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Happy AMRiversary! Train Like a Mother

Today, we are seven.

Well, maybe not today exactly but in March 2010, our big yellow book baby, Run Like a Mother, was launched into the world. While there was a lot of sweat and a few tears, we've never been happier about the journey this book launched. Just like with our human babies but with slightly less pushing.

We'll be celebrating all week with contests on social media (you follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, yes?) and a trip (or two or three) down memory lane. If you're looking to pick up a signed! copy (or two or three) of our books, you can get a great deal on 'em here. Each book is a mere $10. You can pick up all three for $25. Now's the time to fill out your collection -- or make sure all your BRFs are part of the Tribe. 

Our big orange baby, Train Like a Mother, was born two years after our first. This time our focus was lacing up your racing shoes and training for a 5K, 10K, half, or marathon. TLAM is stuffed full of training plans that let you customize your race. Do you want to finish it? Or own it? The choice is yours.

Of course, we had lots of advice, too. Like Sarah's ode to The Stick, which isn't as naughty as it sounds. Or Dimity's meditation on the five stages of injury-related grief. And this piece:

Aid Stations We'd Like to See

Most aid stations are utilitarian: some water, some sports drink, maybe a gel or an orange slice if you're lucky. The best ones we've seen are at the Nike Women's Marathon, where you get a Ghirardelli chocolate (not really interested in eating it then, but good to save as a present for the kiddies); and the Leadville Trail 100, where there's a veritable buffet of everything salty and sweet. But you have to go 100 miles to get to the feast, which makes it slightly less appetizing.

We went nuts in 2012.

This got us thinking about how we could spice up some aid stations. Note: Since we're in never-never land, it goes without saying that stopping at any of these would take no time off the race clock.

  • Make your own sign stations, about 2 miles from the finish, where you could craft your own poster that said something along the lines of "Shut the f*&> up! I'm not 'almost there.' But thank you for being out here."
  • A station with an espresso machine -- and the guarantee that the java wouldn't erupt on you for the rest of the race.
  • A station with immaculate, scent-free, flushable Porta-potties, which are magically cleaned and sanitized each time the doors are opened. Oh, and there would be actual sinks, too, with real soap and clean towels.
  • A station where Danny and Katherine Dreyer, cofounders of ChiRunning, would study your form, then make simple suggestions on how to get across the finish line with less effort.
  • A station that's the human equivalent of a car wash: You would pass through it on a conveyor belt as sweat, dried salt stains, pit odor, boogers, and leaked urine were cleaned off of your body, hair, and outfit.
We also made a stop in Atlanta. And, yes, Sarah and Dimity are really that tall.
  • A station that knew what kind of music you liked and automatically downloaded a customized, brand-new, kick-buttocks playlist on your iPod as you ran by.
  • A station decked out with comfy chairs where hotties would remove your sweat-soaked socks; replace them with clean, soft ones; dump that pebble out of your shoe; and double-knot your kicks with the perfect amount of tightness. Then they would give you a chivalrous hand to help you back up.
  • A station where, for a $50 donation to Susan B. Komen for the Cure, your kids would be guaranteed not to whine at you for the rest of the day.
  • A station where, for a $50 donation to Girls on the Run, you could buy yourself splits that are a minute faster.
  • A photo-booth station where you could stop in, get to see a previously taken shot of yourself in the race, the Photoshop it so it looks like you're blitzing along, with no thighs jiggling, no grimace on your face, no feet only millimeters off of the ground, no muffin top inching out of your tank, and no shirtless, potbellied dude sharing the frame with you.
Also in 2012: Dimity turned 40!
  • A station a quarter-mile from the finish line where your running partner, lost in the crowd since mile 4, would miraculously materialize so you could cross the line together, hands clasped in triumph.
  • A station that, when you ran by, automatically removed all negative thoughts from your head. After you passed the table you immediately loved, loved, loved running; nothing hurt; you were totally meeting your goals; the weather was not too hot, cold, or windy, the course not too hard or hilly. Life is perfect.

Tell us: what would be in your dream aid station?

3 responses to “Happy AMRiversary! Train Like a Mother

  1. A station where a magical lotion or rub revitalizes your (insert achy body part here) so that it will.not.hurt when you get done.

  2. I’d like a quick (but sterile) intravenous fluid replacement station – with a quick prick you could truly rehydrate without water sloshing around in your stomach for the next mile….

  3. These are all fantastic! What about an aid station to magically remove all blisters, black/lost toenails, and chaffed spots?? Because no matter how much I slather on the body glide, there is always a new raw spot somewhere.

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