I had a reduction, I still needed the right bra,” she says. “You have to take care of your breasts after surgery, or they won’t stay looking as pretty. I bought a bra from [low-cost big-box store]. And a friend who is a marathoner said, NO! She took me to get a more-supportive sports bra from a specialty retailer, and I couldn’t believe the difference. It was liberating! Time came off my pace. How crazy is that? A bra can do that!”

Carrie swears by the Brooks (formerly Moving Comfort) Fiona. But you have to find the best fit for YOU.

Today, Bonnie Hancock, a retired elementary school principal, has created a life around running: She has completed 30 marathons, many half-marathons, and an Ironman triathlon. She’s a member of the 50 States club. She and her husband travel to races. They raised their kids, now 21 and 25, as runners.

“I look at all the friendships and the life we have built.  I wouldn’t have stuck with running because it was too painful and uncomfortable,” Bonnie says. “After the surgery, I was so much more comfortable in my own skin, more confident, and no more numbness and pain.”

Was it worth it, Bonnie? “Oh my goodness, YES!”

Have you had a breast reduction?
If so, what advice would you add?

Plantar Fasciitis 2.0: A Tale from Sarah

Strolling with Auggie on Mother’s Day in my beloved cushy Oofos.

In the spring of 2011, after running three half-marathons in quick succession, including the Ogden Half-Marathon, I was hobbled by plantar fasciitis. Like drop-to-my-knees-in-agony PF.

After nearly three decades in the sport, it was my first sidelining injury from running (yeah, yeah, hate me)—and it scared the stuffing out of me. I vividly remember how the pain would build up the more time I spent on my feet: After hours of standing and coaching my Girls on the Run protégés at their culmination 5K—a popular evening race in downtown Portland—I nearly cried on the bus ride home. My right heel throbbed and hurt so badly, I winced with every gimpy step I took. After taking several months off running, then easing back into it, I was finally pain free about eight months later. At its peak, my 2011 PF pain was an 8 on a scale of 1-to-10; I was running regularly on it by the time it got to about a 3.

Seven years older, and I’ve grown more cautious. Thus when a PF-ish twinge hit my left heel in late March, I only ran on it for a few days before sidelining myself. My last run was on March 31. I told my BRF, Molly,—and myself—I was taking off the month of April from running. But after diligent, daily foam rolling, twice-a-day Aleve, and basically living in Oofos sandals and shoes, the discomfort (I can’t even call it “pain”—more on that in a moment) remained the same, so I’m now nearing the end of Month 2 of No Running.

I’m still plenty active: I’ve just had to remind myself there are other athletic endeavors than our beloved running. I’m now a Cyclebar devotee, sweating through at least two classes per week, and taking a variety of strength classes. I’ve snuck in swims on many of my travels (including 2x at our Ogden Retreat!), and I recently started cycling outdoors. It’s a rough time of year to not be running—early sunrise, vivid flowers, trees flush with lush new leaves, cool morning temps—but I’ve got a new routine, and I’m holding steady. Most importantly: I’m not in limp-everywhere-while-gritting-my-teeth pain.

Back to the more-cautious thing: As I said, my 2011 PF pain was a strong 8, and I resumed running when it ducked below a 3. This time around, my discomfort has never even approached a 3, hovering around a 1. Sometimes spiking at 2, but often times dropping to 0. So I ask myself why I’m still not running.

Fear. Plain + simple.

I keep coming back to the fear that gripped me during my original battle with plantar fasciitis. I’ve met enough of you lovely ladies at expos, parties, and Retreats who tell horror stories of years-long bouts of PF to know this bugger-ailment can linger longer than a wart on a preschooler’s hand. I’m not willing to do-si-do with the pain/discomfort: I want it gone, and I want it gone for good. (Or at least another seven years—PF can be to this runner what cicadas are to the eastern U.S.!)

I toyed with the idea of resuming running—well, walk-running—today. But even though my foot can’t decipher a calendar, my current plan is to wait until Saturday. It feels right to take off a full two months.

Here’s hoping that’s not the only thing that feels right when I run.

How about you: Have you suffered through plantar fasciitis?
If so, how’d you approach it?

