tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76449857770414979082024-02-19T14:50:35.058-08:00“The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.”- John BinghamKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-20550989849344749012018-12-11T14:32:00.002-08:002018-12-11T15:55:52.794-08:00Transformation Tuesday - What THEY sayTransformation Tuesday is a <i>thing</i>! It's a <i>thing</i> I'm learning about as I navigate how to run an online business, for both our farm and my new coaching gig. I think Transformation Tuesday is an opportunity. It's an opportunity to tell your story, in a succinct, and powerful way. But for all my friends who know me well, succinct isn't really <i>my</i> thing.<br />
<br />
I've been trying to find the right words to explain my latest transformation.<br />
"A picture speaks louder than words," <i>they</i> say.<br />
"Just use your before & after photos to show how you've changed," <i>they</i> tell me.<br />
<br />
But the picture doesn't tell the whole story, and that's hard for me. Words have always been my friend. So, even though I'll continue to share my progress through photos, I'm going to take some time now, to put it all down in words.<br />
<br />
-------<br />
<br />
"Why did you gain all that weight back?"<br />
<br />
It was an honest question, from a then, acquaintance. It wasn't malicious or asked to invoke guilt. It was casual, as we walked on treadmills next to each other. It wasn't offensive, coming from someone I knew had faced the same struggles. But it did catapult me into a place of reflection that I had refused to visit until that point.<br />
<br />
Why did I gain all that weight back? How <i>did</i> I lose 180 pounds and gain back over 100 of it? It only took a couple years. It was <i>easy</i>. That part I knew without thinking much about it. So, after taking the time to really think about this question, I'm ready to share my conclusion.<br />
<br />
It was me. I'm the reason I gained back over 100 pounds and saw the scale, once again, roll past 300.<br />
<br />
The reason I say this is not because I feel shame or guilt or sorry for myself. That is to say, I don't feel those things anymore, but I did. My life the past three years was built on a foundation of shame and guilt, that had me living in my cave of despair. I'm serious, folks. I've felt so, so sad. I say this because I want to help other people fight their own demons.<br />
<br />
<i>But Katie, you have SO much going for you.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
True story. I one day, got almost everything I ever wanted. I married my best friend, my dream of a man. We bought a beautiful home on some amazing land. We started our farm, and watched our professional careers take off, after a million hours of hard work, sweat, and actual tears. So.many.tears.<br />
<br />
The best way I can describe my state-of-mind at the time, is a cloud. I could not find a way to experience pure joy and elation, and without those moments, I found it harder and harder to take-on each day. The depression compounded when I reminded myself just how much my mood and unhappiness was affecting Eric. He started to experience the cloud, because no matter what he did, it was wrong. I was always upset, always sad, and nothing was ever enough to pull me out of the dark place.<br />
<br />
So how did <i>I</i> do <i>this </i>to myself?<br />
<br />
At first, I was high on my personal development in 2014. I had lost a ton of weight. I felt great. I had so many things I was ready to take on. Eric and I were dating. I had arrived, I thought. This is it. It's the life I've been waiting for. Slowly, exercise and eating healthy took a backseat to fun and adventure. Which is legitimately the right choice some days. But soon, having a bottle of wine with my sweetie more than one night a week, bingeing on delicious KC eats, and skipping my workouts after a late night concert, were the norm.<br />
<br />
All of this would have been fine for a short time, if I hadn't started placing my personal self value on my weight. Once the scale started rolling, I started experiencing that guilt. Before I knew it, 10 pounds turned into 20, then 40, then 50 over a three year period. I felt so bad about myself then, that it only took another three months to gain another 50 pounds. Work was <i>HARD</i>. So hard. Money was tight. And my mind simply couldn't handle it all. So, I gave up.<br />
<br />
I gave up on myself.<br />
<i>My regular head talk included a variation of this train of thought every.single.day. :I can't eat right. It's really too difficult. Work makes it impossible. I'm hungry. I deserve to have something easy. I just want ONE thing easy. I am just going to grab dinner on the way home. I just want to relax. I've worked 15 hours. I deserve to relax. I'm so tired. I'm tired of all of this. I need to clean the house. I'm too tired to clean the house. Eric deserves better. Why can other people do all this life stuff? I hate being so fat. I'm so tired. I hate myself.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I tried and tried and tried to lose weight, to get stronger, to FEEL better. But I failed over and over again. It all started with denial about how far I had fallen, which I'll save for another post. What I was doing before, wasn't working. For some reason, I wasn't strong enough to do it alone. My friend Lindsay reached out to me in 2017. I signed up for her free Beachbody group.<br />
<br />
Ahh, finally, something <i>easy.</i><br />
The truth? It didn't work. I failed.<br />
<br />
In retrospect, if I would have done the workouts or followed the nutrition plan, or participated in the challenge group, I may have found that it was exactly what I needed. But I didn't. I wanted an easy button, a magic pill, or someone else to do the work for me.<br />
<br />
"It's not really for me. Maybe another time," I told her.<br />
<br />
I decided that I was just going to be morbidly obese. I decided that this was the life I was destined for. I had spent so much of my life like that, so maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe this was actually what I was destined for. I was too tired to imagine any other way.<br />
<br />
In April of last year, I made the decision to try one more time. This had very little to do with me, and more to do with my husband. I felt so guilty about who I was, and so sad that Eric didn't marry the same girl he fell in love with years before. And I'm not talking physically here (although that was part of it), but I had turned into a grouchy, sad, couch potato, with no real aspirations or goals for myself or my family. And my misery was effecting Eric so badly, even though he was trying so hard to make things better for me.<br />
<br />
So, I reached out to Lindsay again.<br />
"Okay, I'm ready," I told her.<br />
I invested in what she had told me about months before. I took the leap into something that I had publicly shamed in years past. I started drinking the shakes, I started doing the workouts, following the nutrition plans, and checking in with my "challenge group" every day.<br />
<br />
I lost some weight the first month, but more importantly, I connected with a group of people who desperately wanted to reach their next level of wellness, whatever that might be. I fell in love with the honesty of "I ate all the cupcakes today" and "I missed my workout again", and I found the courage to try harder through all their positive updates, "Killed my workout today" or "Day 5 of staying on-track with my food. Left the chocolate alone today, again!" They helped me feel empowered, and before I knew it, I was motivating myself.<br />
<br />
Then I went from surviving to thriving, and I found the courage to do all the hard things that I left behind years ago. I started tracking my non-scale victories; walking a quarter mile, running a 5k, then a 10k, and then a half-marathon. I competed in triathlons. I found confidence at work and made a big-time sale. I watched Eric's life transform, as I took back control of mine. And then our relationship blossomed into something even more than it was before. The love has always been there, but when two people on a quest for wellness, re-commit to each other, the results are beautiful. So much laughter and fun, grace and forgiveness.<br />
<br />
I stopped using the scale as a representation of myself, because it's not the <i>only </i>thing that matters. The scale is a tool, and that's how I use it now.<br />
<br />
What's different than six years ago when I lost all that weight originally? Why do I think I'll be able to keep it off and work towards a healthier me?<br />
<br />
Community, commitment, tools, resources, personal development, and the ideology that my health is bigger than me. It effects my family, my friends, and my relationship with God. Self-care is not shameful. The best me can serve those around me best, and I don't take that lightly.<br />
<br />
Coaching will help keep me motivated. It will help keep me honest to myself. I don't have a desire to punish myself for binging or missing my workout anymore. I do have a desire to be honest about it. This is just life, ya know. For some people, myself included, this part of life can be particularly difficult to manage. But this part of my life has impacted every single other part of my existence. I'm stronger today because I finally succumbed to that knowledge.<br />
<br />
This picture I'm sharing is me, at the same weight. One picture, I was on my honeymoon. The other picture is this past week, getting ready for a happy-hour. Same weight, completely different person. Non-scale victories, my friends. I had no idea what these programs would do for my body, the strength I would gain.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_47S7SIcWSC-7s3V3Tup493U0KKBIFFfAEfs60N9c_TVeEwhOTm9fmApR9Bmmlv8x13skSRrX-Sse7diU451SFiAXcx-th4yNhx_ufjC1c3DgCFueTL3Yi-SZv3O8HEs_MwRb45orWea/s1600/IMG_6796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="634" data-original-width="640" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_47S7SIcWSC-7s3V3Tup493U0KKBIFFfAEfs60N9c_TVeEwhOTm9fmApR9Bmmlv8x13skSRrX-Sse7diU451SFiAXcx-th4yNhx_ufjC1c3DgCFueTL3Yi-SZv3O8HEs_MwRb45orWea/s320/IMG_6796.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Muscle weighs more than fat, <i>they</i> told me. I guess a picture really is worth a thousand words. <i>They </i>were right.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-58848167036588724112017-09-04T18:04:00.000-07:002017-09-04T18:04:17.482-07:00Bringing home Mom<div class="MsoNormal">
I dreamt about my mother last night. It was vivid, like it
was yesterday when I saw her last. It was refreshing, since my memories are less
intense, and more sporadic these days. On my way into town this morning, it
dawned on me that I should really go pick up my mother’s ashes from my dad’s
basement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When mom died, we displayed an urn with her ashes on the
mantle. Each one of my mom’s children received an urn. Friends and family
suggested it was morbid that we had one on display. It made them uncomfortable.
We removed the urn from the top of the fireplace and put it in a box with my
sister’s share of mom’s ashes, before I moved away to college. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They’ve lived in the basement of my father’s house, in a box
marked <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Fragile Mickie”, </i>for the past
12 years. I know my mother’s spirit is not in that box. But I’ve struggled
deciding where to take my mom’s ashes. I thought that time and space from her
death would enlighten me. At first I had several ideas. Kauffman Stadium,
Longview Lake, Wayside Waifs, plant a tree, take her on a road trip. Nothing
really seemed to fit though. None of those things really made up who she was. We
didn’t have a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">home</i> that was special
to us, since we moved every few years. I struggled feeling like I didn’t know
my mother at all. Who was she if none of those places or things really defined
her? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The longer I’ve waited, the more the memories have seemed to
fade. Things are no clearer to me now than they were almost 15 years ago. But I
woke up this morning with an unwavering feeling<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">; I need to bring mom home.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I called my dad to let him know I’d be stopping by. When I
got to my dad’s house, the box was sitting in the living room. There it sat. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fragile Mickie.</i> I lifted the box into
the back of my car, and headed toward home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I changed the radio station at least 100 times in the first
20 minutes of my drive. I imagined having to explain to my mother the state of
country music in 2017. I bet she would find it hard to believe that my students
several years ago had no idea who Garth Brooks was. Instead they listen to
songs about beer, “gettin’ some”, and fluff. Less subtlety. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not as much heart or soul, no story or lesson
to share. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Kids these days,” she’d say.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I exited the highway and came to a stop. My car rumbled
below me. It’s not fancy, but it’s gets us from A to B.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eric and I paid cash for it after sharing a
car for nearly a year. My views on money have changed a lot over the past
decade, and I’ve worked hard to avoid unnecessary debt. Eric and I haven’t made
a car payment in years, and while it seems minor, I’m proud of how far I’ve
come. My mom spent money when she had it (and sometimes when she didn’t),
although never on herself. Our Christmases were large. Our friends and
neighborhood families were always treated by my mom, whether it was ice cream
from Dairy Queen, or a new pet hamster. Giving gifts was one of my mother’s
love languages. Everything she left that was hers alone fit in the box in the
back of my car. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fragile Mickie.</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I continued my drive, nearing the gravel roads that would
ultimately bring me home, I thought about the things I never understood about
my mom. Time and experience have helped me understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could never figure out why my mother always
seemed so sad. How could someone so brilliant, funny, and bold not be happy?
She was dealt many difficult cards throughout her life, but she was so loved
and everyone’s best friend. How could she feel alone? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know now what it is like to feel sad for no reason, to
feel overwhelmed by the mundane, and anxious about the future. I fight a
constant battle to stay positive and overcome my negative head garbage, and
when I’m down, I’m healthy enough to stand up and face the day. I don’t
remember my mom ever being healthy. I can’t imagine what that must have been
like. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I turned down our gravel road. On our street you have to
slow down to let the goats cross the road. Our neighbors wear rhinestones on
their jeans and cowboy hats. “Coon”, from two streets over, is the neighborhood
watch. He’s been watching these streets for 30 years he tells us. His friends
call him, “Coon”. Lisa next door, drops off flowers while we are gone for us to
plant in our garden. Kevin and his wife, South of us about a half mile, are
quick to share with us the small-town gossip. Carl, two houses up, used to
return the toys his dog would steal from our yard, before he was hit by a car.
I miss that dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cows get out from
up the road and sometimes the horses. Tim hays our fields, and for a dozen
eggs, buried a horse on our property when she suddenly died. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is the exact life my mother talked about me having and
the type of people she hoped would take care of me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pulled into our driveway and pushed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fragile Mickie</i> through the basement door. When I opened it, there
were two urns. I took them out so I could see what else was in the box.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gawdy bed sheets, six shirts, a pair of jeans, a heating
pad, and three candle votives. I let that sink in for a moment. That was it.
