From Broken To Mended....My Journey From An Insecure Youth To Who I Am Today

IN THE BEGINNING

 

I guess you could say my troubles began under a solid oat kitchen table. Each morning I would wake up to a "normal American fair breakfast" of Corn Flakes or Bran Flakes with Raisins. One bowl would never do it...I would sneak an extra bowl and with that bowl, I would scoop up the sugar dish and hide in my kitchen cave. Hidden between the chairs, thinking I would be invisible to the world. It wasn't Candy Land or Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, but I was able to pile as many spoonfuls of sugary goodness atop my breakfast cereal without the judgment or discipline I feared. I can remember it like it was moments ago. The moment all of the cereal was downed, I had the milk, sweet on its own, but never enough. The pile of sugar that greeted me as I drank down the last of the milk was worth the wait. And with that a Sugar Addict was born.

At the ripe ol' age of 36 I have survived many of my days in a cloud of deception. As a personal trainer and a Nutritional Therapy Practitioner, I fight every moment of every day to make the next best nutritional decision. I assure you I have tried every trick to kick this addiction that has followed me most of my life. People scoff at me when I mention I have a real problem with sugar. And then some, with knee jerk reaction, meet me with a wave of judgement, that even my best defenses can't deflect. I want to be real, transparent, open and honest, but I know my facade of perfection will fall like a house of cards. I will have to meet my worries, anger, hurts, fear, insecurity and failures head on. I am certain they will come as a tidal wave. Every moment I shoved a hurt down with a giant chocolate-chocolate chip cookie or dinner roll would come back and consume me. I wasn't strong enough to face these hard moments. So, I would retreat to my kitchen and make my "husband/children" a batch of cookies to show them the love I have for them. Sadly, consuming entirely too much cookie dough. The moment when you tell yourself, 'You have to decide between cookie dough and cookie,' knowing you will eat both and be sick afterwards, is the moment you know you have a problem.

You see, I play these games with myself. I'll make brownies and promise myself that I will only lick the bowl once the brownies are in the oven. A spoonful of batter later...I look in the sink at the four dirty spoons I used for each decadent bite. I know it's a very slippery slope. One always leads to five, ten, fifteen...bites. Only once I feel sick or heaps of guilt do I stop. Years ago, I would have gone for a run and tried to undo my lack of self control. Every minute, every mile was a moment to meet my life head on and count my steps back to perfection. No worries, I don't just have a problem with brownies. I'm an equal opportunity carbohydrate/sugar lover. I'll buy cookies from the store, so I don't have to worry about the cookie dough and then the rat race begins! I eat two....that's a realistic serving size. Then I go back for two more....then three....only to realize I've eaten five cookies and the disgust sets in. If I eat three more, the row will be gone and I can stop...That isn't enough to shut off the pull of the voices. You are weak! You have already failed. You will be fat forever. You might as well eat as many as you want and start again tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow, with a clean slate you will have enough will power to be strong and perfect. 

My trouble comes when I look in the mirror. Never good enough. Never thin enough, Never fit enough. My friends, my family are supportive of course. Right? "Oh my gosh Kristen, get over it! You are fit! People would kill to have a body like yours! You are strong! You are beautiful!" Yes, but would they kill for the demons floating around in my head. Would they long for the voices that yell, "You will never be good enough! You'll never reach your goal unless you starve! You're weak! You are a fraud and a liar and you will be found out!"