#313: How to Find Your Ideal Running Race

Sarah and co-host Amanda Loudin are joined by Coach MK Fleming of the Train Like a Mother Club to discuss how to choose a great running race for you. The trio covers a variety of considerations, such as geography, weather, terrain, crowd size, corral policies, and more. Coach MK shares when it’s smart to adjust your expectations. The ladies’ opinions about downhill races might surprise you. Coach Amanda stresses the importance of knowing yourself and what kind of runner you are when it comes to tolerating inclement weather conditions. Laugh along with SBS at MK’s “ultraviolet sandwich” analogy. Learn that “good enough” is often pretty awesome, and find out why MK is a proponent of extra-long training plans. Garner valuable insight about some banner races, including NYC, Marine Corps, Big Sur, and Richmond marathons. Here are the two race-review sites SBS recommends: BibRave and RaceRaves.

In the intro, Sarah and Amanda rehash Ogden Retreat memories (including karaoke!) and SBS talks TSwift concert. The trio dives into the choosing-a-race debate at 21:15.

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Dry Martini: Racing and Retreating in Pittsburgh and Ogden

A marathon in five words.

I spent the better part of January, February, and March running in circles on the indoor track so that I’d be prepared for all of the outdoor running I planned to do in the spring. What I didn’t know is that I was also training for some endurance-testing travel — but more on that in a minute.

I’ve already gushed on and on about Seneca 7. It was freezing and slushy and gross. Mostly, it was epic. I hope the dice roll my way and I can do it again in 2019. This time around, I’ll pack some spare van shoes and even more (more!) snacks.

I had just enough time to do a mountain of laundry, re-pack, and head down to Pittsburgh, my hometown, for the half marathon. Five years ago, this particular half was the first I ever ran. It’s how this column was born, too.

For those who don’t follow every in-and-out of my writing career (which I hope would be all of you because, seriously, it’s not that interesting), I met SBS and Dimity at the Albany-area AMR party months before I’d dreamed of running a half. I pitched a couple of stories to them but nothing really stuck until a few months after the party, when I floated the idea of training for 13.1 and writing about it. The rest, as they say, is history.

Five years on, the Pittsburgh race still holds a dear place in my heart. And feet. And lungs. It’s not the easiest course to embrace. Just when you crest one hill, another steeper one is ready to pounce. The crowd support can get a little thin in some neighborhoods. Still, those streets are mine and I’m proud to be a five-time runner of steel.

This year, though, I just wasn’t feeling it. I went into the race weekend thinking that I’d just rather … not. I dreaded standing in a starting corral with 40,000 of my closest friends. I didn’t want to meander through Lawrenceville and the Strip and the North Side. I didn’t feel like dealing with the rain, which was certain to move in before I was across the finish line.

I did want to run the bridges. I always want to run bridges and the day that I don’t you should maybe check my pulse because I might be dead. I did not, however, want to run the bits around the bridges.

This particular bridge could use a coat of paint. Still a thrill.

Because I wanted a fifth medal of steel and my BRF Lisa wanted her first, I laced up and ran. I didn’t attack the course with any real sense of purpose; rather, I took in the sights and sounds of all 13.1 miles. I felt pretty great, frankly, and felt zero pressure to do anything but cross the finish.

Which is why it took me the better part of the day to realize I’d set six-minute personal best on the course. SIX MINUTES. I actually had to look up my previous official times because I simply didn’t believe what Strava was telling me. But there it was.

I’m sure there’s some great running lesson in there somewhere. I’ll leave it to our own Justin Ross to tease it out.

Two weeks later, I was off to Ogden for the AMR Retreat. I’m not going to gush on and on and on about how fulfilling and inspiring it was (even though it really, really was both of those things) but I will hope these pictures convey a few thousand words.

Coach Amanda, three-quarters of the Kansas City crew, and I hiked into the mountains on Friday. The scenery was worth the climb.

Race day! I think I got the prettiest leg.

The view from my bed.

Then this happened. Yes, that is Sarah.

I wouldn’t have missed any of those moments for the world. Which is good, because my travel karma this trip was in the depths of a honey bucket.

Outbound, I nearly missed my flight because of two car accidents that left I-90 a literal parking lot. I hit the check-in counter with literally 20 minutes to drop off my bag, get through security, and get my behind on the plane. Which I managed. Barely.

There’s always some part of travel that gets all FUBAR. I figured that was it and I’d be GTG on the way home.

How naive I was.

My initial itinerary took me from SLC to DEN to ALB, which would have arrived at midnight eastern on Sunday. I made it to SLC with time to spare, even though I had to undergo the full pat-down and bag search at security. Katie, who was on the Denver-bound flight, too, said she was surprised that the flight looked like it would be on time. That, my friends, is a phrase that should never be uttered.

