Greetings my little muffins!

Yesterday was a big day for my little woodahboodah. It was her first 5K race. Dude(s), she was so awesome! I could not have been any prouder. She stuck with it like a trooper the whole way. I wish I had brought my camera along while I was running with her…I’m the worst when it comes to the whole picture thing. My poor kids are gonna be forced to recall their whole childhood with their own personal memories and some random photos taken whenever I got my act together enough to not only lug a camera around with me but to also get the photos developed. This is pre-digital; now they just sit in my camera or on random memory cards.

James did get some photos of her…we got one of her waiting in line to get her packet.

Here she is on race day getting her number pinned on her….she was so excited she couldn’t stand still hence the reason why the photo has this weird double image effect. From the second we got her number on and started walking over to the start line she was ready to bolt; like a greyhound looking for the rabbit. I had to talk her down to a mild mania just to try to conserve energy.

It was so funny. On the way to the race she was asking all kinds of questions. She just couldn’t seem to get the whole concept down in her head. She was like, “are we gonna be running in the REI (where we got the packets)?” I can only imagine how she was visualizing this whole thing…trying to make sense of it all.

We got up to the start line, I was coaching her about how she needed to pace herself but when the “gun” went off all my coaching went in one ear and right out the other. She saw all the runners at the starting line take off and she was NOT going to be the last one standing. She took off like a bat out of hell and I had to put it into third just to keep up with her. Everyone within a 50 meter radius knew her name “Isabella Margarita Rivera!!!” because I was screaming it every five seconds trying to get her to take it down about 5 notches. At about the 2k mark, fatigue and reality started to set in and she decided she needed a break. She started walking (I made sure she got the race etiquette down about moving to the right; she was a pro by the end of the race) and looked up at me asking, “How many miles was that?” “Oh honey…we are barely past the one mile marker” I replied to her and she looked so deflated. But every time someone would pass her she would get a little spark under her to go again. She took several walk breaks…especially after she got the hiccups at the water station, but she never gave up. She pushed on through and at the very end I said “you ready to pour it on??” And she looked back at me and said, “Can I run as fast as I can” and I said “absolutely!” And with that, she took off like she was born and raised in Kenya. She crossed the finish line in full stride and I was welled up with nothing but a mother’s pride. Yep, “that’s my girl!!” Whooohoo Bella!!! Way to go!!! Hopefully this will be the first of many races and one day they will be putting a gold medal on her that didn’t come from party city! But we shall see.

Time for me to fly. Happy running my little…????