As a young teenager I began dieting. Every moment of every day was a struggle with food. I would count every calorie. Low fat, no fat, Adkins, Sugar Free, Fasting, The Brigham Young Diet, All Protein, Diet soda and protein bars; you name it I tried it. No eating after 7pm. No eating til 4pm. One meal a day. Binge and Purge, Binge and exercise. Exercise for hours on end. All to no avail. I remained, in my mind, a pudgy 136 lbs. I was depressed. I hated my body. I wanted to give up on all of it, but the fear of being fat and ugly spurred me on. The irony is, I was so fearful of being fat and ugly and yet, I thought I was fat and ugly. From the outside I looked confident and strong. I was loud and talkative. I was fun to be around and spent much of my time trying to make others feel welcome and accepted while I felt a million miles away from being okay. I ran track and cross country. I received the award for most dedicated three years in a row. I was co-captain of the girls cross country team. At one point, when the local news came to interview the captains of the team I was told I wouldn't be interviewed. I wasn't who they were wanting to speak with. I wasn't fast enough, or good enough to be interviewed. I was however, "the backbone" of the team that encouraged others and brought everyone together, or so it was explained to me. All I heard is, "The fat slow kid doesn't need to be interviewed." Again, I was the personality. I would always be wittled down to being, likable. At one point, my high school boyfriend's, if you can call him that, dad told me, "You have a great voice for radio!" I remember wanting to crawl into my shoes and run the other direction. I felt like all of my youth was riddled with back handed compliments. I'm sure, most people feel the same way. As a matter of fact, the adults around me would encourage me by saying, "Everyone at your age feels inadequate and ugly. You're normal." And yet, I felt a million miles from normal. Hell, I was Home Coming queen...kinda. I was a Natural Helper (a group of youth that came together to commit to helping others in our school get through difficult times.) I was our schools basketball manager, Key Club Secretary, a member of the yearbook club, and of course "co"- captain of our track team. Comical at best...I threw Shotput and discus in track, because I was certain that was the event all of the "stalky, strong girls" participated in.

Living through the ninties with pale white skin, broad shoulders, a round butt and chubby cheeks felt like a curse. I was certain that if I had only been born a hundred years earlier all of my troubles would have disappeared. And, without a time machine I was left to be tortured daily by the voices in my head.

I remember participating in Brigham Young Hospital diet. I was able to have 1/2 a cup of vanilla icecream at the end of the day. An endulgance I longed for after I spent the previous 8 hours eating 500 calories of plain tuna, green beans, a slice of toast with 1 TB of peanut butter. I hated those days and oddly enough, to this day icecream causes an ounce of PTSD in my life. I weighed in daily always feeling like a failure. I wanted, needed, dreamed, longed to weigh 125 and to this day that number is my success marker. I will share with you only a few times have I hit that number and held it there....the flu of 2006, months after being diagnosed with Celiac, and the months after my husband and I seperated. I wont try to lie to you. I look back on those three instances fondly. I loved how I looked. I didn't care how stressful those moments were. I didnt care that in photos I looked sickly. I loved looking down and having a perfectly flat stomach.

So how does all of this tie together to writing about sugar and more importantly sugar addiction? I had one thing in my life that immediately made me feel better. A bite of anything sweet... for a moment I didn't care about a belly bulge or how I had to use anti chaffing goo when I ran to prevent my legs from chaffing while they rubbed together. I didn't care that I had to take ten photos before I found an angle that I didn't feel made my face look fat. If I had a hard day, I knew I could bake up a batch of cookies and for a few moments I wouldn't have a care in the world. The warmth of the oven and the smells wafting through the air wrapped me in comfort. I knew it was a few more moments before life was g

ood again...but then like a wrecking ball the wave of comfort would turn on me and consume me with the weight of guilt, and disgust. I was, yet again...a failure. 8 cookies deep in dispair and with a moment of weakness, a weeks worth of work was gone. Leveled and cleared. A clean slate to many is viewed as a moment to start again. To me it's the moment when you have written a ten page research paper and your computer chooses to crash. All of that painstaking work gone! And with nothing to do but start again....that is what I would do.

WHY OH WHY DO WE NEED TO KNOW THIS????

I share this story with you nearly six months after I sat at my computer on an early morning and spilled these therapeutic thoughts out in black and white print. I knew I had a few things to work on in my personal life and the first and foremost would shock me more than it may shock you. I needed to learn to love myself and give myself grace for each day. It was NEVER a moral failure when I chose to eat cookies. I was not a failure for feeding my emotions. You see, the longer I allowed to play the game of winner and loser I would always end up on the losing end. We will always be able to be better and never reach perfection.