The flight was delayed five minutes. Then 20. Then was diverted to Ogden to refuel. Then the tail winds picked up in and Salt Lake’s runways were closed. Then I threw myself on the mercy of Nancy at customer service who did her best to work every permutation we could think of before realizing that my best option was to give up and try a new series of flights on Monday.

Me, my luggage, and a random hotel near the airport. As one does.

Monday started waaaaaay too early, mind, but, again, made it to the airport with time to spare, which was good because I got the full pat-down and bag search again. The plan was Chicago-Midway to Albany, where I’d land at 4:55 p.m. The Chicago leg went off without a hitch until our final landing approach. The pilot had to pull-up at nearly the last minute because the wind was weird.

That maneuver is as … exciting … as you’d imagine. I didn’t wet my pants but it was a near thing.

We diverted to St. Louis because the plane needed more fuel. And, I suspect, the pilot needed a nice cool towel for his sweaty head and hands. An hour later, we were back in the air to Chicago, which left me 15 minutes to get to my Albany flight.

Thanks to fartleks and tempo miles, I made it. And landed in Albany bang on time.

I texted my husband, who was driving me the hour back home, and waited by baggage claim. And waited. And waited. And nearly put my head on the counter and burst into tears when the baggage claim lady let me know that she had no idea where my suitcase was and that paperwork would be involved.

I told you all of that for two reasons:

  1. It was an adventure. I was never unsafe–just incredibly displaced.
  2. EVEN with all of that bedlam, my high from the weekend retreating with BAMRs isn’t dimmed at all. (Plus, their comments on my real-time Facebook posts about the various insults from the sky gods helped keep me moving.)

My luggage got to go to Newark and Syracuse and Binghamton without me. I’m so proud that it held it together on its own.

My luggage, by the way, turned up at my house on Wednesday. My stinky running clothes had an extra few days to marinate and are even more fragrant that you’d suspect. They are in with all of the Sweat X ever as I type this. Fingers crossed!

So … what’s your most recent travel mishap? Or do you have a race PR you’d like to share? 

10 Best Tips for Buying New Running Shoes

My favorite for a few years—loved the colors!—until my feet fell out of love for some unkownable reason.

When I started training for my first marathon way back in the Dark Ages of the late 1980s, I was a dating a moderately successful writer who preferred a chemical high to an endorphin-induced high. Even HE knew that I needed a “real” pair of running shoes and how to score them.

Writer-man took me to a local running-shoe store full of scary skinny serious runner dudes (and they were all dudes back then), who looked at my feet (the horror) and my old sneakers (the horror), asked me all kinds of questions about my mileage and surface preferences (huh?), brought out a few pairs of sneakers for me to try on, and watched me run.

I hate to hang a story on a writer-man, especially one who prefers chemicals to endorphins, but what can I tell you? I was young and impressed with moderate fame. He bought me good running shoes. (Then I ditched him … for a runner! Oof. Sorry, writer-man.)

Of course, back in the Dark Ages, there was no Internet for the masses, no free shipping/free returns, no big box stores full of deeply discounted bargain bins, no online reviews to parse and compare, no half-off last-year’s models (of dubious origin) on the world’s largest marketing website.

And yet still TODAY—not in the Dark Ages—if you were to ask the Runner-in-Chief of Runner’s World where to get running shoes, this is what he would tell you: “Your local running store is the best place to start.”

I know because I asked him!

Nina got fitted for her first pair of “real” running shoes at our local shop on her ninth birthday (2013)! Note the vintage Stop Pre poster in the background.

Jeff Dengate: “The number 1 shoe-buying tip I always give is: Go to your local running store to get properly fit. For total beginners, a shop full of skinny, fast runners can be incredibly intimidating. That can make it tempting to snag a pair from a big box store or a discount bin, but if you end up with an uncomfortable shoe, you won’t enjoy running. The staff there can measure your foot and let you try on plenty of options so you’re more likely to find a pair that works for you and feels comfortable.”

But running shoes are exxxxxpennnsivvve, you say. And buying them is no fun.

Who wants to spend more than $100 on a pair of ***sneakers*** you can wear for only a limited percentage of your waking hours?

You do. And so do I. Because the problem is, if we run in a pair of shoes that are worn down in the heels, or are a little too narrow in the toe box, or come up too high around the ankles, or cause the ball of our feet to burn, or have been in the back of our closet for how many years, we are at best going to be uncomfortable and unhappy.

At worst, we risk the dread “I” word—injury! [screaming face emoji]

Think of it this way: A new pair of running shoes is a lot less expensive than knee surgery.

