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  • Writer's pictureDella Pierson

Tutu be, or not tutu be, that is the question.

Oh hell no, that is not the question. The question is why aren’t we all wearing tutus all the time?

If you’re the happiest person in a race on a 90 degree day, you just may be wearing a tutu!

As I proudly run in my orange tutu that matches my Fleet Feet racing shirt someone yells,

“looking good!” I smile, wave and yell thank you just as a woman pushing a double stroller with two, 30 lb. kids passes me. Oh crap! Was that “looking good” for her or me? Too late, that

“thank you” is already out in the world so I carry on with the confidence afforded me by my

layers of tulle.

You might be a tutu-holic if someone texts and asks if you have any pink tutus and you say, “Yes, how many do you need?”

I have supplied numerous tutus in numerous colors for numerous events. My favorite was when I was a newbie in the Fleet Feet triathlon program and for the first open water swim I brought tutus for the mermaids. I was nervous that everyone would think it was stupid but they were very accepting and loved it! Tutu, the great ice-breaker.

You might have special tutu powers when you can convince a man to wear a tutu.

Most men are anti tutu, but not all. I have seen about 20 of my guy running friends feel the magic of the tutu. I won’t embarrass them with photos but they know who they are! Oops, I lied! Just look how happy this mystery man is!!

I’m not sure why I even thought to wear a tutu that first time but I’m convinced it’s a form of pure joy. I’ve converted many people to the tutu life and they love it too. It just makes running more fun for both the wearer and the observer. You have to be happy when you see one, especially when you’re going to be a badass and overtake it with your dang 100 lb. stroller. Yes, you’re a rockstar, but your kids were smiling and waving at me!

P.S. Whoever has the most at the end wins. Pretty sure I’m in the running!

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  • Writer's pictureDella Pierson

An athlete? Me? Bahahaha! Although... my Aunt always said that nobody could chase cows through the pasture as fast as I could. With gopher holes and cow pies to dodge, it's a wonder I'm not a trail runner. Even now at a race when I'm called an athlete, I always feel like I'm pulling the wool over someones's eyes.

When I was an Army brat, we lived on a base in Quebec where school sports comprised of three things: a one day Track and Field event before the end of the school year, Intramural Volleyball and Basketball. Volleyball was never my game as every serve of mine went directly into the ceiling. So, I gave basketball a try. One game in particular sticks in my memory, and it's Dan's favorite of my sports stories. We played the kids at the other English school and they had a ringer named Carol Ann. She was a head taller than all of us and quite the athlete. We all played our best and I got called for traveling. I mean, how could I be expected to keep the ball away from Carol Ann and dribble it too? We lost 12-6. Carol Ann was ecstatic and declared the game a slaughter. A SLAUGHTER!!! With slumped shoulders and heads hung low we accepted that yes, indeed, we were the victims of a slaughter. Imagine my surprise when years later I discovered that basketball scores easily reach 100! Hey, what did we know? We were Canadian kids, our game was hockey.

Aside from school sports, I was a figure skater for a few years. I was really only in it for the costumes and the big show at the end of the year with even better costumes. My nemesis move was called the Teapot. A squat on one foot, with the other leg and both arms extended out in front. On a 1/4" blade the result was always discouragement and a wet hiney. Whatever! I looked so damn cute in my homemade outfit that I didn't care. Thanks Mom!

Fast forward to my military career and the annual PT test. The requirement was a mile and half run in 15 minutes, sit ups and push ups. Easy enough right? I'd show up, stub out my ciggy and go for it. I always passed, and always swore I'd quit smoking. Didn't happen - until 1997.

There you have it folks, my athletic career until I became a runner in 2015. Dammit, I wish I could still run a mile and a half in 15 minutes. I have long lost track of Carol Ann, but I do know she joined the military after I did. I sure hope she SLAUGHTERED that run!

Run and done



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  • Writer's pictureDella Pierson

Updated: Jun 19, 2020

Covid streak day 51!! A self-imposed running streak of at least one mile outside. I started the streak to force me out the door when I was going stir crazy in quarantine. I’m running until I’m vaccinated or ventilated!! Come on scientists! Some days my hips pray I’ll give in and go for ventilated but I heard that’s not so fun, so I plod along. I don’t run with music or podcasts, just my thoughts: Why is this going so slow? Why does my breathing sound like a truck is following me and why is my neighbor Dave standing on his front porch buck ass naked Jeezuz! Hello! This was definitely a ventilator day!

I think a lot about my running career on these runs. All this solo running forces actual thought. I’ve packed a lot of running and triathlon into 5 years. It feels like forever and also a blink. It has changed my life in ways I never thought possible. Running helped me re-invent myself. Now, I love and have excellent poop stories and I have mountains of tutus, props and costumes for festive theme runs! I celebrate, cuss and love to drink after runs but still work hard at attaining my goals. The goals for 2020 are all gone but still I train with an eye to 2021 and being reunited with teammates. That will be one helluva tutu party!

So, for now I blog the slog. I want to write to document and remember. I always felt something special was happening all those running years and the year of Covid has really driven that home! This is my journey, these are my words and feelings. Before I go to the past and start at the beginning I still have to run streak day 52! Until then….

Run and done



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