That was all <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fragile Mickie</i> had for
me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pulled the shirt I remembered her wearing, close to my
face. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That’s her.</i> Everything in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fragile Mickie </i>smelled like her. Somehow
a plastic box had maintained the scent of my mom for the better part of 15
years. I wept into every piece of clothing as I pulled them to my face. Then I
folded them nicely and put them back in the box.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sat looking at the two urns. One, my own. The other
belonging to my younger sister, Carmen. I prayed for Carmen in that moment. The
past 15 years without Mom to wrangle my sister have been difficult. My dad has
done everything he can. I struggled with guilt for many years, not being able
to save my sister from herself. I wondered if it’s the one way I have failed my
mother. I wondered if she could have made a difference. But God has reminded me
time and time again, that love and forgiveness is all I can offer. I learned
that first when Mom died.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fragile Mickie</i> sat
below the table full of wedding supplies. Mason jars, burlap runners, and
twinkle lights. Everything prepped and ready to make its way to the venue for
the biggest day of my life, only two months away. Mom won’t be there. Neither
will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fragile Mickie</i>. But the clarity
about who Mom was and where <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fragile
Mickie</i> rests, will be in my heart. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I picked up my urn and took it upstairs to the back deck. I
sat it down to pet my pup, Walt, and held him close. My mom would have loved my
puppies, and kittens, and chickens, and ducks. She would have begged me to name
the bunnies and I would have let her. She would have been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so happy</i> for me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fragile Mickie</i> is
just a box with the physical remnants of my mother. My mother didn’t have a lot
of hobbies. She didn’t hold on to jewelry to pass down generations. There was
no place she ever talked about visiting time and time again. She left nothing
of value for anyone and no instructions on what to do with her ashes. She didn’t
care. But the people who loved her stubborn, brilliant, fighting soul miss her
always. So did the animals she left behind. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mom made it to where I always dreamed she’d go, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fragile Mickie</i> has finally made it where
she needs to be. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="footnote text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="footer"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="index heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of figures"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="envelope address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="envelope return"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="footnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="line number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="page number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of authorities"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="macro"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="toa heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-66448712514875880112017-04-11T19:49:00.002-07:002017-04-11T19:49:49.144-07:00Low-lightsAs I stood at the counter tonight, cleaning, drying, and divvying up our chicken eggs, I tried to reason with my 10-year-old hound dog.<div>
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"Roxxie...how many times must I tell you that barking to go outside so you can bark to come inside, is not an appropriate use of our time this evening?"</div>
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As I tried to negotiate with my dog, I finished drying the egg in my hand and opened the dishwasher. For a brief moment I thought about where the egg goes in the dishwasher. </div>
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<i>The egg doesn't go in the dishwasher, Katie...</i></div>
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I'm tired, after a restless night of sleep, a full day of work, and all my household chores and projects. Which begs the question, how in the heck do any of you have any time for anything? I'm looking at you, mom of two with another on the way. I'm looking at you, budding business-woman with meetings that run from 7:00 AM to 7:00 PM. I'm looking at you, full-time teacher, coach, and marathon runner. I'm looking at you, entrepreneur engaged in non-stop business planning. I'm looking at you, full-time farmer, with a family and community to feed. </div>
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Someone please prove to me that you're not all robots with steel hearts, manipulating time in your favor. I know social media is often-times a series of highlights in peoples' lives. I know I'm guilty of this as well. In fact, this weekend I posted pictures of Eric and I fishing with our pup. It was a feel-good moment in my day. I was feeling grateful. I wanted to share. I even posted a new profile picture that probably gave people who don't know me the illusion that I can get my hair to stay curled for more than six minutes at a time AND that I always do my makeup before leaving the house.</div>
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These moments were real. These moments were beautiful. But I don't think it makes me any less grateful to say that most moments don't look like this.</div>
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I asked Eric today what makes him jealous. What makes me jealous is people who seem to have managed their time so efficiently that they are able to accomplish everything they want in each day. I DON'T UNDERSTAND. Meanwhile, I'm over here wondering how long I can let this avocado clay mask sit on my face before it starts doing more harm than good. It's supposed to "purge your pores of all dirt and oil". Seems nice. It said 10 minutes, and even though it's been about 30, I think I'm still okay. </div>
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Anyway, I often feel guilty voicing frustration over my long days. I am living an overly-blessed life, as are most of the people I surround myself with, even if they can't admit it. What gets me...what really irks me...is that this life has me wanting so much out of every day, every second. I think that's when I end up overwhelmed, under-satisfied, and jealous. </div>
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So in the real world, this is what my day and night looked like. </div>
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I slept less than five hours because I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about an event at work over 4 weeks away. But that got me thinking about the next thing and the thing after that and before I knew it, it was time to feed the animals, eat leftover tuna casserole for breakfast, and drive to work. </div>
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Work was fine today, and by fine I mean I didn't cry, yell, or lose my mind. But I didn't leave the office until after six, so I got home after 7 PM. I also caved to tacos (for the second time this week) instead of a salad. Woe is me.</div>
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Eric was working his second job tonight, so when I got home I went through the normal routine of letting Roxxie inside so she could run upstairs to go outside. There she holds our younger pup hostage and both the kidnapper and the hostage become quite hostile if their hangry needs are not addressed ASAP. </div>
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After feeding all the furry animals, I started what I like to call "pretending to do laundry". It's where I take the clothes from the dryer and throw them on the guest bed to be folded at a later date. Maybe tomorrow, maybe a week from now. Then I move the clothes from the washer to the dryer where they tumble and then I pretend for 45 minutes that I'm going to take them out and fold them when the buzzer alarms. I took things a step farther tonight and actually tended to the clothes on the bed. By the time I was done with that, it was time for the farm duties.</div>
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I spent approximately 7 minutes searching for one of the two ducks that we currently have roaming our land. I discovered that one chicken was also missing. It wasn't too long before I realized that Gerget (the duck) was downhill in the chicken run, trying to fornicate with Juniper (our mama hen) against her will. Or maybe it wasn't against her will, but either way, the scene was unpleasant and it's not quite safe for the hen. I cut that romp short and then went on my way. </div>
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I cared for the baby chicks and ducks. And by cared for, I mean wiped poop off their waterer with my bare hands because we were out of paper towels in the barn. They're still cute though so it doesn't matter. Then it was time for the scariest part of the farm duties, when I take the bigger tub of chicken food out to feed the chickens.</div>
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If you know me, you know I've had to overcome a pretty serious fear of birds. And I wouldn't say I've overcome that fear completely. When you take the can of food out, all the chickens start chasing you. I have to get the food a football field away before I'm attacked and eaten by my own birds. Some days are really touch-and-go. Today, Gerget distracted them by heading back down to the coop for round two. I broke that up again, locked the chickens in their run and worked on the next task. </div>
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Trick the ducks into their pen is a fun game, that has many-times, brought me to tears. No joke. Sometimes those damn ducks are so naughty that they make me cry. When you desperately want to sit down after a long day, chasing the ducks for 5-30 minutes can seem almost too much to handle. I owned them tonight though and the waddled in, even before dark.</div>
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When I came inside at 8:00 PM, I started to clean the eggs that we are going to take to work tomorrow to sell. This is when the negotiations started with Roxxie and our young pup, Walt spent some time going through the "clothes to be donated" bags that I put together last night. He has excellent taste.</div>
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I made sure to spend some time thinking about that salad I didn't eat for dinner during this time and contemplating whether or not I should just eat ice-cream since I already had the tacos anyway. These are tough life decisions.</div>
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Roxxie stole an egg for dessert while I ripped the Nashville souvenir from Walt's mouth for the third time tonight. Sidenote...I just had to google how to spell souvenir which makes me think that my student loan payment that is equivalent to a mortgage payment, really wasn't worth it. </div>
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I spent so much time during that egg-cleaning session thinking about how I'm going to accomplish everything this week that I want to and also have time to sleep and eat, that I decided I should come write about it. I want to see if being a robot is an option or if everyone else really struggles with adulting. Google is now telling me that "adulting" isn't a word. I've had almost as much as I can handle in one day.</div>
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I had to take a break from this blog to go see why Walt was silent. Turns out he ripped up one of our expensive throw pillows that Eric got me for my birthday last year. Then I had to call and tell Eric before he got home so I didn't have to see the disappointment in his face. Bad dog-mom.This is why we can't have nice things. </div>
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Meanwhile, it's now an hour later and I still have this mask on. I'm guessing it's not going to turn back time and make me look 20 instead of 42 like I looked in my most recent photos, but a girl can hope. Eric just texted me and asked me if I wanted anything from Quiktrip. When I told him tea, he replied, "Caffeine? Will that keep you up tonight?" </div>
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I'LL TELL YOU WHAT'S KEEPING ME UP!</div>
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ROBOTS AND TIME AND MONEY AND NOT ENOUGH OF ANY OF THOSE THINGS. </div>
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Now I need to go e-mail this birthday card to my friend Sara's baby girl. She'll be two in June and I want to make sure she gets this <i>Happy 1st Birthday</i> card before then.</div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-19589151835506426962016-12-26T17:44:00.000-08:002016-12-26T17:44:01.044-08:00I said, "Yes!"It was August of 2005. I was sitting in a classroom at Wells Hall on the campus of Northwest Missouri State University. I was so nervous. It was my first Bearcat Update meeting. I was going to get my first assignment for the campus television station.<br />
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Steve Serrano came in and went to the front of the classroom to introduce his two producers. This felt big time to me. First guy was pee-wee (Bobby Taylor), who ended up being my roommate at college several years later. After his introduction, Steve introduced "Poop".<br />
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I had been immediately drawn to "Poop" when he walked in. He had on athletic shorts, a Northwest t-shirt, and ball cap that barely covered his head of hair. His chin-strap facial hair was so 2000 and so manly. He had piercing blue eyes. When Steve introduced him he cracked a smile that seriously melted me.<br />
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So, this is college.<br />
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I got to see Eric once a week for our weekly Bearcat Update taping. I could not get over how incredibly handsome he was, but I soon learned that he was also funny and kind, and super talented. Later that year we became friends. He would come over to my dad's house over the summer and we would "driveway sit". We talked about everything. School, work, future plans, religion, the girls he was dating. We actually called each other and instant messaged (because I didn't have texting on my phone). He became my best friend.<br />
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Then all of a sudden, every single Taylor Swift song seemed to be about my life. The unrequited love, the friend zone, dashed hopes and dreams. It took me a year, but I came to the realization that "Poop" was probably never going to love me the way that I loved him. I professed my love through an instant message conversation sophomore year. "You know I love you, but I guess somewhere along the lines...I fell in love with you." <br />
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"That makes sense," he said.<br />
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That's all we ever said about it. Fast forward to Fall 2011. We spent a year making a documentary together and all the feels came rushing back. I wondered if I could ever find someone who could make me smile or make me laugh like he did. I wondered if I'd ever find someone else who could make me feel so safe and so whole. Like what if I just had to settle for less than whole and maybe I'd have to. Maybe God had other plans for me, and I'd have to be okay with that.<br />
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But something changed for him over the next few years. Like a movie, our love story unfolded into something I never quite imagined. Not all moments in time were out of a fairytale, but they were always for better. I remember sitting up all night after a day hanging out with him, doing not much of anything, thinking...this was the best day of my life.<br />
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Then when we moved into our new house, I thought the same thing. I thought it again we adopted our puppy. I thought it again every time we shared Christmas with his family. I thought, "this is the best day of my life", day after day that we shared with each other.<br />
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I thought it again on Saturday when Eric asked me to marry him.<br />
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I can't really describe what went through my head as Eric got down on one knee, out here on our land, and asked me to be his wife. I also can't tell you what I saw because I was bawling uncontrolably.<br />
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What I can tell you is that it's never been easier for me to nod yes while crying every tear my body could hold and snotting all over the place. Eric is all the great things I wrote on a list of things I wanted in a husband when I was younger. He's a Christian, strong, funny, hard-working, and intelligent. But he's also a lifetime learner, rugged country-man, uniquely talented, kind and giving. He is so good to his family and it's been amazing to watch him with his nephew. He is constantly working to make himself better and he challenges me to do the same.<br />
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Eric is my best friend. I don't worry about living with him, I fear living without him. God has done some incredible things in our relationship over the last two years. I can't wait to see what new adventures await us and what challenges we will overcome together as husband and wife.<br />
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It was over a decade ago when I first saw him. Same head of hair, same captivating smile. If you would have asked me then if I'd be sitting here with a ring on my finger, typing this blog, I would have told you that you were crazy. But after 15 chickens, two ducks, two bunnies, two dogs, and a cat...maybe we<br />
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are the crazy ones.<br />
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That's okay. We'll be crazy together. <3<br />
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-23123871076717009472016-05-07T20:15:00.002-07:002016-05-07T20:15:32.645-07:00A mother's legacyMy mom would be so mad if she saw how many times I'm going to refer to her as <i>mother </i>in this post.<br />
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My mother once told me that a sign of a great leader is that the leader's work continues and people continue to succeed, even when the leader is gone. My dad reiterated that to me years later, as I was leaving college. I think about that bit of advice almost daily, especially in my job. <br />
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I'm not a mother. I'm not sure if I will ever get that opportunity. Only time and God will tell. But I've been thinking about motherhood a lot lately. My best friend had her first child this year. She lost her own mom, like I did, years ago. I was invited to the hospital to wait for her little one's arrival. I can't tell you the feelings that took over me as I stood in the hospital room, holding my friend's little girl for the first time. I was in complete awe. I was so proud of my friend and her husband, calm and collected, smiling and laughing as they introduced the baby to all the people that loved her even before she was born. It was such a happy moment.<br />
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I started thinking about my nieces and nephew, how much they had grown, how quickly time had passed. And as I drove home, I thought about my brother and my sister. <i>How did they do it? How did they handle careers, kids, relationships....anything, without our mom? </i><br />
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I wondered how long my friend's family would stay in that room with her. I wondered how long the baby would sleep that first night. I wondered what it felt like to be a mother. And in an instant, I was overcome with grief. My heart ached, knowing that my friend's mom couldn't be there. I wondered how she'd do it.<br />
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She just... <i>did</i>. I've watched her become an incredible mom over the past months. I've listened to the stories, seen the pictures, and actually cried real tears when they sent me the video of their baby eating solid food for the first time. Who doesn't cry at that? I finally got to see them a few weeks ago. My friend wore that baby like a champ as we shopped, talked, and caught up. I thought many times, I'll never be able to be a mom like her.<br />