I ran to the bookstore in new shoes to get this book for Nina, who was in 5th grade in 2015. You know what that means, right? I need to …

How to Buy Running Shoes

1. Make the time

The amazing Matt Walsh, a near-elite runner (profiled in Runner’s World!), used to manage the local Sneaker Factory. He was so thorough divining the absolute perfect shoe for MY foot. (And yes, I paid for running shoes from my local running shop even when I worked at RW.) It took For.Ev.Er.

Pro tip: Avoid weekends if at all possible, because if you’re lucky enough to get someone as good as Matt, you may have to wait for him to finish up with a previous customer.

2. Bring your patience

Don’t try to fit in a shoe fitting after you drop your daughter at swim practice before going to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for dinner. See above.

3. Go later in the day

Even better if you already ran. Your feet swell during the day. You want shoes that fit your biggest feet.

4. Bring your socks

Whatever you like to run in (we love cushy Balegas!)

5. Bring your previously worn shoes

A good running-shoe fitter will look at the make and model and the wear pattern for clues.

Your socks don’t HAVE to match your shoes, but I was quite Pleased With Self.

6. Throw out your perceived “size”

You may wear a size 7 street shoe but a size 8.5 running shoe. Try to remain calm. Your feet need that extra room for when you’re slapping your 2.5 times your body weight with every step you take. You may have seen your feet change sizes as you got pregnant, had babies, gained and lost weight.

7. Speaking of age

Around age 40, women start losing fat in their heels (among other indignities). This may mean you need more cushioning in your shoes than you did, say, back in the Dark Ages.

8. Buy for “feel” not style

Possibly the most important point: Your shoes need to feel good on YOUR feet. My perfect shoes aren’t yours; reviews in magazines or websites can give you an indicator (maybe) of what to try, but IRL, an exact same pair of running shoes is going to be dream for one person and a nightmare for the next. As tempting as it is, you can’t buy for cute colors, or a discounted price.

9. Only run in them

What? Now that you’ve spent more than $100 for a comfortable pair of well-fitting running shoes that nicely hug your arch, fit around your heel without slipping, and allow your toes to wiggle happily, you can’t wear them ALL THE TIME?

No. Sorry. These are your RUNNING shoes. If you wear them all day every day, they will cease to be good for running.

See these holes? Three years old! I know I need to throw them out!

Worn-out cuffs? BUY NEW SHOES.

 

10. DON’T WAIT

Newbies may feel like a mildewy old pair of sneakers rattling around in the basement would work just fine for 2 miles. (No.) Forgetful veteran marathoners may forget to track how many miles they’ve run and wake up one week before race day thinking, “Wait! I need new shoes!” (Oh right, that was me.)

*** (Random, braggy) FOOTNOTE: Running shoes or sneakers? Aren’t the words interchangeable? In my Runner’s World years (2003-2017), we weren’t allowed to use “sneakers.” I can’t remember why. As it happens, I am in the Merriam-Websters dictionary using the word “sneaker,” in the intransitive verb definition of the word “rule.” The sum total of my 15 minutes of fame. HA.

slang : to be extremely cool or popular —used as a generalized term of praise or approval

for a little attitude at the right price, sneakers rule
—Tish Hamilton

Thanks, Merriam-Webster!

Another Mother Runner Retreat: Ogden, Utah

We are barely 24 hours back to “real life” after our Another Mother Runner: Run + Refresh Retreat in Ogden, Utah, and already, like Eddie Money, I want to go back and do it all over.

But since I can’t go back I know, let’s collectively relive it with lots of pics, okay?

Building up pre-retreat excitement—and getting familiar with people’s faces, like Mary + Allison + Andrew, hotel manager extraordinaire—by posting almost-there! pics on the Facebook page.

Another Mother Runner Retreat

First order of business: unpack the stocked swag bags, which included Balega Socks, Nuun + Gu galore, SweatX Sports DetergentAfterShokz Trekz Air headphones, a little Chosen Foods Avocado Oil, and an Ogden Marathon hat. (And not pictured? A limited-edition AMR Run Utah sweatshirt.)

Huge thanks, as always, to our partners who love the BAMR tribe as much as we do, and to the GOAL Foundation + Visit Ogden for helping us host this lovely weekend.

Another Mother Runner Retreat

Second order of business: EAT! Such delicious, nourishing food all weekend long. (Ellie would’ve been proud!)

