so you think to yourself...

if I run a half marathon, then I will be a runner.
So you train
from January til April, increasing mileage weekly but never looking ahead to what the next week might hold. On Sunday of week 4, you know that if you run 5 miles, you will call it a miracle, but you can't possibly think ahead to the coming weeks when you will run 7, then someday 9 - all leading up to the big day, when you will run more than double that measly little run of week 4. Week 4 is tough. Many of your longer run days feel like make it or break it days, but for some reason week 4 is a deciding factor. But you make it through and you settle into your "easy" three mile run on the first day of week 5 trying not to acknowledge that there is no turning back now. And you are scarily aware that three miles has become an easy run. In these moments pride mixes with anxiety and knowing that you will burst if you linger for one moment longer on the truth that there are many, many more miles to come, you concentrate instead on each step. Just one foot in front of the other. Simple. Methodic. Rhythmic. And pace after pace your stress eases.

Then suddenly its 9 mile day. You are painfully aware that you have not completed all of the miles you should have logged by now, but you remind yourself that you are in charge - that you decide what your legs will do and even though breathing is not always at it's best, you pray for deep breaths and little anxiety and you prepare. You eat the right thing and you drink the right amount of water and you give yourself an out by saying that if you need to walk, you can walk. And then it's just you, on the road, running first your three mile loop (easy) and then your four mile loop (harder, but done). So you've run 7 and now 2 doesn't seem bad at all. So you keep going. Your app tells you that you've hit 8.5 and you want to stop, but you don't - partly because you want Sonja Richards Ross to congratulate you and partly because at this point half a mile is a cake walk. And you complete it. You thank Tegan and Sara for their distracting new album and you tell yourself that now you know you can do it because you ran 9. And after 9 you would only have to do an easy three mile and then a one mile and then .1 and you can hardly believe it.
Despite the fact that in the last few months, you have dealt with sore muscles, breathing struggles, black outs, inclement weather (including rain, sleet, and below freezing temperatures), negativity, and that pesky voice in your head asking you what in the world you are doing, you are somehow proud... and glad. And now you feel like a runner. The next four weeks of training fly by in a blur as you have taken even further steps to be prepared. You quit drinking Dr. Pepper and you realize you are sleeping better than usual. You feel great - maybe better than you have ever felt. And on race day, you have a blast - more on race day later. It was an incredible experience!

So you would think that after that (and maybe a week or so of rest), you would keep it up - at least so that three miles can still be considered easy. But summer happens and it's hot. And there's not an end goal and you have a million excuses, but really it's mostly laziness. So maybe it didn't work for you. Maybe you're not a runner afterall, even though you have a sticker on your car proudly broadcasting the 13.1....
Then there's a day like today. The weather is so perfect, it feels like it would be wrong to not run. In your head you know that three miles used to be easy, but your body does not remember that time. So you barely survive two, but that's okay. A year ago, you would have said that beautiful days like today are for sitting outside and reading or laying out a blanket and napping on the grass, but today you went outside and could only think of one thing... And excited you grab your tennis shoes. Oh no. It happened. And you decide maybe, just maybe it did work for you. Maybe, just maybe you became a runner.

Days like today are meant for one thing....
I promise you if I can do it, you could too :)

new life calling

On Tuesday, my mom texted me in stress mode because she was packing for my dad's big wig business trip and she needed help. We go through this just about every time she is going to some thing la di da with my dad. So I went straight from work and explored her closet. She tried on some things and we picked out some outfits and then decided to return the new pants she had purchased (we just weren't convinced about the capri-length legging in those colors... she had gotten a greenish color and an orangey color - bold choices that I was so proud of, but just not working with anything she already owned...) Then I asked what she was planning to wear to their one nicer-ish event. She said this was one outfit she already knew she liked so she put it on. Now, my mother is beautiful - she's got amazing legs and recently has slimmed quite a bit - so this shirt that she has had for a little while and loved now had a problem. It was far too big. Always a subject you want to tread lightly on because when someone is already loving what they have on, you don't want to throw off that confidence, but I also could not let my mama wear that white tuxedo-looking shirt. It wouldn't have been right. So I told her that, even though I love the idea, the shirt just looks a little... well big... which let's be honest, is the best problem you can have. We searched her closet again and found another top that would work, but I could tell she wasn't loving it... Then she asked if we should go shopping. I mean I am definitely not one to turn that down so with exactly 18 minutes until I had to be at Bible study, I ran frantically around Chicos with my mother. Chicos would not always be my first choice (it tends to be a little older looking, and just not my mom's style), but the tuxedo shirt she had loved so much came from there so we went in search of the exact same thing, just a couple of sizes smaller. Well, they didn't have it. And we needed something. Now.