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I wonder if our moms thought about us becoming mothers? We were both young, but I assume it had crossed their minds. I wonder if they were nervous or scared for us? What I do know is they probably both expected to be here for these moments. That may be what hurts the most, still, after all these years.<br />
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But my best friend, she's incredibly strong, and despite the sad moments, she really has owned motherhood. And she's simultaneously helped me stay sane as I've battled a difficult year without my own mom. So.much.life.<br />
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My friend is lucky. She had a great mom, just like I did. I'm not a mother, but I wonder if being a great mom is similar to what my mom told me about great leaders. Like somehow my friend, my brother, my sister, and even myself have managed to continue to grow after my mother died. We haven't been perfect. We haven't always made the right choices. But somehow, after 13 years being gone, I still feel her love and still hear her voice when I'm making decisions. And that's the part of her that I know I'll share with my kids if I ever become a mom. Not the times that she fed me ice-cream for dinner, yelled at me for no reason, or picked me up from school an hour late. Because let's be honest, she had her moments. But does any of that matter if I'm able to grow, succeed, treat people with decency and just live...even after she's gone?<br />
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I believe that you make a lot of choices in life that lead you different directions. Some are good and some are bad. My mother is not the person responsible for my success or failure. But she did equip me to be able to make decisions on my own (good or bad) and held the promise of unconditional love, even when she couldn't show it. I feel like that is what counts, so I can forgive her in the long run for forcing me to eat meatloaf that caused me to throw up at the dinner table.<br />
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I've been wanting to hear from my mom the past six months, even knowing it's not possible. I miss her. Thankfully, I have my family and my friends that are like family to get me through the hard times. I bet she wondered how I would turn out, if she had messed me up royally. I hope she can see where I've been and where I'm going. I hope she can see how totally incredible my brother and sister are. I am just part of my mother's legacy.When I get really sad, or think about the bad times with her, instead of the good, I pull out the letters she sent me at camp in 2002 that remind me what a good mom she was and how much I was unconditionally loved.<br />
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An excerpt:<br />
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<i>Carmen actually rode the horse today. I didn't stay for the lesson, but I guess everything went okay. She's not dead of anything. LOL. She said the horse was slobbery. </i><br />
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<i>We got Grandpa a pair of shorts today to mow his lawn and your dad is going to give him enough money to pay for his upper dentures.</i><br />
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<i>Larry and Julia are going to St. Luis this weekend. The Royals play in St. Louis. I hope they beat St. Louis in their own stadium--that would be so awesome. </i><br />
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<i>Aunt Vickie went crazy when I told her you aren't allowed to call. The more I think about it, the sillier it seems t not let you call home. They could have designated times for doing that. If you decide to go next year, then we'll have to talk to someone about that. </i><br />
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<i>Time to turn in. Wish I had something interesting to tell you. You take care and don't drown yourself. Hurry up and come home. Okay?</i><br />
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<i>Love,</i><br />
<i>Mom. </i><br />
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Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. You're doing a good job.<br />
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<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-2121098610682360792015-11-21T08:57:00.000-08:002015-11-21T08:57:19.478-08:00365 daysI met Eric when he was 19 years old. That's an alarming thought to me, since my favorite guy will be turning 30 this year. When we met, we were just kids.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Katie (19), Eric (20)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eric @ 19 years old.</td></tr>
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This was before we made a documentary. It was before we ran a half-marathon. It was before we started working together. It was before we traveled together to chase our dreams.</div>
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It was before Eric was a landowner.</div>
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It was before Eric became an amazing Uncle.</div>
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It was before Eric produced his first game.</div>
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It was before the Royals won the World Series.</div>
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It was before we became best friends.</div>
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It was before we fell in love.</div>
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We've shared over a decade of friendship. We've shared over a decade of fun, laughter, challenges and heartache. But of all the years and all the memories, these last 365 days have been the best. We've had a great time taking on life as a team and embarking on several new adventures. I've learned so much about myself and so much about the love of my life. Perhaps most importantly, I've watched Eric become the man I always knew he would be.</div>
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God willing, we will share many more incredible years. Since we are adults now, it won't always be the easy days of Well's Hall or sitting in my dad's driveway talking about our hopes and dreams for the future. But that's really where it all started over 10 years ago. And I'll always be grateful for every little moment that got us here and I look forward to all the little unknown moments that we'll have in the future.</div>
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Happy one-year of official coupledom, Eric! Let's celebrate by running a couple miles. </div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-80493333565682094232015-09-13T14:16:00.002-07:002015-09-13T14:16:36.520-07:00Finding peaceEric and I have been best friends for nearly a decade, and over the course of those ten years I've learned a lot about him. He's learned a lot about me as well. We've discovered many things we have in common and several items that we just agree to disagree on. For instance, we can both listen to Willie Nelson all day, spend a day fishing, and eat chili every other day of the week. But he'll never convince me to drink coffee & beer and I'll never be able to get him to fully commit his heart to Garth Brooks. <br />
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I've discovered over the past year that Eric is a lot more laid back than I am. He's organized and diligent, but during crisis he remains mostly calm. I'm a bit more severe in my reactions to things (thanks mom and dad), but I'm also more process-oriented and efficient. Different things drive us crazy. I can't stand being late or understand how people can be so snide or disrespectful to each other in the work place. Eric isn't upset like I am if there is a change-of-plans or bump in the road, but he's easily frazzled by messes and broken things he can't fix immediately. He doesn't want to write all day and I don't want to spend time fixing the lawn mower, but we respect each other's talents and value our differences.<br />
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We love a lot of the same things and we love each other. We find peace in the same things, like a good book, good music, wine on the patio, a day at the lake, a hike in the woods, or a perfectly grilled steak after the longest day of work. We love our families, the peace of the outdoors, and time away from work and technology. We both have a desire to constantly learn new things and grow individually and as a couple. We both know the value of not trying to serve as our own Gods. <br />
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Last year, Eric and I started talking about what we wanted our lives to look like five or ten years from that day, and I wasn't surprised that our hopes for the future were eerily similar. It has always been a dream of mine to live away from the city with some land and space to create or learn new things. I've always felt a bit displaced in suburbia and at the end of hard days, I find no peace in busy roads, crowded bars, or long (very long in some cases) Netflix binges. Same goes for Eric.<br />
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However, I'm the first to admit that I've always readily taken advantage of every convenience offered to me. And I'm not upset about that. Eric has lived in downtown Kansas City for five years. Being his girlfriend, I spent a lot of time there and have no shame in the fact that I took advantage of every single thing that city life had to offer. I could walk to the grocery store, movie theatre, bar, the gym. I could order carry-out from pretty much any restaurant I wanted. I could either walk to get it or have them deliver it. Eric had google fiber which I imagine is how people felt when the microwave was invented. I had Netflix, Hulu, AND Amazon Prime. It.was.awesome. But there is no peace in it for me.<br />
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Unfortunately, instant gratification can be pretty debilitating - at least for me. I would consider my self a very self-sufficient human being. I've been taking care of myself for a long time, but I feel like there are life skills I lack that my grandpa would be ashamed of. People used to have to grow food to survive. This year I killed four of five potted plants that Eric bought for his back patio (the tomatoes survived) No one and nothing has ever depended on me for survival, unless you count Garth - but let's be honest, he pretty much takes care of me. I just learned what the "broil" button controls in the oven, this year. For the first time in over 28 years, I have fully grasped North, South, East and West without looking at MapQuest, Google Maps, or asking my dad. This past year I had to start calling many people every day for work. I was ill-prepared to speak as a grown human being (business woman), because I've spent the past ten years firing off instant messages, texts, and quick, incoherent e-mails. I don't know what I was more mortified by, my ineptitude or the fact that everyone I encountered was just as bad off as I was. I'm considering having Garth take over my business dealings. <br />
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About three months ago, Eric found a beautiful house out in the country with 40 acres- some cropland, some pasture, a large barn, and a beautiful stable. We fell in love. I love nothing more than the idea of being connected to all the luxuries of modern living, but also having space to explore and tranquility to enjoy without the constant hustle of every day life. I watched Eric fight for the property on different levels. Last week, after a lot of waiting, turmoil, and moving woes, we got everything moved to the new place. I am a firm believer that you can make any house a home, but it feels like such a blessing to find the exact type of place we pictured our futures. <br />
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Lots of people asked Eric, "What are you going to do with that land?" or "Why would you want to live all the way out there?" There are plans for the future (nothing immediate), for a lot of things on this land, but for now I think Eric is just enjoying the serenity of "country living". I know I am. Not everyone can find their dream home before 30 and make it a reality. Eric was able to do that and I am so excited to continue our journey together. I'm excited for all the learning that will have to happen to maintain this beautiful property and all the ways we can utilize it in coming years. I believe that you can make any house a home, but I'm excited that Eric found a place to call home that can bring so much peace for both of us and hopefully any family, friends, critters, or future kids (goats and humans) that want to spend time out here. <br />
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Garth was really enthused about going to a new house. Eric said he could come, but Garth has the same feelings on moving as I do.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Ci3E5b5JSoyBNL-VeZzGntBmf4yPiyBUYeYO-pjFwFAHDiHgSXskJGDSpRdQ2qaYape6q7f9cpa1H8gTPz6UURz2oDa-E0r-WK2MzzOQkj-PWJ9CEPVSQY8QAx3jzTMN9yXEkrg_Lq-s/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Ci3E5b5JSoyBNL-VeZzGntBmf4yPiyBUYeYO-pjFwFAHDiHgSXskJGDSpRdQ2qaYape6q7f9cpa1H8gTPz6UURz2oDa-E0r-WK2MzzOQkj-PWJ9CEPVSQY8QAx3jzTMN9yXEkrg_Lq-s/s320/photo+4.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'll go, but I'm not packing anything."</td></tr>
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Saying goodbye to Eric's house in the city was more difficult than I thought. It was there that Eric and I watched our dream of making a documentary come to fruition. We had fun painting the whole house and installing hardwood floors in the basement. <span id="goog_1871755943"></span><span id="goog_1871755944"></span><br />
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It was at his house that he and Garth became best friends.</div>
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It was there that Eric and I decided we wanted to commit to each other. It's where we started our next documentary, started our new jobs together, and shared our first kiss. I don't want to say I cried when I said goodbye to it, but I did. It's just a house, just like the new one is. But those memories are important to me and I'll always remember them there - the way it looked, the way it smelled. But there is a new place to make new memories, and it was one of the happiest days of my life when I went with Eric to the house for the first time after he got the keys.</div>
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You can dream about something your whole life, knowing that it may very well never happen. That's how I felt about falling in love with Eric and that's how I feel about his new house. I dreamed of ending up with someone like Eric, but didn't know it would ever happen and that it could be everything and more than I ever wanted and needed. I hoped that one day we would find this house, but I didn't know it could actually be a reality. </div>
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Cheers to life's next adventure!</div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-17124120628792166282015-07-26T20:14:00.002-07:002015-07-26T20:14:38.162-07:00Or die tri-ing<div>
Last year my friend Dena competed in a triathlon and she convinced me to sign up for it this year. For the low-low price of $115 , you too can become a triathlete. All joking aside, the event is really worth it. It offers just the type of encouragement that first time participants need and a lot of extra love that you don't see in other races. The Win For KC Triathlon is an all-women, sprint tri that requires a 500 meter swim, 10 mile bike, and 5k run. I can confidently tell you that I can complete each leg of this tri as a stand-alone event. That thought is so incredible to me. Three years ago, I was winded walking around Target or chasing my nephew around. But now, even out-of-shape, I can muddle through each of the legs individually. However, I was very surprised to discover how incredibly challenging it was to put them all together. </div>
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I'm still struggling to find my groove in the exercise and diet routine. I have the same typical life excuses that everyone else does, and even though I've tried to keep a fairly consistent exercise routine, I didn't "train" to the extent I needed to. I didn't lose any weight to make strenuous exercise easier on my knees or re-train my lungs to function for me during an endurance event. A week before the event I successfully completed the 10 mile bike portion of the triathlon and two miles of the run. It was difficult, but very doable. It gave me the little bit of confidence I needed to recommit to completing this triathlon, which is a huge point on my bucket list! Unfortunately, I still had that pesky swim portion to think about. </div>
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Last Tuesday, I participated in my first "open water" swim. So basically I got in the lake, started swimming, and hoped I didn't drown before the teenage lifeguards could get to me on my kayaks. Someone who is participating in an outdoor triathlon should probably do a lot of these swims before race day, but sickness, flooded lakes, and a busy work schedule left me ill-prepared and scared. The whole open water thing was a lot different than swimming laps at the YMCA. I couldn't see ANYthing. I can't walk a straight line sober, and I quickly learned that this same level of direction and grace applies to my swimming practices. But overall, I felt pretty decent about surviving the swim part of my first triathlon, only a few days away. <div>
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On Wednesday I picked up my race packet. It included the timing chip that velcroed around my ankle. <i>Oh, this is gonna weigh me down.</i> <i>I'll just subtract two minutes off my total time to account for this monstrosity.</i> (Actual size...miniscule). It also included the complimentary t-shirt. <i>Why is this so small? Did I order this size? Yep, I did. Oh, I thought I would lose weight...training. </i>There was also the race bib and bike tab. <i>868? I can dig it.</i> And let's not forget the swim cap.<br /><div>
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The swim cap had been giving me nightmares for a few days. I've never worn a swim cap and I was convinced I couldn't fit one on my giant noggin. And just like I expected, I put it on to discover that my humongous head was just popping it off like it does headbands. I considered my options. I could back out of the race to avoid embarrassment, or I could use just my legs for the swim portion, while I held down my swim cap. <i>Challenge accepted! </i>Then I realized that my cap came with instructions and my mini-panic was all for naught. I had it on incorrectly. The swim cap fit just fine. I'm an idiot.</div>
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Before I knew it, race day was here. It was an early morning with a lot of waiting around before getting in the water. I had a few jitters, but mostly specifically to transitioning from one event to another. I've now participated in enough organized events like this that I don't fear them anymore. I was mostly ready for the challenge. </div>
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I hit the water and I.FELT.AWESOME. I've always confidently owned my slowness. I mean for pete's sake, at least I'm out there giving it all I've got. I'm a slow biker, an even slower runner. I mean, I run slower than some people walk. And I know it's not important, but I wasn't the slowest person in the water. I found it strangely invigorating to be passing people. I felt powerful and it pushed me to swim even harder. I am not fast by any means, but it was nice to feel okay at something for a change.</div>
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I'm looking forward to seeing the pictures as we exited the water (and then immediately deleting them), because I know exactly what I looked like as I came out on the boat ramp. </div>
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I felt awesome and accomplished. So, I booked it! I ran past people walking to the transition area.I made it to my bike, dried my feet, put on my helmet and headed up the hill for the bike portion. One pedal, two pedal, three pedal, uh-oh....</div>
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I made it only a quarter of a mile before I felt really sick. I got off my bike on the side of the road. My heart was pumping, I could barely breathe, I felt light-headed. I had never felt like this before, but I dropped my head between my legs and drank water for five minutes straight. I was 15 seconds away from walking my bike back to the start and not completing the race. But I suddenly felt much better. I paid over $200 to compete in this. Screw you, body. I was going to complete this race or die tri-ing! (See what I did there?) I still felt winded, but I got on my bike and slowly started pedaling. It was an uphill battle (literally) and I took it as slow as possible so I could monitor my heart rate and avoid over-exerting my lungs again. The bike portion took me 30 minutes longer than it did only one week earlier. </div>
