Welcome to September, a month where #2 pencils and fresh notebooks hold all the promise of a new year. Instead of celebrating school supplies, we’re going to celebrate our gear this month: The most sentimental or memorable piece of gear, the one that makes you smile when you pull it on—or think about it.  Today’s piece features two mother runners and their hats. ( Read our previous posts here.)

Bertina’s Orange Hat

In a world of fast fashion and always looking for the next best thing, my favorite piece of gear and I recently celebrated our 10th anniversary together.

In 2015, I turned 40. My daughter turned 18, was graduating from high school and would be leaving to go off to college. I decided I needed a project to keep me from having multiple meltdowns about all of the things. I registered for the Twin Cities Marathon and for my birthday, I asked for the AMR #findyourstrong challenge to train for it.

During that training cycle, I purchased an orange AMR trucker hat. The first picture I have of me in it is from 8/4/15. This was our first run together. Scrolling through my Instagram feed, there are multiple pictures of me in that hat since then. The first few years I wore it often, for both running and just as casual wear. I love orange and this hat just fits better than any I have ever had.

I have had so many life changes in the past decade – all of my kids have graduated and started their “adult” lives. I’m divorced, moved to a different city in a different state. I run less, but the orange AMR trucker hat remains my favorite. We both have lots of miles on us, look and feel a bit beat up by age, and maybe our colors aren’t quite as vibrant as they once were.

But anytime I have a tough challenge ahead of me, this is the hat I reach for, whether it’s a hard training session or a tough race. I wore it for my first half marathon post divorce. I wore it for a trail race in Utah that I was woefully unprepared for. While I run (much, much) less now, I still have my beloved orange hat. I have even asked AMR to offer it again, as I love it that much. I won’t say I have retired this hat, as I don’t say I have retired from running. I keep it as a reminder that I can do hard things.

And that when I need an extra boost of badass, this is the hat I reach for.

Kerry’s Minion Hat

I did not expect to wear my most sentimental piece of running gear on the big day.  It was not part of the race plan.  And although they say you should never try anything new on race day, I don’t regret this choice one bit.

It was April of 2018, and after years of hard work and big dreams, I’d finally qualified for the historic Boston Marathon.  As my family and I boarded the plane in balmy South Carolina, I’d planned for the Northern temperatures, packing several layers which I planned to discard before crossing the starting line.  Little did I know, the cold temperatures would be the least of my worries.

Leading up to race day, I kept eying the weather forecast with trepidation.  Not only would it be cold, but they were calling for wind and rain.  I suddenly felt ill-prepared and worried that my little ear-warming headband would not be enough to protect me from the elements.

The day before Marathon Monday, we headed to a big box store in search of a winter hat.  Because Spring was supposedly blooming, we found only flip flops and sun hats in the accessories department.  Worried, I started to search up and down the aisles for anything that would do.  After picking up a one-dollar rain poncho, I finally spotted it on a clearance shelf in the boys’ department … a bright yellow one-eyed Minion hat.  Bingo!

 There was no price tag, no bar code.  I took the hat to a manager and explained my situation, and he sold it to me for $2 … the best money I ever spent!

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of rain pelting the windows of our hotel room.  The wind was howling.  It was 33 degrees.  Yet my spirits remained (mostly) high.  This — BOSTON! — was something I’d been dreaming of for years!

As I sat in our rental car and pinned on my bib before boarding a bus for Athletes’ Village and the starting line, my smile wavered a bit.  I knew this day was going to be awesome, but it would also be hard.  I pulled on my Minion hat, grabbed my gear bag, and kissed my family before heading out into the storm.

A couple of hours later, I was running downhill in Hopkinton, soaking in the feelings of awe and gratitude to be running in these streets.  And despite the cold, rain, and bitter wind, something magical happened.  So many spectators, always enthusiastic and encouraging beyond compare, started calling out to me.  “Hey Minion!”  “Go, Minion!”  Kids waved at me and reached their arms out for high fives.  I wasn’t just one of the thousands of anonymous runners that day, I was a Minion!

I kept on the hat (and most of my layers) for the entire race, and that silly hat is now an integral part of my memories of that day.  I did not discard it along the route, and I didn’t abandon it in the hotel room.  It traveled home with me, a treasured souvenir.

Living in the South, I don’t need much cold-weather running gear, but I still have the Minion hat, all these years later.  And if I’m racing on a chilly day, there’s no doubt about what will be on my head.  That hat has super powers.  It’s a magnet for crowd support, and there’s nothing better than cheers to get you through a tough race.

I’ll be running Chicago next month, and if it’s cold that day, keep an eye out for a Minion on the course.