Another Mother Runner Retreat

Our first night together, the BAMRS got to know each other via a short, collective biography, an exercise dreamed up by author Amy Krause Rosenthal;  divided into small groups, the ladies had to find things they all had in common:

Some of the statements from the evening:

We’ve all run an extra mile so we don’t have to go home.

All of us our missing our dogs right now.

We’ve all been broken by the death of a loved one, and nurtured a new life. 

Sometimes we leave dirty dishes and just take off.

We all like Amazon, especially Amazon prime.

We sometimes don’t love running until we’re done. 

Another Mother Runner RetreatNot one, but two live podcasts: one that focused on tapering, one that focused on having a great race day. On both panels was Dr. Justin Ross, a #fatherrunner and sports psychologist, who talked about among other things, how to cast your mind’s spotlight and why clarity at the starting line is so key.

Pre-race activities included three amazing educational sessions: first up was Pelvic Floor Health with Julie Weibe, who connected the pelvic floor to the breath and nearly every other muscle in the body, including those in the lower back, hips, and, of course, the b*d*ss.

Another Mother Runner Retreat

 Second up, a 90-minute session with Kolleen Riddick of Trigger Point therapy; she leaves no muscle, ligament or tendon behind. A Perform Like a Mother session with Dr. Justin Ross rounded out the educational portion of the retreat. (Read: keep your pre-race mind occupied with actives that will help you thrive.Another Mother Runner Retreat

A foursome—Camille, Mary, Cleary + Ashlee—striking a pose before our short shake-out run on Friday. We think they collectively have a future as AMR/Aftershokz models.

Another Mother Runner Retreat

 Petra Goofing it up as Coach Amanda warmed us up on pre-shake-out run. 

Put your hands up if you love being a BAMR in Ogden!

Another Mother Runner Retreat

 Picking up our VIP Bibs (read: a special bus right to the start, free post-race massages, and other perks) at the expo, we had to snap some goofy pics. I adore Mary, Susan + Julie, petite but mighty BAMRS. (And yes, I’m on my tiptoes.)

Friday night was a quiet one; pictures of flat #motherrunners appeared, one-by-one, on the Facebook page while Megan, a crazy talented designer, made  the best.race.sign.ever.

Race day! We had 5k’ers, marathon relay-ers, half-marathoners and marathoners. Because all the races except the 5k were point-to-(scenic) point, warmer clothes at the starting line were key. Alicia’s ladybugs wanted to go 26.2 with her.

The half-marathon ladies keeping their bodies warm and their bladders empty at the starting line.

The courses were unbelievably beautiful; when it comes to downhill, scenic races, Utah does not disappoint.

Another Mother Runner Retreat

First-time marathoner Anne flying like a #motherrunner. She also attended our Spokane retreat in fall of 2017, where she mentioned she might want to try a marathon. She was assured she could do it—and she nailed it!

Another Mother Runner Retreat

The cheer-tator squad (Katie, Sarah, Debbi and your’s truly) also nailed it, I might add–and half-marathoner Heather would agree.

Another Mother Runner Retreat

Pat ran a half-marathon PR; on a mission, she was not stopping for an on-course pic!

Stephanie and Maggie, part of Another Mother Runner 2.0 Relay Team, bring it home together.

The day brought a significant number of PR’ers (hello, two 40-minute PR’s in the marathon, one BQ, one 11-minute half-marathon PR, among others); plenty of strong races; and hundreds of happy miles.

Another Mother Runner Retreat

Saturday night: Time to truly celebrate! The marathoners, not surprisingly, were all smiles; with the #motherload of races behind them, they had nothing left to do but eat, drink, and chat about their races.

Nothing left to do but this: Karaoke! Sweet Caroline, Uptown Funk, Love Shack: you name it, we rocked it out.

Another Mother Runner Retreat

Sarah played the role of ringleader—and inspiration. Her motto: enthusiasm trumps talent in karaoke. #truth

Another Mother Runner Retreat

And then Sunday morning—and our celebratory brunch—came much too quickly.

Although this picture is blurry, it’s the words from first-time half-marathoner (woohoo!) and Andrea, who came to the retreat by herself, attached to the image that sum up the weekend beautifully.

I’m a pretty shy person. I’ve also been yearning and searching for community. I am so grateful to have had the privilege of spending this weekend with all of you talented, strong, beautiful, warm and welcoming women united in a pursuit that has already given me so much. —Andrea, first-time half-marathoner and BAMR!

 

Programming note: We will have details on 2019 retreats on available on June 11.

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