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That was pretty devastating to me. But I should have listened to my sister, "Don't go out like an asshole". Doing well in something felt so good that I applied way too much effort in my first leg of the race. Adrenaline, sprinting between transitions, and not hydrating for the weather is probably what got me. It almost ended my race before it really started and it scared the living bejesus out of me. That 10-mile bike ride was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life physically because I used all my physical strength to build up my body just to get back on my bike. When it ended, the finish line seemed so near. But I still had the run.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Probably not ideal to take your pre-race photo in front of an ambulance. It's like I was asking to need a medic on the course!</td></tr>
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I got off my bike and took it slow, drinking plenty of water before I headed over to the run trail. I started jogging and immediately experienced excruciating cramps in my side and legs. I walked the first mile of the 5k slanted to the side, trying to stretch the cramp out. Gatorade saved my life at the first hydration station. I was able to jog a bit for the remaining part of the 5k, but mostly I just walked-taking it easy to avoid any other medical issues. The running trail was lined with inspirational words from spectators. "You can do this! You are beautiful! Sweat now, wine later!" Every woman I passed had something sweet to say or a quick word of encouragement. That was unlike anything else I've ever been a part of.</div>
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Eventually, I crossed the finish line. I was last in my age group and only 20 people finished behind me. It didn't end like I thought it would when I started. I was pretty disappointed, but of course happy I survived. For not training like I should have and not taking care of my body, I should have been thrilled. I learned a valuable lesson about protecting my body during this race. I'm not invincible, but I am strong. I told my friend Dena that I loved her and hated her in the same breath. It was the most difficult thing I've ever done.</div>
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I took a few moments to reflect on the past few years after the race. Since 2012, I've completed two 5ks, one 10k, a half marathon, and now a triathlon. And I can't help but think that if I can do these things, anyone can. Not only that, but if I can do these things, what CAN'T I do? Pushing myself to do these things and setting goals has helped me form the confidence I need to take on my career and and other life challenges.</div>
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Sometimes you have to walk. Sometimes you finish last. And sometimes you put your swim cap on wrong. But being slow and looking stupid has failed to keep me from accomplishing my goals these days. I wonder what's next?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0PaOkD-M8KL-V4Ks9LMLDSElG24hMSitf9jSqqApRLFrDJSr_H3g6x84zIoAvUjaVDBrO8_MJkoWGXkQgtrtkaN8gbUlGq4DbfC8Ioyi8AHsjHuTiKVXHeBZZrmAlQc8o0IoUjpTTYve/s1600/photo+3+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0PaOkD-M8KL-V4Ks9LMLDSElG24hMSitf9jSqqApRLFrDJSr_H3g6x84zIoAvUjaVDBrO8_MJkoWGXkQgtrtkaN8gbUlGq4DbfC8Ioyi8AHsjHuTiKVXHeBZZrmAlQc8o0IoUjpTTYve/s320/photo+3+%25282%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Realized I was going to see the finish line.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtChW9hx_eeqYAOCUafeZB8rdG51xzNq0y1uxi7F9gVDTSLXib0UU-BybGhaGOhNXL-0GQAE_Lguvn9fUTMaFkJdSEnb0EP7a1ItNFzDsPfUYrCjzFknYqWBTg6WaVA7NcPqZ9mah02H8z/s1600/photo+5+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtChW9hx_eeqYAOCUafeZB8rdG51xzNq0y1uxi7F9gVDTSLXib0UU-BybGhaGOhNXL-0GQAE_Lguvn9fUTMaFkJdSEnb0EP7a1ItNFzDsPfUYrCjzFknYqWBTg6WaVA7NcPqZ9mah02H8z/s320/photo+5+%25282%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look...a "gold"medal!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_WjRjm4UcvFJE3F38egvE6TvcxLLMXLVOq5NCXP4rk9cMfS7sTTcOhtIkKdcebV78lw_S5NtXsBgwD_kC4jpA6mMCT8JsK-kOKJ5-OHXFE5mFwdmjc4fp3oBQZ2-Bw2wZU1YCF5oQ9-ED/s1600/photo+1+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_WjRjm4UcvFJE3F38egvE6TvcxLLMXLVOq5NCXP4rk9cMfS7sTTcOhtIkKdcebV78lw_S5NtXsBgwD_kC4jpA6mMCT8JsK-kOKJ5-OHXFE5mFwdmjc4fp3oBQZ2-Bw2wZU1YCF5oQ9-ED/s320/photo+1+%25282%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post-race meal from my sweetie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-66577471148668879472015-06-02T19:50:00.002-07:002015-06-02T19:50:59.499-07:00Tri Tri TriA little over a year ago, I ran a half marathon. Now it is close to impossible for me to put two miles in without having to stop to walk. My heart rate shoots up. I get winded before I reach the quarter mile mark. I'm out of shape. It has been depressing.<br />
<br />
I've grown to dislike running as a sport. I've always loved what it does for my body, and how I feel when I finish a run. But the physical act of running took a huge toll on my body the past couple years. It's mostly because I didn't make keeping my body healthy a priority. When you're training for a long run, you have to be constantly running. I had only a couple "off days" a week, and it never seemed like quite enough time to recover.<br />
<br />
I started training for a triathlon recently. On July 25th I will swim 500 meters, bike 10 miles, and run a 5k. The biggest victory I've had so far is discovering that swimming is naturally protecting my body. I've incorporated swimming into my workouts at least three days a week. I.Love.it. Quite honestly, nothing feels better than swimming after my harder bike rides and longer runs. Given, my longer runs are closer to two miles now than eight or nine, but I've still seen a major difference in how quickly my body bounces back after a workout.<br />
<br />
I've discovered something else. I may always suck at running. I think I'll always run on some level because it provides me the greatest bang for my buck. But it is definitely still the most difficult for me out of the three. I'm pretty much at ground zero, struggling to find motivation on my running days to fit in a mile. I can do this though!<br />
<br />
Biking is way harder than I anticipated. Slowly but surely I am making strides in that department. I guess I never learned anything about changing gears on my bike growing up. It took several grueling Smithville Lake bike rides for Eric to teach me the ins and outs of shifting gears. I think I've finally grasped that though. All I have to do is survive the hard rides.<br />
<br />
The good news? Swimming hasn't sucked. I've found something that I want to become better at. I think if I continue working on my swimming after this triathlon is over, I might even become good at it. That's a really motivating feeling and it has inspired me when I've felt like throwing in the towel on this whole triathlon thing.<br />
<br />
A couple weeks ago, we biked seven miles and then I told Eric I was going to go for a quick run. I lasted .10 miles. Why? Do you remember moon shoes?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCE1adRgvIzSVyl6U3soNX6C4xW2sSf32rN9XXLv1HInPt2VkXJdtOxywcr9azonUWQJC_0w4efFF1KKx7bALRBpR_QIYZ5tGiC5axwWu2epTsGiAwzW9GcBij6wLDiCVPAkWpMOjOwVqF/s1600/moonshoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCE1adRgvIzSVyl6U3soNX6C4xW2sSf32rN9XXLv1HInPt2VkXJdtOxywcr9azonUWQJC_0w4efFF1KKx7bALRBpR_QIYZ5tGiC5axwWu2epTsGiAwzW9GcBij6wLDiCVPAkWpMOjOwVqF/s320/moonshoes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
It felt like I was running in those. I almost fell on my face. A week later I did a four mile bike ride and then jogged a half mile. We will call that progress...I guess.<br />
<br />
It has felt good to have a goal again. The weight is finally starting to come off again, but this time it's very slowly. I'm focusing on my training and looking forward to more mini-successes on my journey to my first tri!<br />
<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-69391463289290962172015-05-20T18:33:00.001-07:002015-05-20T18:33:49.858-07:00The things we don't want to talk aboutMy first triathlon is at the end of July. I have to swim 500 meters, bike 10 miles, and run a 5K. I have to do all of this without dying (to be considered successful). I started my training about three weeks ago. The training has been new and exciting. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions as I've conquered days that I thought would kill me and struggled through other days that I thought should have been easy.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, Eric and I rode our bikes around the downtown airport in Kansas City. It's a 4 mile loop with only a couple hard hills. I felt confident as we took off, but was soon discouraged as people raced past me. My stubby legs can only pedal so fast. My weak legs tried to propel me through the wind. I was mortified as I shifted my bike into it's lowest gear and quite literally inched up the one steep hill. Veteran cyclists whizzed past me, going up the hill. I felt embarrassed. I didn't want to do another lap once I reached the starting point, but I did. I had plenty on my mind to think about.<br />
<br />
I've been feeling a little defeated lately, reflecting on years past and the constant abuse I put my body through for the majority of my life. Anyone that reads my blog knows that I've been struggling this past year to feel beautiful, working diligently to create and sustain a positive self image. But I was reminded this month how little those feelings can matter compared to overall health.<br />
<br />
I've shared multiple times that I was put on blood pressure medication close to when I started my weight loss journey. I don't know if I ever shared that before that happened, it had been over seven years since I had been to the doctor. Sure, I cut part of my thumb off in college and had to go to the emergency room-but I always skipped those pesky yearly physicals. Why? It was unbearably embarrassing. I felt like doctors looked down at me and I didn't want anyone else in my life telling me I needed to lose weight. <i>I'm fat. I get it. </i>You don't weigh over 350 pounds and think<i>, hmm...I wonder if I'm overweight? </i>It's not like I needed a professional to tell me that. I lived it every day, felt it every day.<br />
<br />
So, I stayed away. After I went to the doctor that first time in 2012, it was monthly visits to check my blood pressure. They did blood tests to check for other ailments caused by obesity. They didn't find anything too alarming, so they focused on getting my blood pressure under control. It was only a year later and more than 100 pounds gone that I got to kiss my blood pressure medication goodbye. I felt vindicated. I felt like I stomped all those health concerns associated with obesity. <i>I am not a statistic.</i> Good blood pressure, good blood sugar, great resting heart rate. I had become an athlete and reversed years of damage to my body.<br />
<br />
But here's the thing, you can't just fix everything just like that. Like a smoker who finally smokes his last cigarette or the alcoholic that takes his last drink- I felt new. But some health problems that result from over-indulgence in things like nicotine, alcohol, and even food develop over time.<br />
<br />
I found out about a month ago that I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). For those of you not familiar with this, it's a hormonal endocrine disorder that puts you at risk for high blood pressure, diabetes, cancer of the uterus, and infertility. Bummer. It can be caused by obesity and also <i>cause </i>obesity. Vicious cycle.I was sort of expecting this diagnosis, but it was still hard to process when the doctor called. The good news is, I have no signs of insulin resistance. Diabetes and high blood pressure are not even close to on the radar right now. This is probably because I now exercise regularly and try to eat healthy (though not always successful). I'm bummed because if I had never been morbidly obese- I probably wouldn't be facing this health issue.<br />
<br />
The doctor said that as I lose more weight, I'll see more and more PCOS symptoms subside. She also mentioned that with PCOS, it's best to conceive all children before I'm 35 years old. With children on the future (but not immediate) radar, I find myself frustrated with..well...myself. There's no proof that my obesity caused my PCOS, but it's likely and I hope I can continue on my path to better me and better health so that I don't face fertility issues in the future.<br />
<br />
When the doctor called to confirm PCOS I wasn't surprised. I was surprised when she said, "Your liver enzymes are elevated and I think it would be best if we did an ultrasound." <i>My liver? I don't take tylenol. I'm not a heavy drinker. What could possibly be wrong with my liver?</i><br />
<br />
"It's probably fatty liver," she told me.<br />
<br />
Is that the politically correct term? Do we have to call it <i>fatty</i> liver?<br />
<br />
"But it could be lesions or something else so we really need to take a look. We want it to be fatty liver. You'll just live with it and probably have no complications. Very few people develop liver disease from it. Almost all morbidly obese people have it."<br />
<br />
Two things stood out to me. "Very few people develop liver disease". <i>Very few? Okay, that's more than zero which was my hope when it came to my chances of developing liver disease</i>. Also, "Almost all morbidly obese people have this."<br />
<br />
I'm not morbidly obese...<br />
<br />
But I was.<br />
<br />
I've never had an abdominal ultrasound. The technician scanned over my abdomen. She kept going back to the same spot and taking more pictures. I started to become nervous and then scared. I was crying by the time I left. I had a million things racing through my mind. What if it's a lesion? What if it is fatty liver? Will that be a problem? Perhaps most prevalent, what if it's cancer?<br />
<br />
<i>God. I'm not ready to die.</i><br />
<br />
I had to wait nearly seven days for them to call me and let me know that the ultrasound looked good. They are going to do my blood tests again in a few months and see if anything changed. I felt relieved, and now I feel determined. If this is the life I have and the body I have to live it, I'm going to treat it properly. I know I won't always be perfect. I'll indulge. I'll skip workouts and sometimes eat too much. But gone are the days of treating my body like it doesn't matter. I can't just workout and eat right because I want to feel good about myself and look pretty. Those are great motivators, but my mind and soul will have no chance of succeeding if I don't take care of my body. <br />
<br />
I've been seeing a lot of positive articles on body image in regards to overweight or curvy women. It's great. I wish there had been more words and imagery like that when I was younger. If I felt beautiful earlier on in life, I may have been more motivated to take care of myself.<br />
<br />
But there are some hard truths we need to face. I don't want to talk about my health issues or battles I'm still facing as I try to overcome my demons and live right. It can be embarrassing. I sometimes still feel guilt for living like I did. It comes and goes. I'm starting to also feel victorious and accomplished for deciding that my life was worth enough to try...try to reverse some of the damage my body faced.<br />
<br />
It's great to feel beautiful, but healthy feels even better. I want to tell you something that no one wants to talk about anymore....<br />
<br />
You can be beautiful and obese, but it's really difficult to be obese and perfectly healthy.<br />
<br />
I really wanted to ignore that fact and prove science wrong.<i> Look world, I can be obese, successful, beautiful, and healthy. </i>My genes have me programmed to be overweight and to support the extra weight. Larger heart, strong legs. I should be perfectly fine. But things aren't perfect, even though they are fine for now.<br />
<i><br /></i>
I don't want people to look at the idea of weight loss as giving into some sort of societal expectation. When you're extremely overweight, eating right, working out, and losing weight is not saying to the world, "I don't feel beautiful how I am." It's about saying to yourself, I am worth it. I am doing this because I <i>am </i>beautiful.<br />
<br />
The journey continues for me. It will be a lifelong journey of ups and downs. I hope my overall health will continue to improve. I'm going to try my hardest to not get embarrassed by my lack-of-speed or poor technique. At least if I'm out there...I'm trying. I'd love some company. If there is anyone out there ready for a change, big or small- just let me know. My biggest ally in all of this has been this blog and the people who have helped me through the difficult times. We can do this!Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-61935955053025464952015-05-09T19:55:00.001-07:002015-05-09T19:55:24.769-07:00The day the world didn't stop<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Mom,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I thought about you on my drive home tonight. They are
predicting storms all weekend and I drove through one of them tonight. I
remember growing up how storms never fazed you. You didn’t care if there was
lightning, thunder, or tornado sirens going off. You would just sit there as I gathered up all
the animals and all my favorite belongings (like my NSync cd and disturbing
collection of furbies). I never understood why you didn’t seem to care. You’d
just keep reading or writing or balancing the checkbook. Before you died, I
dreamt of a tornado hitting our house, you refusing to come downstairs and
continuing to do the dishes. I’ve had that dream since you died too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mom. I remember how sunny it was the day you died<i>. Or was that the day before? Or the day
after?</i> It all runs together. But I remember standing in the driveway
thinking, this is not how I pictured this. <i>Shouldn’t
it be pouring rain? Shouldn’t the world be flooding with tears? Why does this
feel like I’m going to go to sleep tonight and actually wake up tomorrow? How
is that kid still riding down the street on his bicycle? How are phones still
ringing?</i> Wouldn’t it make sense that when this Earth loses someone as
important as you, the world just stops?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I guess I was wrong about that. I learned that lesson
the day you died. I learned it without you. I’ve had to learn a lot of things
without you. I had to learn how to pluck my eyebrows and curl my hair. I still
pretty much suck at both of them, but I can do it. I had to learn how to talk to guys without
sounding like a complete whacko. I had to learn to not be a complete whacko. I
had to learn how to interview for a job, write a professional e-mail, and dress
for success. Although, based on the
things you dressed me in during your lifetime—that last one might be for the
best. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve stumbled through all these lessons because I have great
support. Kudos for having Rikki and I 17 years apart. Who knew we’d end up
actually liking each other. I can hear
you in her voice and see you in her strength. I catch myself wondering what it
would be like to have you both in the same room again. I think that every time
I see Aunt Vickie too. It’s the way she tilts her head when she’s listening and
that smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been dealing with a lot of things lately. They are life
things that people just have to face as they get older, childhood becomes a
thing of the past, and we move forward. I think I’m handling things okay, but
it sure would be nice if you could be here. I’m afraid I’ll scare Eric off by
word-vomiting everything that young women usually say to their mothers. I’m
sure he’s tired of hearing about my cat, the money I saved by buying off the clearance
rack, and laundry. But seriously, I put a shirt in the dryer today that needed
to be hang dried and it was super upsetting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eric has asked me before if you two would have gotten along.
Frankly, you would have loved him. I’m fully confident that you would be one of
those people that would break through to the best part of him in no time at
all. He is so funny, witty, and smart. I wish you could see him smile when he’s
really tickled about something. It’s the sort of thing kids write home to mom
about. <i>See what I did there? Write to mom
about…</i>I also know that you would have irritated the crap out of him by
calling him unnecessarily and checking in with him regularly. I think that
thought delights me the most, but only because it’s sweet in your own way. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sometimes wonder if you knew your time on Earth was short.
