Chad

People have always commented on how honest my blog is. I've admitted to embarrassing things on this page. I've shared some real emotions and admitted to numbers and stories that I'm not proud of. So, why stop now?

I hit my first true emotional and physical rut over the course of this past month. I've gained back nearly 10 pounds of the weight I've lost. 

Gained. 

Wow. I never thought I'd have to use that word referencing my weight, ever again. The thought of it really saddens me. I've hid the whole struggle (as best I can), from my family and friends. This process has become such an important part of my life, that I'm actually losing sleep over it. I can't sleep, but I can certainly eat and I've watched myself do things I promised I'd never do again. I've let other people and sadness dictate what I do with my body. I let the instant gratification of delicious food and laziness win this past month. I'm sick of it, plain and simple.

How do I stop it? As humans we are so incredibly stubborn. Sometimes we can't even convince ourselves to do the things we desperately need to do.  We self-sabatage. It's unfortunate, but sometimes it takes tragedy to remind us how valuable our own life is. 

Last week, Chad Rogers went for a run and never came home to his wife and baby. I was hundreds of miles away at the time, but I felt deeply connected to the story. Maybe it was the fact that he was from my town, or perhaps because he was close to people I know. But I think the truth is, I felt connected to him because he was a runner. I almost came home a day early to help search for him.

I couldn't help thinking about the whole situation, how connected we all are no matter how different the lives are that we lead. His scent was last picked up close to my apartment building, in a place that I, myself have run. Our feet have hit the same pavement, we've passed the same old fuel shop, and probably waved to the same old lady that gardens in the early-morning heat. 

We probably thought about different things on our runs. We probably ran for different reasons. He was a marathon runner and he could probably run my route in half the time it takes me. He was the type of runner that if I passed him, I'd probably change my route to avoid the embarrassment of him seeing me run like a turtle. I don't know much about him, but I know we were different. But I also know that for one reason or another, we would both run.

Did I ever pass him? I've seen so many people on my runs, I could never remember all the faces. I was supposed to run the night he disappeared, but I ultimately decided against it. My mind raced around this thought after he first went missing.

I didn't come home early from my trip, but my roommate and I had already planned to head out and search when I got home. I received word on my drive home that Chad's body had been found.  It was found in a portable restroom at the school by my old apartment, where I spent the first year of my journey training. I ran my first real mile on that track, lost my first 100 pounds. I experienced a lot of sadness over that news, a lot of sadness for a man I never met. I immediately thought of his family, and I watched as they thanked the community in a news conference that afternoon.

It was a tragic end to a story that deeply impacted so many people in my town. And although the town mourned and thought of the family, I imagine they were also thinking the same thing I thought...That could have been me. That could have been anyone. It could have been a friend or a family member, someone I loved. 

When the news first broke of his disappearance, he was referred to as a Liberty runner. I realized that only a day later, that I was referencing him just as "Chad". Chad was a Liberty resident who happened to value one of the same things I do. Running meant something to him. I'll probably never know exactly what, but I know enough to know that it was important to him. 

So what does this all mean? Why has Chad's story become a part of mine? 

We're all human. We're all stubborn in our own ways. We're all valuable. We forget to take care of ourselves. You forget when you're busy living, how painfully short life is.  We stay in dead-end jobs, waste time on hopeless relationships, say things we shouldn't say, and forget to say the things we should. We pass up opportunities for greatness to avoid discomfort. We stop fighting our demons out of laziness. In my case, I just made excuses for overeating and stopped running when it got difficult.

I can't win every battle, but I'm worth fighting for. If I may leave this life that early, I can't keep wasting time. Chad's life was cut far too short, but it was valuable. It was valuable to his family and the people who loved him. It was valuable to me. My prayers are with his family and friends as they struggle to find peace. 

I've got another day to live still, and I'm blessed to have another day to run. 

More about Chad's story here...

Let's be honest

I had two weeks where I barely worked out and ate my fair-share of "bad" food. I even gained some weight back. I can't tell you how hard that is on me when I work so hard to not only lose weight, but maintain my weight loss. I'm human though and I think the biggest demon I'll ever face is my love of food. 