Challenge Extended.

I proceeded to run through racks in the store and found two or three options, one of which I already knew was my favorite - a beautiful red shirt with a pretty neckline and not too much cling. Something I would love to borrow (which I knew would be a selling point). She tried it on and it was love at first sight and did I mention it was RED?! Major progress for a woman who consistently drifts toward the neutral side. So, she bought it! (and the crowds went wild!)
Then with my time up and my mission accomplished, I flew out the door and down the street for Bible study. On the drive I realized that the fashion panic moments are my fave. There should be a TV show about that or something. It's the last minute, I have to have something that works now, and I want to love it attitude that fuels my fire. With people I know, I love to find things that work for them - something a little bit out there, but still very them. Usually I can find it in their closet (when it's your own clothes, it's easy to forget the potential there). But I don't mind shopping for something new at all :)
So I now think this is my new life calling... I will be the go-to for fashion emergencies... And designing the business card now...

Here's the shirt my mom bought (on a model - maybe I can talk my mom into doing a photo shoot for my blog) - oh and everything in the store that day was 40% off! It was like the stars aligned for us :) :)

Click here to see for yourself!

weekend of labor

This weekend (specifically yesterday) I had to make a pretty big decision. For those of you who know me, you probably gritted your teeth at that thought. I struggle with decisions - well I guess I should say I struggle with some decisions. Sometimes I can answer immediately - for example, yes, I will always want mustard on my hotdog and no I do not want to dive with sharks or swim across the Atlantic - easy. decision made. However, this was one of those life changing, feels like I am paralyzed, how am I ever supposed to know what I am supposed to do, what is the meaning of life type of decisions and so, I panicked. Completely and utterly and ugly cried for about two hours as my precious family tried to console me.

Fact: no one can make this decision except for you. oh greeeeaaaaaattttttt.

Fact: either way you are going to be okay. ya right. this one is definitely going to kill me.

Fact: God will never leave you or forsake you. I am pretty sure I believe that but it doesn't feel like it.

Katie: ugly cry, ugly cry, ugly cry

It's like I just wanted someone to tell me that I no longer had the choice, but instead I had to do whatever they told me. When both decisions sound okay, that is logical right? Just someone tell me what to do!!!! I tried to get my mom or dad to do that, but they refused, not because they didn't want to necessarily (but I do believe you didn't want to, right Mama?) But more because they believe in me. They believes that I am capable and that, more than I give myself credit for, I can make decisions. I have been practicing for years. I would have gladly allowed this sister to decide for me. She is wise and knows me well. But she didn't want to either - because she has made it almost all the way through her twenties and lived well and sees the value in these moments - in learning about yourself and knowing yourself and growing into yourself. I would have even let my baby sister choose for me, but she, too, could see the development happening inside of me and as my biggest fan, was confident that I could do it.

I, however, couldn't see what they saw. I couldn't see the ability. I could only see the problem. 

But honestly, these are the people we need around when the world gets blurry, when we can't seem to see straight and things are too overwhelming. Sometimes you just need people who will let you ugly cry and not judge you for making decisions hard. And they will even sympathize with you and agree that this one really is a hard decision and they may not envy you, but they believe in you and they believe in your God who will not forsake you and they believe in the Holy Spirit inside of you who will guide you. Because the world is super overwhelming. And sometimes we don't know what we're doing or where we're going. Toward the end of the conversation, my oldest sister asked if she could pray for me. (To quote some great friends, "Has it come to this?!") I wish I could tell you that prayer was my first instinct, but this time I thought I could do it - silly me. No. I couldn't. I needed the Lord. I need the Lord. So Abby prayed and then I realized that more than anything I need to pray - daily - no, more like moment by moment. I need to pray. I need to be in communication with the God who created me and who gives peace. I went later to a coffee shop and was reminded of this scripture:

But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives, do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid... John 14

Peace. He gives peace. I am sure of it. And now the decision is all over with. And the world didn't end. He sustains me and He guides me. Thank goodness I am not just left up to myself.

Come thou fount of every blessing. Tune my heart to sing thy grace.
Streams of mercy never ceasing call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet, sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount, I'm fixed upon it. Mount of thy unchanging love.