Can God communicate that in some way? Is that why every feeling you had seemed
so passionate? Happiness, sadness, anger, and love. All of them seemed so
intense for you. Is that why you never seemed fazed by impending doom? Perhaps,
to you, the thought of sitting through a tornado seemed no more risky than
walking out the front door in the morning. Maybe you knew the storm would pass.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you told me you were dying, you held my hand, and
through tears told me, “I’ll always be in your heart.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wanted you to know
that’s true. You must have known it was when you told me. I wanted you to know
I’m doing just fine. I’m making it through this crazy life. And thanks to other
great moms and a lot of prayer, I’m learning the things I need to. There are
days I wish you were here in person. Days I wish you could hug me and tell me
everything is going to be alright. There are still days I wonder why the world
didn’t just stop the day you left us. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sun will come out tomorrow (or the next day). The phone
will ring (likely before I want to wake up). I’ll ride my bike (I’m training
for a triathlon , ya know). Life on this Earth will continue. But I’m happy to
say that I know, you’ll always be in my heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy Mother’s Day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love,<br />
Katie<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-26504693132558847552015-04-26T17:05:00.003-07:002015-04-26T17:05:43.904-07:00AdulthoodYesterday, I woke up to a work phone call around 8:00 A.M. There was a problem at one of our events. I spent the rest of the day dealing with the issue off and on. I rearranged my day to be certain I'd be available to receive and make phone calls. I called my dad in the middle of the day. We exchanged small talk, but I was close to tears when I told him, "I don't know how you've been doing this for over 30 years." I was talking about his job, but what I really meant was, "I don't know how you've been doing adulthood for over 30 years."<br />
<br />
I've spent this entire year trying to balance everything...a serious relationship, my career, our documentary, my health, friendships, finances, and perhaps most importantly...laundry. I've failed miserably at the laundry part and I've struggled with balance and the serious fight to remain a child when God and the world has catapulted me into adulthood.<br />
<br />
I think you become an adult somewhere between 14 and 43. This is just based on my observations over the past 28 years. It doesn't happen overnight and a person dressed in adulthood may look very different from the next person. There are some things about adulthood that no one prepared me for and other facts of life that adults warned me about but I didn't believe...<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>The struggle to decide where to eat on date night is REAL</b><br />
At first it was cute. Let's spend two hours going back and forth about letting the other person pick a place. You get to pick because I love you so much. It wasn't long before this little game turned dark. Hunger quickly turns to HANGer when you're trying to make it through a day.<br />
<br />
Eric:"Where do you wanna go?"<br />
Katie:"I don't care babe. You pick."<br />
E:"No. You pick. Anything sounds good."<br />
K:"Minsky's?"<br />
E:"Eww...no. Not tonight."<br />
K:"Harry's?"<br />
E:"Mmmm...No."<br />
K: "I will murder you."<br />
<br />
<b>The desire to cook actual meals with real ingredients</b><br />
I don't know what the going rate is for a Lean Cuisine meal these days. I haven't had a frozen dinner in over a year. I made macaroni from a box a few weeks ago. It tasted like heaven. But most days I legitimately enjoy cooking. I like looking up new recipes and experimenting with spices. I'm delighted and saddened that I just used the phrase "experimenting with spices". I learned words like "blanch"and the purpose of "clarified butter." I also learned that baking soda is more than just an air freshener for the refrigerator. As I type this, I have a red sauce simmering. It will be finished in about three hours. It will take us 15 minutes to eat. This will be my biggest accomplishment of the day.<br />
<br />
<b>The desire to share photos of my meals made with real ingredients</b><br />
Seriously, though. I spent four hours making this sauce. I want to share it with you, but since you're not coming over, please experience it through social media. I don't have kids, so posting pictures of these food babies seems only appropriate...mostly because my cat, Garth, has only so many angles. I don't want you to get tired of snapshots of him.<br />
<br />
<b>The need to post pictures of my cat</b><br />
You can't stop me from doing this. I'm sure even Eric enjoys Garth posts while he's gone. It's good for the world to know what he's up to, like which way he's stretching while he sleeps. But seriously, when I get a free moment in life, I like to spend time with him. He's my kid, and he looks best in the Valencia filter.<br />
<br />
<b>Taylor Swift stopped writing songs about me</b><br />
"I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 22!"<br />
Just...No. I'm waiting for her release of, "I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 82. Let's eat dinner at four and be in bed by seven."<br />
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Don't get me wrong, it wasn't long ago that I was jamming out to songs about being young and 22, and falling asleep reflecting on lyrics like, "But she wears short skirts, and I wear t-shirts. She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers..."<br />
<i>You understood me Taylor. I felt your pain.</i><br />
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But I woke up one day and Taylor and I weren't on the same level. These days I leave work thinking, "Give me two pina coladas. I need one for each hand," and fall asleep thinking, "Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers." Garth Brooks is officially my music soul mate. I've been waiting my whole life for this moment, but damn Taylor Swift's music is still so damn catchy. I'm willing to adjust my allegiances to the first person who writes a song about cooking a 4-hour spaghetti sauce and posting pictures of your cat.<br />
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<b>The excitement associated with saving a buck</b><br />
If I had been half as concerned with my finances as I am now, in college, I'd be a lot better off. We aren't putting blueberries in our smoothies this week because raspberries are on sale. Blueberry smoothies are my favorite, but do you know what else tastes good? The sweet flavor of financial freedom. Every dollar counts, because I may give up a lot of blueberries this year, but I'll also get to travel to my favorite lake to fish and be able to afford my student loan payments.<br />
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<b>How I'm totally okay with watching TV in my free time</b><br />
I work a lot. I know I'll look back 30 years from now and think I worked too much. But it is what it is right now and part of who I am. Something I won't regret is using free moments of my life to put on sweatpants and watch Law & Order: SVU. I used to pride myself on using free time to go out and live it up.I never watched TV or spent time reading. I never stopped. It was exciting. These days, I'm most excited by being able to breathe and sometimes that means watching a lot of Mariska Hargitay (Bonus if it's the Christopher Meloni episodes) or reading about World War II or triathlon training.<br />
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<b>That love can get you through</b><br />
I always thought that being single made me powerful and independent. I am woman. Here me roar. I think I found love at the exact time I needed it in my life. Life is funny like that and God is good. I'm not sure how I would have survived this year without Eric. Work has been an incredible challenge and the learn-as-we-go approach to life and adulthood has sometimes left us exhausted and upset, but at the end of the day, we get to say, "We will make it through this together." That is powerful. I adore that man and can't wait for our next adventure.<br />
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I've learned a lot more this year, but my sauce will be done soon and I haven't even started the meatballs. Thankfully, this Law & Order marathon will continue for another hour. Adulthood isn't easy, but I'm making it. I'm not positive, but I think the best is yet to come.<br />
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<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-48983987407969893462015-02-03T19:36:00.001-08:002015-02-03T19:36:32.072-08:00BeautyI haven't been blogging much the past year or so. I was embarrassed because I gained back 30 pounds of the original weight I lost. And let me tell you something...it was easy.<br />
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The other day my nifty little TimeHop app showed me a status of mine from three years ago.<br />
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"I added a little jog to my walk tonight. And by a "little jog", I mean one block. I like to remind myself that little is more than nothing. So if it's more than nothing, it must be something. And something is always better than nothing."<br />
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Three years ago, I couldn't jog a block. I still remember going down to the track and putting everything I had into jogging a whole mile without stopping, months after I had started working out. What a victory that was. I took a picture of myself after that moment.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy_hnsoMfwFI-30DqP_458wZkeG5k3Nepcr_pSwaJbyDKcIDXsLy3E4qbox6_cWzIscLJnvpKLBrv8YhcW82EyXQl9x09N4Rcz7TmJGh071jL9ytMvnpZL54Zym3iyXXyebgia2SZX0Gsj/s1600/1mile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy_hnsoMfwFI-30DqP_458wZkeG5k3Nepcr_pSwaJbyDKcIDXsLy3E4qbox6_cWzIscLJnvpKLBrv8YhcW82EyXQl9x09N4Rcz7TmJGh071jL9ytMvnpZL54Zym3iyXXyebgia2SZX0Gsj/s1600/1mile.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 14th, 2012 - My first mile.</td></tr>
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I felt beautiful when I took this picture. It's hard to feel that way looking at it now. But I distinctly remember how ecstatic I was. I felt more beautiful, more accomplished in this moment than I did after I finished my half marathon this past summer (although that was pretty cool too ;) )<br />
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The other day I jogged a mile. It had me winded, but even with the addition of 30 pounds, I could do it without thinking about it all too much. I didn't feel accomplished when it was over. I didn't feel beautiful. I felt like a fat blob, a loser...ugly. Less than a year ago, I jogged 13.1 miles. How did I get to this point? As I stood there, examining myself in the mirror, I cried.<br />
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<i>I am ugly. I am fat. </i>Those are words that I've never used to describe myself before, even at my heaviest. So it quickly became less about what happened to my body, and more about what happened to my being in these several months that I would consider some of the happiest of my life. <br />
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Anyone that works with me knows a lot about how my mind functions on a day-to-day basis. I am assertive, aggressive in my work, inquisitive, fast-acting, but deep thinking. I also tend to live in a constant state of panic, worried about completing all my work effectively, pleasing others, and not failing. A lot of these attributes carry over into my personal life. I've programmed myself as an employee and also as a person to be like this (I'm my father's child).<br />
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Somehow, I lost sight of what was important on my road to health. A half-marathon wasn't enough, and the remaining 30 pounds I had to lose seemed just completely unreachable. How could I switch careers, make a movie, start a relationship, travel, focus on my hobbies, and lose that last bit of weight? Instead of stepping back and looking at the big picture, I let my anxiety and fear get the best of me. And instead of finding balance, I sacrificed in every part of my life by losing control of the one thing I can have control of, my self-worth and image of myself.<br />
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When I stopped feeling beautiful and accomplished, I stopped pushing myself to be better. Eric was there reminding me how pretty I was and encouraging me to move towards my goals, but when you don't feel beautiful, you won't accept people telling you that or treating you like you are. It's a really sad truth that I think a lot of people (men and women alike) face at some point in their lives.<br />
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I think the times in my life that I've felt most beautiful are the moments when I knew that I was using everything God gave me to be the best version of me possible. Because striving to be better is not only a gift to myself, but an obligation I have to family, friends, and people who love me. This goes beyond weight, my new shoes, or the amount of make-up I'm wearing for the day. Beauty is a lot deeper than that, and the most beautiful people in my life are the ones who are living each day to the fullest, taking care of themselves, and striving to be good to people. Maybe those things shine through in the glow of their skin or something, but I'm not imagining that.<br />
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I've been struggling a lot with body image lessons lately. There are a couple shows on TLC right now focused on being "fat". One is about a woman who is 250 pounds overweight. She just wants to lose a little weight, but is happy how she is. The other is about a "healthy" woman who gains 40 pounds to prove she can lose it in three months. I turned the channel after she goes for a jog with the extra 40 pounds. She is nearly in tears. "It's so hard being fat." She weighed 40 pounds less than I do in this picture below.<br />
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Both shows rub me the wrong way. I'm not a fan of complacency if there are parts of your life that you want to change, and I'm also not okay with "fat-shaming". If you haven't run around the track at 300 pounds, you probably have no idea what you're talking about regarding the issue. But if you're 380 pounds, and you've been overweight your whole life, you probably don't know how different and wonderful it feels to stop carrying some of that extra weight, and what it means to be healthy. Why aren't we focusing on all the glorious and wonderful ways that God made us different and unique?Each comes with unique challenges and gifts. Why is beauty not more about how we use what we've been given to be better quality people...in all aspects? I know for me, that's when I feel most beautiful. I haven't been using everything I have lately. I want to be better for me, for my family, for my friends, for my best friend and boyfriend. That's how this improved me started anyway (except for the boyfriend...I added him later. :) </div>
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When I looked in the mirror the other day and felt ugly, it was less about that trouble spot or that new wrinkle. It was more about knowing I could be better, stronger, healthier. Giving up has never made me feel beautiful. I'm well on my way to balance now, which is what I've been searching for this whole time. I have great allies, and I can't wait to see what's in store for my new-found dedication. I made all of our lunches for the week last night, I conquered my DQ Blizzard craving tonight, and I got a 30-minute workout in. Tonight, I feel beautiful.</div>
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Here are other moments where I've felt beautiful, at all different sizes. My perception of these photos have changed over time, but I remember how great I felt in those moments.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfWYHFSB9US_nQEg1nXQZZtNhbLlUVayvZrRu5PPI7diBNc-Spr2IR2XBbUON1hS90ciXTl50hLihruruflCTwjnnS5W0ggElS8TJg0BEq2dCpYWJlQfUZCFrlCTeKb_I-nml9OSP5D_u/s1600/11370_10100329379568122_8141772048457507041_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfWYHFSB9US_nQEg1nXQZZtNhbLlUVayvZrRu5PPI7diBNc-Spr2IR2XBbUON1hS90ciXTl50hLihruruflCTwjnnS5W0ggElS8TJg0BEq2dCpYWJlQfUZCFrlCTeKb_I-nml9OSP5D_u/s1600/11370_10100329379568122_8141772048457507041_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaxzOXPkSBWAux3-ZJ9rdHb6XavzYxiF4iYRbsKxcZ3zoFk5xBcJ6tXfHX8f_DriqDRToLc9WSAV0c6ExnMElXXdAFgg54H6OreX79fY7V2QZzehYUgj9mZL6cZT07YtLjHfqp5EjFJW-X/s1600/282174_681283226412_7386832_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaxzOXPkSBWAux3-ZJ9rdHb6XavzYxiF4iYRbsKxcZ3zoFk5xBcJ6tXfHX8f_DriqDRToLc9WSAV0c6ExnMElXXdAFgg54H6OreX79fY7V2QZzehYUgj9mZL6cZT07YtLjHfqp5EjFJW-X/s1600/282174_681283226412_7386832_n.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blast from the past. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0W-t6s8WkgDTfEnfc4V-aN6M8LP031i05KuRQ20Jh3UjQ18D5vMAUVXBwZ_ijOW3gkptNykqLPICYY4OTmhLyn9Gshh4GxT7RAhVNoZ6LIhlSeBpLYqtitEX7Uwptl_OWSgiPEY6nnCh/s1600/329118_833317842822_984331816_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0W-t6s8WkgDTfEnfc4V-aN6M8LP031i05KuRQ20Jh3UjQ18D5vMAUVXBwZ_ijOW3gkptNykqLPICYY4OTmhLyn9Gshh4GxT7RAhVNoZ6LIhlSeBpLYqtitEX7Uwptl_OWSgiPEY6nnCh/s1600/329118_833317842822_984331816_o.jpg" height="289" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At our premiere.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3R4IR1CzCgZC44vQQJAUati7tn_CBBoqLKr5DuQmHsmxFdirTzlH8BCL2eR0UeQZcCIvCue2-RzHmyh5piCKMCLKJJhSmi-wxPRpPzTjb4RjJGIXwNku71OH3wqfa_90OU9oGNZBXvur/s1600/894660_858737217192_2099553146_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3R4IR1CzCgZC44vQQJAUati7tn_CBBoqLKr5DuQmHsmxFdirTzlH8BCL2eR0UeQZcCIvCue2-RzHmyh5piCKMCLKJJhSmi-wxPRpPzTjb4RjJGIXwNku71OH3wqfa_90OU9oGNZBXvur/s1600/894660_858737217192_2099553146_o.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post - Run picture.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQZeaXm8iysb2Mdtc1lZ0oyddQQGyXaG3Ka7zRmZE6K4lOHqw-gRymp_GKGrWFWVDxrc_itGE0peWqc8SrsJDq97MUSnPYT2w5Gh8iY8PhqEagd2XFwj6ZfSeJJDeYnS-Kl3trQWHYXB3/s1600/903746_879412179402_757770823_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQZeaXm8iysb2Mdtc1lZ0oyddQQGyXaG3Ka7zRmZE6K4lOHqw-gRymp_GKGrWFWVDxrc_itGE0peWqc8SrsJDq97MUSnPYT2w5Gh8iY8PhqEagd2XFwj6ZfSeJJDeYnS-Kl3trQWHYXB3/s1600/903746_879412179402_757770823_o.jpg" height="320" width="121" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Year's Eve a couple years ago.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVKKp5203zlQMvOJ1wOGE8FrgihgaZqPnzHnFpnlaMdNEwbmkCaZbiprrmZWa8NypVZkFnKeQT-2xKrphDx6E2GUobd5gkgu6ZNKlxnPFz5dr_qF8baXTT6Yz8s-kFmutkR0b6j7BoeBte/s1600/1009344_950430558002_1301776249_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVKKp5203zlQMvOJ1wOGE8FrgihgaZqPnzHnFpnlaMdNEwbmkCaZbiprrmZWa8NypVZkFnKeQT-2xKrphDx6E2GUobd5gkgu6ZNKlxnPFz5dr_qF8baXTT6Yz8s-kFmutkR0b6j7BoeBte/s1600/1009344_950430558002_1301776249_o.jpg" height="320" width="272" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hardcore workouts.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A run with my sister.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8prfSae6_B1f25OXBASKqd6H4U5jBbkoWieMnZuDAFvwbMNIf7asSnt6fi9TuoFFsFUfWmb4SRR_DJPJK7T5zYXGghH0bmIzRefwKPi8qqxsERCdd_czFiVnK1C30Iua7A3QP60DMz7Fm/s1600/1902934_10100210841524312_1712910674494793232_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8prfSae6_B1f25OXBASKqd6H4U5jBbkoWieMnZuDAFvwbMNIf7asSnt6fi9TuoFFsFUfWmb4SRR_DJPJK7T5zYXGghH0bmIzRefwKPi8qqxsERCdd_czFiVnK1C30Iua7A3QP60DMz7Fm/s1600/1902934_10100210841524312_1712910674494793232_n.jpg" height="320" width="205" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The night after our half-marathon.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2_MH4qjVbBJjD-PDNW1c6B1m_-JpyfpwYzW3l8ngrGf0nz8buyIO7VglOg2QXCEegJu5RykMoBYavQ0pE_X4BlXpzaYhz4z6ZXqwiEDmUByAVgUvG1nE5eEphge6nSzDc8YnOaNFebR9/s1600/tumblr_lydt6eHGjZ1r9f8vwo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2_MH4qjVbBJjD-PDNW1c6B1m_-JpyfpwYzW3l8ngrGf0nz8buyIO7VglOg2QXCEegJu5RykMoBYavQ0pE_X4BlXpzaYhz4z6ZXqwiEDmUByAVgUvG1nE5eEphge6nSzDc8YnOaNFebR9/s1600/tumblr_lydt6eHGjZ1r9f8vwo1_500.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 Weeks into working out 5 days a week.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First time wearing non-plus size dress.</td></tr>
