Danielle

​              I'm not a writer.   Actually, I really hate writing.  I'm not a clever writer, nor am I able to write picturesque pieces about feelings.  I'm not able to put together the right words to get a sarcastic point across, and I am not able to eloquently bring you to tears with a string of poetic words.  I'm not a quirky writer and I'm not witty.  In all honesty, I lie in bed at night, at least a couple of weeks before my blog post is due, writing and rewriting, changing topics at least three times and finally having to put the topic in a metaphorical box and place it under the bed before I can fall asleep.
  I HATE cooking.  I am unable to find joy in throwing random ingredients together to create a gourmet meal.  I HAVE to follow a recipe or whatever in the hell I'm making won't turn out right.  Cooking stresses me out.  It’s not fun trying to wrangle a 22 month old who’s trying to take anything and everything off the counter top, and a five year old screaming because the wrong show is playing on Netflix.   Doesn't sound like fun to me. 
  Forget about being CRAFTY.  My anxiety escalates just thinking about crafts.  In the era of social media, where Etsy, Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest, bombard me with images of perfection, I’m constantly aware of my ineptitude.  The perfect #foodporn #foto on Instagram puts my dinners to shame nightly.  The family portrait with everyone in coordinating outfits makes me roll my eyes because now my children look like complete slobs in their play clothes.  Why make anything from Pinterest when I can buy it from Etsy and pretend I made it?  Let's not forget about the perfectly designed rooms you see all over social media.  My house is truly clean when everyone's sleeping, maybe. 
        My point is (yes, I'm finally getting there), that it's ok that I hate writing, cooking, and crafting.  The more I push myself outside my comfort zone in these areas, the more confident I become. Attacking obstacles head on teaches my daughters perseverance. Let me tell you, rearing girls is not for the faint of heart.  I cook dinner a few nights a week but my significant other cooks more. I do crafts with my older daughter while my younger daughter naps.  It’s become our special mother daughter time we share and treasure because little sister is not interrupting us.
    My kids look cute only in the mornings because by the afternoon, they're messy from playing in the dirt all morning.  My house, more times than not is a mess, but my kids are happy.  I'm horribly unorganized and often late because I snuggle too long in bed with my girls.  I'm perfectly imperfect.  Slowly, I'm becoming ok with being the world’s most “OKest” Mom.
    I know this season of life won’t last long, so I have to purposefully make an effort to not take life too seriously.  I’m learning daily to go with the crazy flow, and living in the now.  In all honestly I’m just winging life.  I’ll take the sloppy, messy, unorganized “in the moment”  because very soon these two little girls will no longer be “Little” and want to snuggle with Mommy, play in the dirt, or do silly crafts.  There will be time when they’re older or gone for me to be organized, creative, and a gourmet chef.  Until then, I will enjoy this beautiful crazy life.

Fall weather is upon us (or at least it's trying to be) and so is that time of the month where you get a personal meet-and-greet with one of our runners without all that awkward small talk! Each month we try to introduce you to one of our members so you can get to know this crew. How do we choose whose features to feature? With a hat draw from the nearest toddler.

This month you have the privilege of getting to know Teryn R., our resident yarn expert, and baker extraordinaire! Hailing from Canada, or the "land of the free, home of the wold's handsomest Prime Minister," as she puts it, it is no surprise that Teryn is one of the friendliest runners around. She has an infectious smile, and she truly, genuinely LOVES to run hills. Yes, you read that right. Teryn has been competing as a runner since she was 10 years old, and has raced too many courses to count. Her favorite distance is a 10K, because it is a fast distance, but her legs don't feel like they're crumbling beneath her like they do when she does a half marathon.

When she's not flying through finish lines, Teryn likes to train in Clarksville and Tarrytown. The cool houses keep her mind occupied so the miles fly by, and the streets are rarely busy because of the hills. If she has her sons Ben (3) and Finn (1) with her, she likes to frequent Ramsey Park because of its great playground as well as its proximity to TacoDeli. Ben and Finn do not mind the stroller rides, and usually pass the time hanging out (usually in adorable matching sunglasses) and asking when they will get to the playground. Teryn does not run with music (she says she would rather jump in the lake than listen to a song on repeat while running), but her sons' songs about dinosaurs keep her entertained during most runs. The boys ride in style in their Chariot CX2, which Teryn bought because she is holding out hopes that she will one day get to use the ski attachment.

Though she currently stays home with the boys, Teryn was a graphic designer in a former life, and is still a phenomenal landscape photographer. Her dream job would be an Instagrammer who gets paid, or a food critic who does not actually have to review the food in any written form, just gets to eat out for free all the time. Both of these would suit her well, as she is a culinary genius whose photos of the pies, donuts, and other food she creates are enough to make anyone's mouth start watering! No stranger to indulging, Teryn treats herself to coffee after a long run, and snacks on frozen cookie dough balls, peanut butter rolled in chocolate chips, and a bag of whale crackers that are most definitely hidden from Ben and Finn.

