My Brother Benny

With nothing to do for his last two weeks of summer, Benji Boy opted to spend a few of his last days of freedom with me. He wanted to check out one of our Mountain Mondays, so we went up to Mueller Park Canyon for an evening.

Ben impressed the boys with his caveman-like skills.

And he impressed me with his skills to make my kids smile at the camera.

Pre pregnancy, I agreed to run two 5k races with Ben this summer. I was becoming so active and in shape right before I got pregnant, that I was sure I could press forward with my high activity levels throughout my pregnancy.

Weeeeeeeeellllllllll. That's not quite how the cookie crumbled. And by that I mean the cookies literally crumbled into my mouth all first trimester as I sat on the couch not wanting to eat anything besides junk food because the thought of any healthy food made me want to barf.

And as you have now predicted, the combo of my bad diet and lack of having any energy during the day beyond the minimal amount to keep my kids alive, pretty much cut off my workout regimen as soon as those two pink lines showed up on a pregnancy test.

Luckily for me and my growing belly. Growing due to the cookies, of course, The Color Run is not timed. And stopping to take pictures throughout the race is expected. So I mustered the energy to burn off a cookie or two Saturday morning with Benj.

Now, before I go any further, allow me to point out my shirt. And my hair color. Ben picked up our race packets the day before the race and inside was a nice, crisp, bright white shirt. And it was actually cute!

So when Ben said we were supposed to wear our white shirts to get splattered on, I was like, "No. That shirt is cute. I don't want to ruin a perfectly cute new white workout shirt. And besides, I already brought this old red one with me that can get ruined. Problem solved."

And then we arrived at the race. And literally everyone had their white shirts on. And mine was left at home. And at least Ben wore a white shirt even though it wasn't the official white shirt. So for future color runners who may be reading. Spare yourself the embarrassment and go ahead and throw that brand new white shirt on.

Because if you're not wearing a white shirt, you may just spend the whole race feeling awkward and outcasted, and that awkward feeling may translate into pictures in the form of unnatural hand placements.

Last word of advice to my future color running self or any prospective color runners -- that packet they give you at the end of the race is not for dumping all over your own head the minute you cross the finish line, but rather, it is meant to be spewn upon the crowds at the raging dance party. My bad.

The Color Run -- a.k.a. -- The best reality check that you aren't as cool as you once thought you were.

Even with my blonde moments, it was still a lot of fun, and now that I've done it once, I can more easily pretend to be one of the cool, I-wear-a-white-shirt kids. So I guess I'd better give it a more experienced try next year.

My high school self would be so embarrassed. But this is who we became, Sarah. This is who we became -- a red shirted, publicly fake high fiving in front of a "high five" sign, self-colored, dance party hating color run impersonator. With a sweat band on. Despite High School Sarah's best efforts to steer me in the opposite direction, I have drifted towards my awkward blonde side and chosen the path of...dork? I think that's the best word to describe the high school stereotype of who I have become. I'm sorry I did this to you. You tried so hard and for so long to stifle your inner dork all through your teenage years, but it was only a matter of time before your inner dork was unleashed. And here we are.

Now I'd like to take a moment to be grateful high school is over and hope that my kids can remain eternally unaware of my blaring dorkiness so I can live in my dork bubble for the rest of forever. Thank you.