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<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-28218426518775820752015-01-11T21:24:00.001-08:002015-01-11T21:24:29.591-08:00Two Thousand FourteenSo much happened in 2014 that I wasn't expecting. There was a lot of change, a lot of adventure, and a lot of growing up. I conquered my first half marathon, started my next documentary, transitioned into a new job, and fell in love. And even though it wasn't an easy year, it is safe to say that tradition continues and it was the best year of my life so far. <div>
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In April, Eric and I ran a half marathon together. I can only describe the feeling as euphoric. I jogged through the rain and lighting, and cramped up the last quarter of a mile. But as I crossed the finish line, I could see Eric and my dad waiting for me. Eric had already drank a whole carton of chocolate milk and enjoyed his post-race chicken sandwich. I'm not fast, but I made it. I gave my dad a hug and then I cried in Eric's arms. It's a place I'd never thought I'd be, but there I was.</div>
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We started our next documentary, <i>Break the Rock</i>. Production has started slowly, but still we've worked a lot of nights and weekends as we've begun the process all over again. It is exciting and challenging. Finding and developing this story, is perhaps my greatest challenge to date. It is a long road ahead, but it's just the type of adventure and work I need in my life to keep me motivated.</div>
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During the summer, my role at work changed. I had to say goodbye to a really important part of my life, my first real job that had taught me so much about myself. I greatly miss Ann and the students I worked with every day. But it was time I suppose and an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I was scared. I was put in a position that has pushed me over my limits.They were limitations I set for myself. I never thought I'd be the person who could survive or thrive in a job like this. It is constantly changing and evolving and quite honestly, uses all my brain power. Naps. I need more naps in my life because of it, but unfortunately have no time for them. </div>
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Eric joined our office in the summer as well. We work side-by-side (no exaggeration...we share an office), and we work hard to make sure we don't kill each other. So far, so good. I've had to work a lot more closely with my dad in this new position, and while it has presented it's own set of challenges, it has been incredible to watch and learn from him what has made him so successful (a pure devotion to innovation, hard work, and the people who can put it all together...if you're wondering).</div>
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So, 2014 brought on a lot more work, but I somehow managed to squeeze every drop out of every second of this year. I found some time to meet up with old friends and time to develop new relationships with new friends. I witnessed a lot of nuptials, celebrated a lot of love, and explored Kansas City with people I care about most.</div>
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At 12:01 A.M. on January 1st, 2014 I texted my best friend. "It has been a crazy year. I hope this one is even better. Happy New Year!"</div>
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He texted me back at 12:04. There I was, at 26 years old, anxious for a text back from a man that I've called my best friend for the better portion of a decade. He wasn't really a man when I met him though. We were kids, pretty fresh out of high school, trying to figure out just what the heck we were supposed to be doing with our lives.</div>
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We were kids when we met a few days before my first day of college at Northwest. We were kids, sitting in my dad's driveway until early morning,talking about life and love and happiness. We were kids, sitting around filling out myspace surveys and watching youtube videos about how to properly tie a tie. We were kids when we tried to run the campus television station together. We were kids when we started our little production company when we graduated college. Then he bought a house, I got a real job, we made a documentary, I found myself. And all of a sudden we weren't kids anymore. We were adults, taking on life and facing adult challenges like actual human beings as the best of friends. But here I was at midnight on New Year's day, feeling like a kid again. Like, full on Taylor Swift-at-sixteen level of kid. </div>
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I kind of panicked, realizing that I'm in fact, an adult and need to approach life as such. But I panicked more thinking about the all the love I had for him and all the things I all of a sudden wanted to tell him, all the things I NEEDED to say. So, I did what I do best. I word vomited every ounce of my soul into a less-than-eloquent speech that can only be rivaled by such other great oral presenters such as Abraham Lincoln, or Martin Luther King Jr.,..or Kanye. More toward the latter. </div>
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We didn't fall in love at first sight, and our mutual realization that maybe what we've always wanted and needed was each other wasn't something we were going to just run with. A lot was at stake, a decade of friendship that neither of us wanted to sacrifice. But what it started was an incredible year of adventure, getting to know each other all over again. I'll save all the things I've learned about him, and myself, and us for a different blog, but it has been an incredible journey thus far.</div>
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Maybe it hasn't been perfect. I doubt things ever are. But it HAS been my type of perfect and I can honestly say that I absolutely can not wait to see what's in store on this road that I am traveling with my best friend. Somewhere along the lines, we fell in love and that has made this year...pretty much perfect.</div>
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I hope 2015 has plenty of adventures in store for us, my friends and family, and all the people I'll meet in this year to come.</div>
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Cheers!</div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-55686917779843300752014-10-21T06:08:00.000-07:002014-10-21T06:09:03.536-07:00The most important game the Royals will ever play<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was 2003.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">93 games at number one in the American League Central. The
Royals were going places. I’ll never forget that season of believing with Tony
Pena at the helm. It felt like a different ball club. We had a stronger
presence and many folks were hopping on the, “We Believe” bandwagon. I was
loving it.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I grew up around the Royals. Not the Royals’ ball club; Not
the business of Royals, but the team. My dad directed more Royals’ baseball
games than I can remember. I had the fortunate experience of traveling with him
to games both home and across the country. My dad became friends with the
players, coaches, and managers. Those friendships allowed me the opportunity to
meet a lot of really dynamic people and get to know a really incredible team.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think I was around 10 years old when I first met Frank
White. In the dugout, during batting practice my dad introduced me. “Katie…this
is one of the greatest baseball players of all time.” Frank scoffed at that. I
had no idea who he was. I sat in the dugout with them as they talked. I didn’t
consider myself a baseball fan, but I knew it must be pretty cool to be there. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then, I met Scott Pose. Scott Pose, people. I was enthralled.
He talked to me. I had no idea what he said, but he gave me a baseball. I
remember thinking that he was one of the nicest people I had ever met. Scott
Pose wasn’t part of the team much longer, but that was only the beginning of my
experiences with those players and my love for the Royals. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Over the next few years I met a lot of them. I attended a
party with my dad and rubbed shoulders with Royals greats. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I prayed for smiles from Carlos Febles,
respected Raul Ibanez, admired Jermaine Dye, and loved Mike Sweeney and Joe
Randa. My dad (a stickler for rules), would never ask any of them for
autographs for me. So I wrote out a letter to Mike Sweeney, and it wasn’t long
before I had a personalized autographed poster of him. My mom laminated it for
me and it went on the back of my door. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I didn’t fall in love with baseball. I fell in love with
that team and those people. They made me love a losing team. Watching them play
felt personal. It was exciting to me, even through the losses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always had hope that each year could be
better than the last. Before I knew it, baseball, the sport, was important to
me. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then 2003 came. I don’t know that I’ll ever get those images
out of my head…Tony Pena shouting, “We believe! We believe!” </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Winning just felt incredible. We were a family of Royals
fans. My mom and I would cheer them on from home when my dad was traveling. Mom
tried to pretend she didn’t care about anything other than who had the best
butt on the team, but I’d catch her watching plays intently and lashing out in
the excitement of homeruns. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was 2003 when Mom got sick. She got really sick, really
fast and my family spent a month by her bedside in the hospital. Waiting for
mom to pass was really difficult. But the Royals joined us through it. They were
on in every room in that hallway of the hospital. Maybe it was the comfort of
America’s favorite past time, or the hope in the promising season, but either
way, that team was important.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You will hear people argue that Major League Baseball (or
all professional sports) should not hold a place in our society. I’ve had
people tell me that they hate baseball and ask me why I care. The truth is, I
don’t know if I would love baseball if I didn’t fall in love with the Royals
years ago. But I’ve grown to appreciate what place it has held in my life. It
united me with my family. It was something I could talk about with my mom, dad,
and grandpa alike. We would celebrate the successes together and shake our
heads at the losses (all the freakin losses). Grandpa said it best when he
said, “We’ve got an Angel and Jesus on our team and we can’t win a damn game.”
We may not have had anything else to talk about, but we could talk about that.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In July, 2003, less than a month after my mom passed, my dad’s
company had dugout suite tickets to a Royals game. Mike Sweeney was out with an
injury and Joe Randa wasn’t in the lineup but I was still excited to go. In the
middle of the game Paul Splitorff told me I needed to go inside the suite for a
minute. I walked inside and standing by the doorway was Mike Sweeney and Joe
Randa…in the middle of the game. Mike smiled at me sweetly and said, “We know
it’s been a hard month for you. We’ve been thinking of you and your family, and
hope you had a happy birthday.” He gave me an autographed bat and Joe Randa
gave me a Royals hat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was floored. I
couldn’t believe it. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ll never forget their kindness, but this wasn’t something
out of character for them. These were the type of people on this team. They
were the type of people you wanted to root for, and the sort of weird family
that you’d want to be a part of. . <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
haven’t met anyone on this current team, but from what I’ve seen and read, the
players have continued to value kindness and sharing celebrations with the fans
over all else. I hope the organization and business of the Royals follows their
lead and makes strides like this team has.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because here we are in 2014. Game one of the World Series is
tomorrow. I myself, cannot afford to go, but I’m looking forward to cheering
them on with the rest of the city. For me, it’s the kind of thing I dreamed
about happening, but never really thought I’d see. Not in a bad way. To be
honest, I’ve always been happy to root for the people on this team. I just
never knew the fantasy of them actually getting here could be real. I’m not
sure if they knew it was either. This game tomorrow is the most important game
they’ve played in what seems like a million years, not for what it means for
the Royals ball club, but for what it means for all of us. This team should be
proud that they’ve united an entire city. Despite all our differences we are
happy to come together to celebrate the absolutely incredible ride this team
has taken us on this year. That’s how it should be, and I hope it stays that
way. Win or lose, we love this team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
we believe and they believe. I think the odds are in our favor. </span></div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-47410895842525841842014-06-09T20:38:00.001-07:002014-06-09T20:38:15.426-07:00These old shoes
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLYPu92HcsqmroihZdfSKBA423ech4-pj8kZlPcbPnXvfp9RpG06vRM7eWKn04uh-aYPtZsKBb4g8dR8pLyt-1E5XO26KsbJBulcQsM4yT8mF_MTnLkLm-_n1DnnjbUc0odJR2WI6NNFF/s1600/IMG_20140603_110824_533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLYPu92HcsqmroihZdfSKBA423ech4-pj8kZlPcbPnXvfp9RpG06vRM7eWKn04uh-aYPtZsKBb4g8dR8pLyt-1E5XO26KsbJBulcQsM4yT8mF_MTnLkLm-_n1DnnjbUc0odJR2WI6NNFF/s1600/IMG_20140603_110824_533.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you walked a mile in my shoes, you’d probably regret it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve had these shoes for five years now. I must have bought
them when I worked at Target as my back-up tennis shoes. Target or Wal-Mart. I don’t remember what
I paid for them, but it was probably a target clearance catch. If I paid more
than $15 for them, I’d be surprised.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I bought them, they were too small for me. I barely
wore them. Squeezing my size 10.5 foot into a size 9 shoe was a little rough. I
always wore my white New Balance shoes my dad bought me to work in and in
general these gray and blue tennies didn’t really match anything.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So these became my go-to shoes for anything that might
involve me getting dirty. I didn’t want to risk messing up my good shoes so I’d
always throw these on for fishing, muddy walks around the neighborhood, etc.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, looking at these shoes that desperately need to be
tossed, I can’t help but think about all the things these shoes have seen,
endured, and carried me through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My feet began to shrink as I started working out and before I knew it,
this pair of shoes became my favorite. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had some new $150 New Balance kicks, fitted to my feet,
meant for running. But nothing felt as good as my Target clearance shoes. But I
forced myself to lace up my New Balance for my runs. They were expensive and
the shoe experts told me they were ideal.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even so, I still used my Target shoes for everything else,
when I couldn’t risk losing or destroying the most expensive thing I owned.