I caught myself thinking about food a lot, planning what my next splurge would be, dreaming about it really. Chicken fingers? Cheeseburger? Dairy Queen Blizzard? The thing is, if I could just have one of those and be happy, then their wouldn't be a problem. There is absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying those foods from time to time. But I had one and then I NEEDED the others. Is one thing after the next.  I regressed into "Old Katie" mode and where I wasn't being satisfied in other parts of my life, I turned to food to comfort me.

That's just not me anymore and instead of lingering in this general state, I'm running away from it. Literally.

I officially started my marathon training on Monday. I just can't eat poorly like that and still have the energy, stamina, and general well feelings to run distances of any kind. And by distance, I mean a mile. *wink*. I created my own marathon training plan after consulting several different kinds. My friend and I are both following my self-made plan, and I'm hoping we'll see good results from it. And by results, I mean live to tell about it.

I really like the idea of incorporating trail-running and hills and speed work into the training plan. Lately, I've been all about working different muscle groups and focusing on strengthening the parts of my legs that need it most in order to avoid further knee injury.  I also like the idea of doing my long runs on a week day. I'd rather be completely wiped out on a week day then over the weekend. I'm also not committing to a specific number of miles on every long run. I'm well aware that every run is different from the last, and a day that I set out to run four, I might very well be able to do five and vice versa.

I'm excited. I'm nervous, but excited. 

I've also been doing Title Boxing for about a week now. That is by far the most difficult workout I've done to date and I'm loving the challenge. I won't be able to afford a membership, but I'm going to enjoy my last week I have with my Groupon!

After a 6 A.M. boxing class!

Made the mistake of doing a power hour boxing and then running three miles. I do NOT recommend that. I won't be doing it again.

Run With It

I turned 26 this week.
It snuck up on me. I guess I was too busy living to realize that the new number attached to my name officially puts me closer to 30 than 20. But unlike when 25 was looming, I'm not afraid. I'm excited. A year ago I posted a blog titled, "Best Year Ever." I talked about losing 100 pounds, producing a documentary, and starting the journey to find myself.

There are no words I could write here that would do this past year justice. Over this past year I made some mistakes, grew distant with some friends, felt like I was losing my mind at times, and cried over lost loves and days where I felt like I'd just never get what I want. I'm still poor. I'm still a bit lonely. But I'd be lying if I said this wasn't the "Best Year Ever"...because it was. If 24 ain't got nothing on 25, I can only imagine what that means for the coming year.

It's amazing how people can impact your life if you let them in. It's even more amazing how different your human experience can be if you shift your attitude. Here are 26 things I did or learned this year, in no particular order.

1. Completed post production on "Dream Season" and premiered it with my best friend.

2. Learned how to make delicious stir-fry.

3. Made amazing new friends and reconnected with old ones.

4. Went mountain biking! (And busted my face)

5. Brought my weight loss total to over 180 pounds. 

6. Smoked a cigar.

7. Ran a mile in 9 minutes.

8. Learned that people DO treat you differently based on how you look, but more importantly...YOU treat yourself differently.