In addition to her other talents, Teryn is a pro with needles. She knits anything and everything, and often has a project or two in progress. Her favorite place in Austin also happens to be Hill Country Weavers. She recommends their friendly and knowledgable staff for any help one might need with yarn-related projects. Her own yarn stash is minimal, as her "postage-stamp sized" apartment does not allow her to be a collector of anything. She says she and her husband, Steve, are more than willing to pay that price for downtown living.

One thing you will not find in their apartment is Thomas the Train. Teryn wishes she could banish it in all forms because of the show's racist and sexist themes, not to mention the overall "ugh" of Lady as a character. On the other end of the spectrum, she feels that she would be lost without her Garmin watch and Strava app, which she uses to "obsessively track" her runs. The app, she says, has some really great functions, like Grade Adjusted Pacing, which will compare your pace on hills vs flat ground.

Though overall laid back, Teryn still gives an involuntary shudder at the memory of her most embarrassing moment as a mom. It happened when she, Ben, and Steve were in the security line at the airport on the busiest travel day of the year and Ben tossed his cookies all over himself, both of his parents, and several other travelers who were within a 4-foot radius. She remembers not only being embarrassed, but then extremely frustrated when upon opening her wipes container to try to clean up the mess, she found they only had one wipe left. Lucky for her, Ben has no residual memory of the event, and still wants to grow up to be just like his mom. He recently told her that he wants to run half marathons just like her when he gets bigger.

The next time you see a Zooey Deschanel look-alike flying down the streets or trails, make sure you say hello, and if you happen upon Idris Elba at one of Austin's hangouts, make sure to send him Teryn's way.

Loren

I was that girl.  I was the one that silently judged you at the grocery store for buying your whining child a candy bar (and while it's being mentioned, 'Damn you marketing checker-outer gurus!'), or questioned why your child was playing with a toy the entire time you were in the store, but you never intended to purchase it, or why you can't simply put the cart back in the cart corral?!

Well, fast forward about 15 years... I am now THAT Mom. I have 2 kids of my own that constantly like to one-up each other whenever other humans are in their vicinity (why is that?!).

So let me just have a brief conversation with my 20 year old, child-less, unmarried self.  I am buying my child that candy bar because I honestly don't have an ounce of negotiating left in me.  I would rather my child pack in the sugar so long as the mouth stays munching, and the arguing is on a <very> brief standstill.  I would rather the sugar rush kick in while I'm driving so that I can turn the music louder.  I would rather block out their yells and cries alone, in my car, than in the middle of the store where some 20 year old, childless girl is staring at me and judging.

And you want to know why my daughter had that My Little Pony the entire time we were in the store? Because her clepto brother stole from her the only toy I had in my sherpa bag.  And he refuses to give it back, so she screams until that pony is in her hand.  It's not harming anyone, the pony will forgive us, and again, I don't have a single ounce of negotiating left in me (and it's usually only about 9am, so there's that).  And if you're so concerned with the pony being displaced, perhaps you could offer to kindly, kid-lessly, put it back for my broken self.

And lastly, that cart... 99.9% of the time I purposely park near a cart return so that I won't be given dirty looks when I prop the cart on the curb and take off, but occasionally no such close spots exist and I'm forced to park a fair distance from any rational cart parking lot.  So if that happens, I have 3 options:
1. Leave the kids in the cart while I unload our purchases.  This will result in me leaving my children outside of arms reach,  sugar-infused kids sitting way too close to one another (optional dividers need to be installed in carts for those listening), black eyes, bleeding, emotional trauma and a pretty good chance of a cart toppling over.
2. Pack the kiddos into the car, unload our purchases and then leave the children in the car as I return the cart to it's proper place.  This would be my choice, hands down, had it not been for one fine day when I was ridiculed for walking .1 miles away from my children to return the cart to it's rightful place.  So, yeah, I'd rather chose to leave an unkept cart than be hauled off to jail.
3. Load up the kids, load up the buys, hoist the front wheels of the cart onto the nearest curb and be gone.  

So, 20 year old free spirit, if you ever see a lonely cart in the lot, please dispose of the candy bar wrapper left behind, and return it to the 'too-far-away to avoid a DCFS call' corral, would ya?
Thanks.

​Love,
The (Tired of Fighting) Non-Negotiating, (Seldom) Non-Cart Returning, (Often) Non-Purchasing, No Longer Judging, Mom