That means these Target shoes have been with me on every trip I’ve taken the
past few years. They’ve been a lot of places and carried me through my happiest
of times.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About halfway through my half-marathon training this year I
was feeling really defeated. My runs were hard. My knees were killing me. For
some reason I decided that switching my running shoes might rejeuvenate me and
my legs. Much like switching shampoos, I immediately felt better. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I used those cheap shoes to finish my training, and
I<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>used them on race-day against my
better judgement , constant requests from Eric to just go buy new shoes, and
the advice of my running coach. I didn’t think much about it. It just felt
better. I used them this past week when I traveled to Arkansas for a little
mini vacation. They went camping, fishing, walked me through town, and sat by
several camp fires. I left them outside the cabin, dirty and damp.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I looked at them, I couldn’t believe they had carried
me the 13.1 miles on race day or the hundred plus miles of training. They’re
worn out, dingy, and just about ready to fall apart. I’m going to go ahead and
buy some new shoes per the request of a dozen people, but it’s going to be hard
to say goodbye. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think I’ll keep these babies around for just one more
year, in case I need to go fishing, hiking, biking, farming, or ya know ….in
case my new shoes give me knee problems. You never know!</div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-7045175801002558622014-06-05T19:01:00.001-07:002014-06-05T19:01:42.012-07:00The man in the red hat
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGnYNBir5gE2SW-vds-x2cU0spBioI2g0N1HZuHbJv_maIOMOAIR7o6aZ3SN6lOdDGk20nQRWw-PbQEJ1OkrCGXqMBBtBomit6mPDj7UhxpU-8TiLQ8vENay-zo5duruTI-Y4wLeSbo8jL/s1600/P1050727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGnYNBir5gE2SW-vds-x2cU0spBioI2g0N1HZuHbJv_maIOMOAIR7o6aZ3SN6lOdDGk20nQRWw-PbQEJ1OkrCGXqMBBtBomit6mPDj7UhxpU-8TiLQ8vENay-zo5duruTI-Y4wLeSbo8jL/s1600/P1050727.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Scott Bostwick is one of the most influential and inspiring
people in my life. I owe a lot to him, even though I never had the opportunity
to meet him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I often think about how many times we brushed shoulders on
that football field when I was in college. How many times had we exchanged
friendly smiles as we passed each other? I racked my brain trying to remember
if I had ever interviewed him before or asked him some question in passing. It
became clear though over the course of that 2011 season, that if I had…I would
have remembered. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On this day three years ago, I received the news of Coach
Bostwick passing much like a lot of Northwest students and alumni, via social
media. I felt a sudden aching loss for a man that I had never met. That could
well be one of the many reasons Eric and I decided to produce Dream Season that
year. Both of us felt an incredible pull to tell his story and follow the team
and community that loved him so much. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During a time when most of the people who loved him were
trying to come to peace and say goodbye to a son, father, brother, coach,
mentor and friend, Eric and I were just getting to know him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could say that I met Scott during
our first interview with his nephew, Aaron on our first day of filming. It was
clear from the beginning that Scott meant more than words to Aaron and also as
we soon found out, to anyone who ever knew him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Coach B’s “Dream Season” soon became ours as we got to know
his family, team, and his extended family (the whole Bearcat community). There
were so many different stories to tell, but they were all united by a love for
a great man and the tragedy of his sudden passing.I can tell you now that Eric
and I had no idea what we were doing. I think it was a gift from God and Scott
that people who didn’t know us at all, let us into their lives without
question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s cool if we come to your baptism, right Jake?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Josh, we’re coming over. Give us a tour of your apartment.
That’d be great.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“AT, there’s a Bostwick barbecue after the game? It cool if
we join?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Someone asked me today if there was anyone who didn’t want
us to do this story. I don’t think I have ever been asked that before. And my
answer surprised even myself. During an emotional and difficult time, more than
30 people said “Yes” to us when it would have been just a whole hell of a lot
easier to say “No.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eric and I
took that for granted then, but looking back I am just so incredibly grateful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Coach Bostwick’s immediate family allowed us the privilege
of getting to know him and telling his story. Jake’s family let us stay with
them when we made the journey to Iowa. J.Lo’s family hung out in a basement all
day as we interviewed them one-by-one. The Bostwicks? Every brother and sister,
his mom and dad, Aaron and Preston all sat down to be interviewed. They all
poured their hearts out to us about Scott, who he was, what he stood for, and
the type of men he had raised on the football field. They talked to us without
reservation, like we were family. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who was Scott? The Coach I came to know was unwavering in
his love for his family. He practiced an unconditional love for his football
players and friends, the kind of love that can only be achieved with the power
and willingness to forgive and move on. He was honest. He would tell it to you
straight and expected you to do the same. He was funny and ready to deliver his
smile in a moment’s notice. He expected a lot out of people, but wanted to live
up to his own expectations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
dedicated to everything in his life that he loved, including Northwest
football. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyone who knew him, knows those things about him. But
here’s what Scott taught me over that year. He renewed in me my willingness to
forgive. The stories of him forgiving transgressions and allowing people to
move forward with him by their side, really struck me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He reminded me that dedication to things you love isn’t just
nice, it’s necessary. There was one point when we were completely done filming
everything, but were thinking about giving up. Finances and emotional fatigue
wore us to a breaking point. But we sat in our office (my apartment kitchen,
with a computer on my dinner table), and actually discussed out loud what Scott
would do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was his dedication
that drove us to continue.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He taught me that you can’t take anything with you when you
go. But the love in the hearts of all the people he touched, that will remain
forever and in a sense, it’s really what you leave behind that matters most.
How you live your life, matters. How you treat people, matters. That man’s
legacy is eternal and it will be passed down from generation to generation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every time I see a cardinal, I think of Coach. It seems like
I’ve seen a lot of them the past few years, but maybe I’m just noticing them
more now. Either way, it’s always comforting to think about Scott kind of just
watching over everyone. He’s the kind of guy I would have wanted in my corner.
His family, that team, and his extended family will always be family to me and
Eric. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Scott helped a lot of kids grow up and overcome life
obstacles on the football field. It wasn’t any different for Eric and I. We
were just two kids who didn’t know what we were doing. Scott and the people he
loved, gave us a chance to learn and helped us grow up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll always be
grateful to the man in the red hat, the man I never met, who coached us through
some of life’s hardest lessons and gave us the opportunity to succeed.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdBP8gQN5YyRn5MnWRnxqOOfBvg6WxTtEOtilS4d7WxpUKwQNDNX1ajsYI7qzkWtQnsQsL0VZErt5RjGM31Xj-fJi0Y7s4wEiA_W97-O2CQfE8h-743KA2HWiC9Y_95Wm4GoqS9RaxIHLX/s1600/P1050795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdBP8gQN5YyRn5MnWRnxqOOfBvg6WxTtEOtilS4d7WxpUKwQNDNX1ajsYI7qzkWtQnsQsL0VZErt5RjGM31Xj-fJi0Y7s4wEiA_W97-O2CQfE8h-743KA2HWiC9Y_95Wm4GoqS9RaxIHLX/s1600/P1050795.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW19_ls2LDPRmO48uUTvVIx9FkpJFGSM-9rah7ry2WQ5D_5MsKGsX9mfxO9roGxl-ER5KPz0gp2d92lZjjUrr98ARaPAw-ik-Zy0nPWLub9dNBxugE44CPPvng2SPWljYxQrwXlce7FmqR/s1600/P1050809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW19_ls2LDPRmO48uUTvVIx9FkpJFGSM-9rah7ry2WQ5D_5MsKGsX9mfxO9roGxl-ER5KPz0gp2d92lZjjUrr98ARaPAw-ik-Zy0nPWLub9dNBxugE44CPPvng2SPWljYxQrwXlce7FmqR/s1600/P1050809.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-46058976318718285942014-05-20T19:42:00.001-07:002014-05-20T19:42:18.164-07:00Defining Katie<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m less than 40 pounds away from my goal weight. It seems
small in comparison to the over 170 pounds I’ve lost so far, but it also seems
like an eternity away. I decided something several months ago. I’m not going to
spend that “eternity” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>be defined by my
weight loss.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks to social media, weight loss has become quite the
fad. Let me start by saying,, it’s a fad I support. It’s not a new<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>concept. People have been gaining and losing
weight always, but social media has catapulted people into new, healthy
lifestyles who may have once ignored direction from friends and family or
advice from doctors. I’m that person. Social media made it possible for people
to watch others transform their lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It also kept you updated minute-by-minute on everyone’s lives. Photos,
statuses, notes, and wall posts keep you filled in on what everyone is wearing,
where they’re going, what they’re doing, and who they’re doing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Envy used to be a sin reserved for the present, but now you
can look back at people’s lives, watch them in the moment, and also see what’s
coming up for them in the future. It makes you happy to be so connected to
everyone, but it also drives you mad. I’d be lying if I said social media had
nothing to do with my desire and drive to lose weight. I saw people reach their
goals and lead lives I wanted. It didn’t determine my weight loss, but it drove
me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I never wanted to be better than anyone, but I wanted to be
equal and I never felt like my outside really measured up to my inside. I never
really worried about my strength, intelligence, sense of humor, or kindness,
but those things are harder to measure on the World Wide Web. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I kept my weight loss to myself for a long time. The first
100 pounds. But then I realized I could be someone that helped others start the
most important journey of their lives. So I decided to blog and to share. It
was a great decision for me. All the support really drove me to continue on the
right path, and it was the right path.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I did everything the right way. I ate healthy. I exercised.
I indulged in my favorite food sometimes and skipped workouts on occasions. I
saw a lot of success. My weight loss success drove me to succeed in other areas
of life. But this past summer, when I struggled in certain areas of my life,
the weight loss slowed and then it stopped for several months. I became very
depressed about not continuing to lose weight. That’s when I realized…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My weight loss defined me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I managed to bring myself out of that depression with the
help of a couple friends. Eric and I started training for our half-marathon and
I got back to normal, healthy routines. I was running over 20 miles a week at certain
points in that training, but I only lost 15 pounds over those months and most
of it happened in the first four weeks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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But I’m not sad. If I continue to exercise and watch what I
eat, the weight will come off slowly, but surely. I am healthy. I am off my
blood pressure medication. I am capable of running over 13 miles without dying.
I can move your couch by myself and I can breathe walking up and down the stairs with ease. It's a place I never thought I'd be, and now I'm happy to settle into a state of normalcy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you're over 200 pounds overweight, losing the LBs becomes a full-time job. It's a choice between life and death. But there's a lot more to me than how much weight I've lost and although I'm excited to continue to share my journey with everyone, I'm also ready to let the world in on other parts of my life. Because I'm not Katie, the girl who lost weight. Period. I'm Katie, the girl who lost weight and learned to live.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year I started two new documentaries. By the time I'm 30, I'll have three documentaries under my belt. I flew in a plane for the first time in ten years. I traveled near and far with people I love, and made some incredible memories. This year I watched several of my students become incredible leaders. I worked hard. I played hard.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I learned some things about myself....</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm a music snob, even though some days I have quite possibly the worst taste in music. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I prefer being organized.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it."- Audrey Hepburn</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm generally a good cook, but I mostly suck at baking. Ask Eric about my "chocolate chip pancakes" that were supposed to be cookies. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know exactly what I want out of life and have a general plan on how to get there. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am happiest with people I love and care a lot less about what we're doing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I really want to lose these final 40 pounds and get the skin surgery I've been dreaming of (see future blog post). I wanted to let you know that this weight loss journey has provided an incredible portal to finding myself. I feel like some people never get that opportunity. You might see my blog transform to include a lot more about my whole life, because it plays just as big a part in my weight loss as exercise and eating healthy. I'm incredibly thankful for all the support I've had until this point and I can't wait to share as my life continues to change and I continue to transform into the person I've always imagined myself as.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When it's all said and done, I want my weight loss to be success that I had that opened the door to several other opportunities in my life. I'd like to be defined by the love I choose to give and receive and I hope that any person on a weight loss mission remembers how important that really is. You'll have ups and downs, but never let your life be defined by the number on the scale.</div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-84749210759834368472014-04-29T11:39:00.002-07:002014-04-29T11:39:21.858-07:00Dear Mom - I survived a half-marathon
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDH26tWZ1Kg1vhO5nNNuj0DLHfhJHQBUAq6U-xKufGsSZFoAJJTnjo_DH8ZtsCUuDONE7HaKbHfrVreSi_QjAwlbO8hLhnH6BCvDZzv7N1tP3pJT6gCg3wupMx9phG0a9gERgibaPBDkB/s1600/IMG_1134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDH26tWZ1Kg1vhO5nNNuj0DLHfhJHQBUAq6U-xKufGsSZFoAJJTnjo_DH8ZtsCUuDONE7HaKbHfrVreSi_QjAwlbO8hLhnH6BCvDZzv7N1tP3pJT6gCg3wupMx9phG0a9gERgibaPBDkB/s1600/IMG_1134.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Mom,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Remember when you bought me those purple spandex pants to
wear to dance class when I was 13? I was a little skeptical to wear them to
class that night, but you insisted that they were “cute” and all the other
girls in the class would be jealous. They literally pointed and laughed at me
when I walked in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That experience
was really only half as bad as the time you picked out a metallic, shiny,
long-sleeve button up for me to wear to the 8<sup>th</sup> grade winter dance.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mom…you gave really terrible fashion advice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know why that popped into my head the other day as I
was searching for a shirt to wear on race day. I opted for a clearance, gray
dry-fit shirt. I tossed out your loud, and unique fashion advice years ago but
I’ve held onto your advice on thrifty shopping. Thanks for that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A little over two years ago I weighed almost 370 pounds. I’m
glad you never saw me like that, because I’m sure you would have blamed
yourself. Which is strange, because <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i>
kind of blamed you. Even though I was always overweight, I blamed your death
for causing me to completely give up. But here I am, nearly 180 pounds down…and
happy.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I did something this weekend I never thought I’d do. I ran a
half-marathon. I finished it in less than three hours. For a girl who “ran” an
18:30 mile two years ago, that’s pretty good. Of course I was disappointed in
my overall time, but not for long. I thought about what you would have said had
you been there and I know you would have been pissed had I chosen to dwell on
my time instead of the great accomplishment of finishing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKYuw8OHSUJSX_wmy0nJDpBygqEjf6s0t9tSzOsk8JwOEH4qdvzsdXz6mQ46PNEVZ1tH7VUhPac0qN2QeRumZukUK-aKFlCoblubR5roH-xViZky-N_spIjIPTgUJfXfrnxm7JF_tKosf4/s1600/IMG_1138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKYuw8OHSUJSX_wmy0nJDpBygqEjf6s0t9tSzOsk8JwOEH4qdvzsdXz6mQ46PNEVZ1tH7VUhPac0qN2QeRumZukUK-aKFlCoblubR5roH-xViZky-N_spIjIPTgUJfXfrnxm7JF_tKosf4/s1600/IMG_1138.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Eric and I trained several months for this. You never met
Eric, but you would have loved him. He pushed me through some really difficult
runs and difficult parts of life. He’s now stood by me through the two biggest accomplishments
of my life and of course has absolutely no idea just how important he’s been to
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cried in his arms when I
finished the race. He probably didn’t know that either. Knowing he would be
there when it was over, kept me going.</div>
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Dad was there too. He has offered such unbelievable support
for me over these past few years. He was cheering for me along the course and
he was waiting for me at the finish line. I knew he’d be crying too since he
cries at everything just like me. He might be the only other person in my life
who realized the importance of that moment and I’ll forever be grateful that I
got to share it with him.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztjs2-VI2L5oJ_jgJz2XuFIgzCUO0nbzWbRM6OHjmGK93oNz4DCWtzGut59pkchNdPCVzBhiPjtyvQAABvSkXEUiy6HwF_QN83kPxfzmHuDvGQhCffHrOklKCPQ0CZ_r94VmAFin3wq5f/s1600/IMG951139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztjs2-VI2L5oJ_jgJz2XuFIgzCUO0nbzWbRM6OHjmGK93oNz4DCWtzGut59pkchNdPCVzBhiPjtyvQAABvSkXEUiy6HwF_QN83kPxfzmHuDvGQhCffHrOklKCPQ0CZ_r94VmAFin3wq5f/s1600/IMG951139.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I was going to tell you about how it rained cats and dogs
for most of the race and how my leg cramped the last tenth of a mile. But
really I just wanted to tell you that it happened. I crossed the finish
line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eric and I celebrated with
giant beef burgers and beer. Then we went to a really fun wedding that night
and danced all night, even though it hurt to move. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Mom. Life is short. You would know that better than anyone.
I guess some days feel incredibly long, like you might never make it
through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Saturday was one of
those days that I want to bottle up and replay on those difficult days. The
only way that day could have been any better would have been having you there. </div>
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I’m still high off the weekend. I’m high off the
accomplishment, fun, and love that I have in my life. I expected the world to
stop for awhile when I finished that race. But it kept moving like it always does.