9. Squatted 185 pounds.

10. Tried ethiopian food.

11. Ran a 10K with my best friend in the best small-town in Missouri.

12. Snuggled my nephew and welcomed a new niece into the family.

13. Watched my not-so-baby niece graduate from high-school.

14. Went fishing with my brother.

15. Cried hysterically while watching Garth Brooks perform "The Dance" live.

16. Took a nap in a hammock after floating on the lake with my sister, sipping on frozen drinks.

17. Jumped off the back of a boat.

18. Ran a race and got a medal.

19. Bought size 12 pants.

20. Learned that most people are doing the best they can.

21. Took a boxing class...and rocked it!

22. Learned the Merengue.

23. Watched one of my dearest friends get proposed to.

24. Discovered that I love wine.

25. Had the best day ever.

26. Moved in with one of the best friends a gal could have.

I have had a ton of people reach out to me this year, some friends and some strangers. On my "Best Year Ever" post from last year, my sister Rikki commented, "I'm thrilled you are starting to embrace your strength and run with it." I read that today and was somewhat amused. I literally chose to run this year in an attempt to better myself. I've run in all sorts of neighborhoods, on tracks, on trails, through water and mud, uphill, downhill, in all different parts of Missouri, Kansas, and Oklahoma. My running career is pretty much a parallel to my life at this point. I've faced some hard runs. I've been injured and healed repeatedly. I've gotten lost and been found. I've fallen down and got back up. I know that as I continue running, I'll face more and more of these obstacles. I know the same can be said about life. 

But I also know that with the people I love by my side, the will and the courage, it is very possible that 26 could be the best year ever. I've had a lot of fun, but I'm not finished.

HALF MY SIZE - After 10 years without Mom

My sister Rikki, Mom, and me.

It was a sunny day in the spring of 2003. I asked my mom to pick me up after school so I could see if I had been selected for any of the broadcasting leadership positions. My teacher posted them on the classroom door at the end of the school day. I don't remember looking at the list, but I do remember crying when I got into my mom's blue Dodge Neon. The news must not have been what I wanted. My mom was quick to console me, "I'm just proud of you for going for it. You're just a sophomore!" 

I snapped at her. I didn't want her telling me how great I was, when I obviously wasn't.

"Well I guess you're not as mature as I thought. I'll just keep this I guess." She kept one hand on the wheel, but held up a box with a beautiful ring in the other. Of course, I quickly apologized and looked at the ring. "You'll get it next year Kate and you won't have to worry about all the nerves. You know how talented you are. Just keep doing what you're doing, sweetheart."

It was less than a month later that I was standing outside a hospital room, waiting for my "turn", my turn for them to tell me, Mom was sick and this time...she wasn't going to make it. I knew it before I walked in the room, but I'll never forget hearing those words. I stood at the end of the bed, lifeless. She reached for me and I joined her at the side of the bed. 

It's weird, the things you think of, when you hear that news. For some reason I kept thinking about all her lasts. She'd never sleep in her bed again. What would be the last Royals game she would watch? Was the day before she went into the hospital be the last time she'd see her cats? Would this be the last thing she would wear?

My mom reached my hand to my heart. 

"I'll always be here," she said. "I'll always be in your heart." We cried together...for the last time.

That night we all spent the night at my brother's apartment. It was close to the hospital. I slept on the floor. I felt sick, afraid to close my eyes, worried that I'd wake up and she'd be gone. But there we were, at the start of a long month of painful goodbyes. We were all together for once though, waiting...waiting for Mom to die. 

That next morning I sat with my mother at the hospital. A preview for a new episode of "Whose Line is it Anyway?" came on. 

"We should watch that together," I told her. She smiled at me, without a hint of sadness she replied,

"If I'm here, sweetheart."

If I'm here.

I've replayed her voice saying that a million times. If I'm here? She said it so matter-of-factly. She came to terms with dying. The fact of life was that she just might not be here. I was heartbroken. I couldn't process how life could continue without her. It was possible, even probable that they would play that episode, even if my mother wasn't around to see it. How can life just move forward like that without her?

I sat next to my mother's bed a couple weeks later and turned on that TV show. She could no longer stay awake long enough to watch anything or process what was going on, but I turned it on anyway. I held her hand and tried laughing, but couldn't help but fall asleep. It was the first time I slept in weeks. When I woke up, she was still there, but not many days after that- she wasn't.

It was a sunny day in the summer of 2003 when she left us. I was 15 years old and my younger sister was only nine. It was one of the worst months of my life, but it started what could be described as one of the greatest love stories ever told. We were a disjointed and distant family. My mom passing brought us together. My siblings are my dearest (and wisest) friends to this day. My dad, is my hero. It's in our darkest moments we learn what we're made of. I honestly believe that.