Two days later and Eric is already asking me what’s next? What a great gift, to
be blessed with time. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcm3vgTWiYO7L630BoMA-0hyphenhyphenFLigENq4QJZW1rwPdHFnLqSwHl5F03XezhgAMNAUt7vwE_und6IVsa2wsv_Rxfbxzyv-A8fUn8ibHB3ZFg3Bb3HIXNRqy1g7E06sWZE8SsTk2Vrd_9bnLO/s1600/P1080374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcm3vgTWiYO7L630BoMA-0hyphenhyphenFLigENq4QJZW1rwPdHFnLqSwHl5F03XezhgAMNAUt7vwE_und6IVsa2wsv_Rxfbxzyv-A8fUn8ibHB3ZFg3Bb3HIXNRqy1g7E06sWZE8SsTk2Vrd_9bnLO/s1600/P1080374.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdws3AoCTb2xBXtVqxRBxv_p3lb5vEGnkJiEh-HpddvrGSopZ3N6Ppi0XEv8IbWIz3sMemyYZIuhZn0kXwuyxOFaX8J42Gz5ITNjPh0DVAK-7yMMuV7Wh_uHUG2Aj33NRpV-q4YFpRI0su/s1600/P1080357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdws3AoCTb2xBXtVqxRBxv_p3lb5vEGnkJiEh-HpddvrGSopZ3N6Ppi0XEv8IbWIz3sMemyYZIuhZn0kXwuyxOFaX8J42Gz5ITNjPh0DVAK-7yMMuV7Wh_uHUG2Aj33NRpV-q4YFpRI0su/s1600/P1080357.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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We’re moving onto our next goal, but I wanted to just take a
quick minute to let you know I survived and how happy I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still miss you and wish you could be
a part of such a transformative part of my life. That was clear this weekend.
But I have some great people in my life Mom, and while they don’t have the
answer to everything like you seemed to…they DO give better fashion advice. </div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-75635185934920745892014-03-31T13:03:00.001-07:002014-03-31T13:03:48.183-07:00How NOT to train for a half marathonThings not to do while you're training for a half marathon:<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1. Forget to stretch because, <i>stretching is boring. Who needs stretching?!</i></div>
<div>
2. Eat Mexican for lunch before a big run.</div>
<div>
3. Drink alcohol in excess.</div>
<div>
4. Skip your long run for the week because you accidentally skipped some short runs earlier in the week.</div>
<div>
5. Eat your weekly intake of calories after your long run for the week. <i>Chocolate milk, ice cream, or cheeseburgers? I know….all of them!</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
Eric and I have taken an unconventional approach to this whole marathon training business. I'd like to think we take an unconventional approach to producing documentaries as well. Ya know, like the longer, more painful approach. But by golly, we sure have a lot of fun doing it. </div>
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<div>
We ran 11 miles the other day and didn't die. So, maybe this is exactly how you should train for a half marathon. </div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-90682843895979546252014-01-27T16:08:00.002-08:002014-01-27T16:08:32.441-08:00You can be great<!--StartFragment-->
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You’re stopping yourself from being great and here’s why…</div>
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<br /></div>
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When I was eleven years old I had this big dream. I wanted
to live in a mall with all my friends. We’d travel through the halls on
rollerblades and bikes and live off of cookies and pretzels. We’d throw dance
parties and only go to school if we felt like it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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My dreams matured as years passed. I wanted to be high
school royalty. I wanted to make movies. I wanted to wear cute sundresses and
vacation in the Keys. I wanted someone I liked to actually ask me out. I wanted
to go to work happy. I wanted to own my own business. I wanted to be the life
of the party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to spend
days camping and hiking. I wanted to get married and have kids. </div>
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I pictured these things, but I didn’t approach them as goals
or realistic dreams. They were the type of thoughts I had right before I went
to bed at night. They were fantasies, much like my mall dream and never once
did I think, I can actually have these things if I work for them.</div>
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<br /></div>
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When I looked in the mirror at over 350 pounds, I sometimes
thought; This will do. Sometimes I applied a lot of extra effort to how I
looked. I might buy a new outfit and put makeup on. But honestly the best
thought I ever had about myself was…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yeah,
I look okay for being a fat cow.</i> And for some reason (that I’ll never
understand,) I let that be good enough for me. I was so embarrassed of myself
that I mostly stopped caring all together. I stopped brushing my hair for a
year. I didn’t care enough to chase my dreams, because even though I desperately
wanted them, they just seemed so out of reach and completely unreasonable. </div>
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<br /></div>
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So, I’ve been facing this new, weird feeling. I look in the
mirror and I’m pissed. I don’t like the way I look. I don’t like the way
clothes fit. I can’t stand how thin my hair is, and I wish I could completely
get rid of these dark circles under my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I realized feeling these things is better than feeling
nothing at all because while there will probably always be something about
myself I’m not satisfied with, I now know there are some things I can change.
If I want to lose this muffin top, I will do just that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And these days, when I throw on my
favorite outfit or curl my hair just right, I think…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yeah, I look pretty good</i>. Period. End of thought. </div>
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Knowing that I have the ability to change myself for the
better gave me the confidence to pursue my dreams as goals,
whole-heartedly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was stopping
myself from being great because I didn’t believe that I was capable of change,
I didn’t think I was worth change, and I didn’t think life would wait for me to
change. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t think I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was </i>great, so getting there seemed out
of the question. </div>
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I wasn’t scared of failing because I thought starting in the
first place was worthless. But to be great and achieve the great things you
want to in your life, you have to think you’re capable of greatness. My nose
will always be pointy. I will probably always snort when I get really tickled
and I may never climb Everest. But it took me 15 years to realize that all the
things I want out of life don’t have to be pipe dreams. And if I still really
wanted to live in a mall with all my friends, sipping on Orange Julius and
swimming in the fountains, I would actually have the courage to work toward it
no matter how outlandish it may seem. Thankfully, I graduated to dreams of
finishing a half-marathon, taking a fishing trip, fitting into my size 10
cocktail dress and swimming a mile. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Stop thinking you’re not worth all the great things you want
out of life. Instead of sleeping with your dreams, start chasing them.</div>
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<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-14659701715522283712014-01-22T17:08:00.002-08:002014-01-22T17:08:49.257-08:00The greatest running advice ever<!--StartFragment-->
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I’ve received two great pieces of advice in my lifetime. I’ll
save one of them for a later date, but I’ll share one with you tonight.</div>
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Don’t go out like an asshole. </div>
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My sister gave Eric and I that sound advice last year before
our first 10K. I can’t remember who told it to her, but I’m positive she
appreciated the tip as much as I did. She encouraged me to start at a normal,
steady pace. You start too quickly or too hard and before you know it, you’re
huffing and puffing or worse, pulling your caboose over and stopping your race
before you even really get started. </div>
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I’ve applied that logic to my life across the board, but I
must have forgotten it in recent months. I’ve been pushed close to tears almost
every other workout. <i>Why can’t I run more than a half mile without stopping?</i> I
felt like I was starting all over again. W<i>hy do I feel like I’m 350 pounds?</i>
<i>We’re planning on a half marathon and I can’t even run a mile?</i> Things weren’t
looking good. </div>
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Then by some miracle, that advice popped in my head today
and I was actually excited to get out and run in the 32 degree weather. That’s
right. I said excited. The last time I was excited about running was months and
months ago. So, I made it home after work and started my run. I took off at a
pace closer to 12:30, as opposed to my 11:30 pace I’ve been trying to
maintain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had an 11:30 pace six
months ago when I was running every day. I need to ease back into this. </div>
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So whatda ya know? I jogged those three miles without
stopping and it only felt terrible for about a half mile of it. That’s progress
my friends and for the first time since the start of phase two of this journey,
I thought, <i>I can really do this.</i> Not only can I do this, but <i>we</i> can do this.
Because if I can do this, so can Eric. </div>
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Time to apply this logic to swimming.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-61256791128336903872014-01-13T17:56:00.001-08:002014-01-13T17:56:28.447-08:00Good morning, Moon<!--StartFragment-->
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You know how you know someone wakes up before the butt crack
of dawn to work out?</div>
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<br /></div>
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They tell you. </div>
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I’m telling you now that I’ve been waking up before 5 in the
morning to get to my workouts in. I have to tell you this because I’m using
this blog to keep me awake for at least another hour. At what age is it
socially acceptable to go to sleep at 7 P.M.? </div>
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The workouts have been good, but I can’t say they’ve been
brutal. I want us to push a little harder, hurt a little more, and feel just a
little bit better. That being said, I’m pretty amped about our commitment and
know that these wee hour workouts will ultimately pay off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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What have I learned about myself and life before 6 A.M.?</div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Yogurt and granola bars are not a substitute for
a delicious and filling egg breakfast.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>The body will actually function before daybreak.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>It’s possible to shower, dry your hair, and get
your makeup on in less than 15 minutes.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>You need flip-flops in winter.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Driving at 5:30 in the morning is nearly
enjoyable.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>My cat thinks waking up before 5 is unnatural.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>You can run laps inside!</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>My knee hurts less in the morning</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Eric has managed to make it to every early morning workout,
which has to be an act of God. I’m not sure how I’d be handling this alone, so
I’m very grateful.</div>
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It’s five minutes until 8 P.M.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sleep is now acceptable…right?</div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-86416116177805160532014-01-09T13:14:00.002-08:002014-01-09T13:14:46.215-08:00Gym rat<!--StartFragment-->
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I’m out of shape. I fell out of the exercise habit and I
paid the price for it both physically and mentally. The good news is, I’m well
on my way again and I’m feeling consistently happy and hopeful for the first
time in months.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a lot of gab about people deciding to start weight
loss and lifestyle changes at the first of the year. Social media makes it
pretty easy for people to share their opinions…on everything. I saw several
posts about people excited to work toward a new and better person. For some of
them, this will be their first legitimate effort at changing their habits. For
others, this may be the 2<sup>nd</sup> or the 15<sup>th</sup> time they’ve
tried. </div>
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Alongside those hopeful and excited posts about new starts
were other posts saying that people trying to lose weight or get fit this time
of year were just “joining the new year’s resolution bandwagon.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They implied that their gym
membership was a waste and an annoyance since they’d become unmotivated
eventually. It’s a shame really, because it’s never the wrong time to make a
good effort.</div>
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Eric and I joined a community center just a couple days ago.
It has workout equipment, an indoor track, basketball courts, and a swimming
pool. We have to prepare for a half marathon at the end of April and a triathlon
later in the year. So even if Eric drowns and I face plant off my bike again,
at least we know we gave it all we had. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At this point in my journey I was more than ready to commit
to a gym and the perks it has to offer. -30 degrees? I can run inside and not
on the dreadmill. A year-round swimming pool will help my muscles and provide
me a little variety. And I know enough about weight-training to be spending
some consistent time focusing on various muscle groups. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn’t always feel “ready” for a gym membership though,
and I’m sad for anyone who is starting the new year out feeling discouraged.
I’m disappointed that so many people have reacted so negatively to people
wanting to change their lives for the better. Eventual success or failure
should have nothing to do with it, because recognizing you need the change and
wanting it are the first steps. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
These negative people are the ones who have spent years and
years in the gym. They’re consistently making progress, staying healthy, and
meeting new goals. Do you know what I have for these people? Respect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve only been working out regularly
for a couple years and Lord knows that I’ve wanted to just throw in the towel
on it a dozen times. </div>
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Unfortunately, I have no respect for someone who thinks
another person’s goals are too lofty or efforts in vain. Everyone has to start
somewhere and if it’s in “your” gym, during “your” time, I hope you welcome
them with open arms. The Royals may not have succeeded with this motto, but we
can; This is “our time”. Now is the time to make a change.</div>
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My gym experience so far? I’m feeling really good and really
positive. Eric is a great motivator. He’s in better shape than I am which
really pushes me to try harder. He stays positive, but also treats me like all
my little successes so far are expectations not miraculous victories. I want to
reward myself for everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I did week two of that Couch to 5K workout
without stopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Woo!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Eric’s thoughts? “We should have
started with week three.” That’s the truth, and I’m realizing that where I’m at
in this journey should be accompanied with a lot higher expectations. </div>
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That being said, I still feel a bit discouraged. A lady at
the gym the other day told me I should start by walking on the treadmill a
little every day. She told me to, “Just take it one day at a time.” I’ve come
to the sad realization that even after two years of working out and losing 170
pounds, I’m still the “fat girl” at the gym. People are quick to offer
unsolicited advice. It’s frustrating and a little bit hurtful, but it also
makes me want to push that much harder. I’m just not much for settling into
negativity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Getting healthy and
feeling good about myself are priority, and these little things shouldn’t stop
me from getting there.</div>
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I hope that everyone finds a way to strive for the 2014
version of themselves they so desperately want to meet. I hope that through
discouragement and failures they find a way to pull themselves back up and keep
pushing. . I hope these things for myself as well and I know having a good
partner to help a long the way will be of great benefit. Attitude is a choice,
regardless of the direction others around you may be pushing. Stay positive. Stay
strong. Here we come.</div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644985777041497908.post-8985560891575806812014-01-04T21:40:00.002-08:002014-01-04T21:40:43.892-08:00Twenty-Fourteen<!--StartFragment-->
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It’s January 5<sup>th</sup> so I guess it’s time to post
about the new year. Don’t ask me what happened in my life over the past year. I
have absolutely no idea how I got from January 1<sup>st</sup>, 2013 to today. Seriously.</div>
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I do know that the past year was full of stories and if I
have anything to say about this year in front of me (which I do), this year
will overflow with stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If God
and life have anything to say about my coming year (which they do), I know
those stories will range from tragic and painful to inspirational and
outrageously fun. I hope no matter what, that my stories are filled with the
kind of love and laughter I’ve become quite attached to over the past couple
years.</div>
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Resolutions this year? I don’t want to box myself into a very
specific set of goals that will determine how I feel about myself after these
365 days pass. I won’t be doing that. However, I whole-heartedly support the
idea of resolutions and taking some time to reflect on where you’ve been and
where you want to go. With that in mind…</div>
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I resolve to:</div>
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Have more victories.</div>
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I remembered a victory I had over a year ago. Eric visited
me at work. When he left, he gave me a goodbye hug. As he pulled away he
excitedly told me, “I can fit my arms around you!” and hugged me again. I had
lost about 70 pounds at that point and it was an exciting victory in the middle
of my journey to a healthier and better me. There will be more victories in
2014.</div>
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Work hard.</div>
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I was rewarded this year for my hard work…with more work. I
don’t want that to end since I’m on my way to having a career I thought I could
only dream about. </div>
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Play harder.</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve seen life
and death already in 2014. Beautiful babies born and hard goodbyes said. It’s
true what “they” say. Life is short. I don’t know what I was doing the first 24
years of my life, but I wasn’t embracing that ideal. Life has gotten a lot
sweeter since I realized that enjoying this crazy ride is part of what makes
this life not only bearable, but enjoyable. </div>
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Love unconditionally.</div>
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For those that I love, no stipulations or obligations. I
love you plain and simple. </div>
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Give freely.</div>
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I don’t have a lot to offer materially, but I think I have a
lot to share and should give more freely. </div>
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Cue that hallmark music? Come on folks, we’re all trying to
create better versions of ourselves. Cut me some slack. Let me post this cheesy
New Year’s post and let us move on with our lives. I’m excited to see what my
friends and family do with this year. It is going to be a year of opportunity.
Don’t pass any one of them up.</div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03422223674485862892noreply@blogger.com2