Fast forward to 18 months ago. Losing Mom was hard on all of us. I spent a lot of the years she was gone feeling miserable. I lost my drive. I lost my will. I lost me. But 18 months ago, I started the journey to find myself in this whole jumbled up mess. I started thinking about what she had said to me so cavalierly, "If I'm here."

If I'm here.

I know that sometimes we leave this Earth before we think we're ready, and most certainly before everyone else is ready for us be gone. 

Well, if I'm here, I'm going to live. I mean, really live. We honest-to-God have no idea when and where our end will be here. That's what started this whole thing for me, and that's where I am today. If I'm here, I'm going to fight. I'm going to live outside my comfort zone, hold the people I love, work hard, play hard, learn things, post pictures of my cat on facebook and drink wine. If I'm here, you'll know I'm here. And when I'm on my deathbed, watching a preview for a show I might not make it to see, I'll just tell you I'll watch it, "If I'm here." Because if I'm not, I'll know that I tried the best I could to be the best person possible for not just myself, but my family and my friends...while I was here.

Today, I am half the size I was when I started this process. I'm down to 184 pounds from 368. So far, I've gone from a size 32 to a 12 in pants and a size 4X shirt to a Medium. More importantly, I've started living. 

10 years without Mom. It's been hard. Every day she drives me. Her memory has been a powerful force in my movement to better myself. I wish she was here with me right now to celebrate how far I've come. I wish she was here to tell me to just, "Keep doing what you're doing, sweetheart." I'm forced to settle for a memory. I'll forever be grateful. I'll always miss her. This milestone for me, is most definitely...for her.

This used to be a shirt. Now, it's a dress!

I could fit two of me! 

All the weight I've lost in the past 18 months.

Miles for Mom

Tuesday will be 10 years since my mother passed. I have plans that day to remember her, but I know with work and everything going on that day, I won't get in a big run. The memory of my mom has played such a huge role in my journey the past 18 months. I decided to spend today adding some miles to my shoes in memory of her.

Got in my first five miles around 8:30 this morning. I jogged the first 4.5 and gave my knees a rest for the last half. I can still do it! I haven't jogged more than two miles at a time since my 10K. I've been working intervals so I can build up my endurance.

I added another 1.5 to the shoes when I joined my aunt and uncle for a walk before lunch. I hadn't seen them in awhile and I was able to hear about their anniversary cruise this past week!

I headed over to my brother's after lunch. We walked three miles while my nephew rode his scooter.  Chase told me about summer school and showed off his mad scooter-riding skills. My brother got to tell him the story of me crashing on a sled when I was five years old. Not one of my mother's finer moments, but always a fun story to share. :)

I had already completed 10 miles for the day but I decided to get a 2-mile jog in at sunset.

A final three miles with my Dad, and that's a wrap. :)

Hungry

Today is one of those days.

I just have a whole bunch of crud I have to take care of today. Cleaning, laundry, and work on beautiful summer days sometimes makes me grumpy. Most days I'm thankful that I have a great job, clothes to wear, and an apartment to live in. Today though, I really just wanted to punch everyone and everything in the face.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, not feeling the greatest. I had just a couple pieces of toast instead of my protein charged breakfast like I usually have. I realized that was a mistake. By 11 A.M. I was starving. I actually felt hunger pains which I never feel. Then it was back home to eat lunch, but I realized I had no groceries to prepare my meal. Not only that, but I needed to swing by the office. So I set out for the office, knowing I could grab my groceries on the way back. Well "swing by" turned into a little over an hour, and by the time I was finished I had to go pick up my roomie to do laundry.

I was so angry and grumpy that I couldn't smile at anything. I had to make a detour to the store and pick up something to make for lunch. I made a sandwich and ate some watermelon. I can't really explain to you the difference food has made in my day. I didn't realize just exactly HOW hungry I really was. The second I ate that last piece of watermelon I felt a calm take over my body. Seriously, our bodies are amazing and I need to learn to listen to mine.

Learning the difference between being hungry or being bored, sad, happy, excited, etc. has been my biggest challenge. I've avoided in the last couple weeks by eating on a fairly strict schedule. I guess my body was content with that and doesn't like the idea of me coming close to skipping a meal.

All I can say is, God Bless my turkey sandwich and watermelon.

Misadventure

I hit the scale yesterday and weighed in at 186.4. That was another three pound loss. Although I think I gained some back today. It was a big breakfast, steak & potato, dessert kinda day. I didn't get my workout in today like I wanted to and here's why...

That's me before my first big trail ride! I've been giving serious thought to trail running, but when the opportunity came up to ride the trail on my good-as-new bike, I jumped at it. Seriously, nothing sounded greater than that this week. I love riding my bike. It's not the same feeling as running. It's a different kind of high, and I was stoked to take in the scenery of a beautiful trail in Smithville. I look upset, but that's really only because I wanted to grab a quick picture to capture the moment before Eric saw me taking a "selfie" for no-good-reason, outside the car...before we even hit the trail. Smiling would have been too obvious.

Eric gave me some quick tips and off we went. I was a little nervous at first. The trail was narrow and the obstacles were a little different than I had imagined, but it wasn't long before I was comfortable, taking the turns faster and approaching the obstacles with less hesitation. Eric got in front of me by quite a bit, which I was expecting. I came upon the first set of bridges about a half mile in. I passed over them and hit the next set a little farther down the trail.


I don't really know what happened when I hit that one bridge. All I know is that one second I was up and the next I was down. Man down! I hit my head...hard. Even through my helmet I felt the impact. I looked up and saw Eric about 20 feet away, turned on his bike looking back at me.I put my head back down. I thought to myself,  I just hit my head kind of hard. I can probably keep going. I can see still. 

Eric finally got to me and asked me if I was okay. I looked up to say yes, but that's when the blood came.

Eric decided to "wash off" the bridge before I could snap a picture. It's amazing that amount of blood that can pump out of a small wound on your head. We couldn't decide if I needed stitches, but since neither one of us are doctors we decided we better get it checked out. I had to make the 3/4 mile trek back to the car, walking my bicycle. Once I got to the car, I realized the emergency room was actually what I most likely needed. 

The ER in Smithville was a treat. After I got checked in, I went to use the restroom. When I came back Eric was gone. He had left his phone in his chair and...one shoe. I browsed the room. Where did he go with just one shoe? The other person in the waiting room motioned to outside. There he was...in the tick removal process. Double bummer.

They took me back. I waited for an eternity for my three stitches. 

Doctor: What happened here?

Me: I fell off my bike

Doctor: Don't people stop doing that when they're about 10 years old?

Me: Well I was riding the trail at Smithville and something caught on a bridge and I fell off and broke the fall with my face.

Doctor: Oh. You CRASHED your bike. Don't tell people you fell off your bike. That's embarrassing.

A couple hours and about 14 only half-way amusing doctor jokes later, I was out of there. I left with blue stitches. "Blue is your color. I can tell," the doc told me. I also left with injured pride, confirmation that the puncture wound on my head  (that he couldn't stitch) WILL scar, and...a tick. But the truth of the matter is, I also left with yet another story I could write about. Every day can be an adventure if you let it, and although this turned into a "misadventure", I'm still glad I tried something new. I can't wait to give it another spin, when all the blood rushing to my head from riding doesn't make the stitches pop out of my head. Five days is what the doctor told me.

In the meantime, I'll try to remember that sometimes things just don't go as we plan. It could have been a lot worse. I'm glad I was wearing a helmet and I'm glad Eric was with me for the little ordeal. He was a good friend for staying with me, even after I ruined his day on the trail with my face plant. He reacted quickly, even though he admitted that at first when he looked back he thought I was "planking". Because I always stop in the middle of a trail ride to lay on a bridge and plank. :) 

But maybe I do? That was my first ride and maybe I'll add random planking to the routine next time. A voluntary plank is always better than an involuntary one where you're supporting your body weight with your face.

Cheers to misadventures!

The glasses didn't make it...

Good Friend Award!