I also share this story with you, because after 15 years working in the fitness industry, I know these thoughts ran/run through many of your minds. You sit in your home thinking you are the only one with this struggle. Everyone else has life figured out! Why do they all seem so confident while I sit over hear wanting to melt into my chair. I want the shouts of failure to leave my head. I want to be enough, today and not always be looking to be happier tomorrow. My worth shouldn't be wrapped in a number on the scale or a tag in my jeans...but it is and I hate it! I hate that I feel better when I am eating French fries and when I'm upset, cake feels better than a hug. I'm sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. Or maybe you have it all figured out. Maybe your struggle isn't with food or fitness or confidence. Maybe you are stronger and healthier than the rest of us. And if that is you....I commend you for the hard work you have put into your life! Truly, I am happy for you. You see your success DOES NOT have to be more of our failure. Your health and wellness does not need to mean we are less than the best. We can all coexist while trying to figure this crazy, messy, chaotic at time, insanely confusing life out and we can do it supporting where each and every one of us are at each and every moment. You see, if you spend your life comparing yourself to others you will always lose. You will feel confident one moment and horrible the next. You will quintessentially spend your days on an emotional roller coaster. Step off the ride and walk your own path, head held high and okay with sometimes, just not feeling okay. And quite frankly....that's OKAY!

ME TODAY

I can tell you I do not eat brownies by the fist full. Cookies no longer hold the pull they used to. I am a solid 10 lbs. heavier than emotionally I would prefer to be, it does not define who I am. I am a healthy, strong, mother, daughter, wife, and friend with the ability to do and be what I love each day. I still have crappy thoughts about myself. However, my follow up thought is always, "that is not your truth. Feelings do not make your reality." You are who you need to be today. I have a healthier relationship with food. I am able to make healthy decision and although I am convinced if I was given sixth months to live, I would start each day with chocolate cake...I know that doesn't have to be what ultimately makes me happy. A family movie night without candy and popcorn is still a movie night. Dinner without dessert is still satisfying. I do not want to paint a picture that I have finally reached perfection. I still had a brownie on vacation. Yep, that happened. That blasted nemesis of mine. However, I did not feel the need to wake up the next day and finish the pan. In fact five days later, half the pan remains in my kitchen and I let my family know I would be throwing them away at days end if they don't want them. I also eat 2 TB of almond butter every evening and enjoy every tasty bite. And until someone tells me almond butter is going to kill me, I don't foresee breaking this habit.

Today I can tell you, whole heartedly, I love my life. I love my husband and children. I love the friends I have been blessed with today. I love, running towards something, while feeling free. Instead of running from something, feeling shackled. I love, finally enjoying real and health foods. I love, cooking and creating in the kitchen. I love reading to my children. I love that my son ALWAYS sneaks out of bed to come and give me an extra hug every night and tell me he loves me. I love movie night in with the family and simple coffee dates with my besties. I love, impromptu play dates and in the spur of the moment, family weekend trips. I love that my middle child is a fiery redhead who would rather dance in the rain than hurry to the car on busy mornings. I love that my 12 year old has quick whit and is a crowd pleaser, but also shares her feelings openly and honestly. I love, having just enough to get by in life, but not so much I have to concern myself with the stock market! LOL. I can say after years of finding things to hate, I have finally made a conscious effort to love what I love and leave the rest. PS I still hate folding laundry!!!! This will NEVER CHANGE!

Compassion Fashion



As I logged on to Facebook this week as I often do. Okay, I always do. Okay, got me again. I never actually log off so I, at all times, can be found with a "logged in" light next to my name. None the less, I came across a story. A horrific story that I will only give the very topical details on, as it has been devastating for me to read further into and I hope to spare you these details.

A father forgot his beloved child in his car on a hot day and the 22 month old child died.

 

I do not bring this to your attention to rain down furry on this father. Or to bring to mind the act of putting your purse or brief case next to a small child when placing him in the back seat of your car; particularly if you are, generally, not in charge of day care drop off. I am bringing this story up because of the comments this tragic, happens-entirely-too-often story conjured. "Burn in Hell!" One woman wrote. "This man obviously didn't love his child to do this." Another Facebook 'Non-Friend' wrote. "Put him in an oven and give him a taste of his own medicine." Angrily typed, I'm sure.

The tears I had for this child and the angst for the mother and father who lost their precious bundle was quickly shadowed by anger. I was angry. Protective, even. How could we be so cruel? Where in the world is the compassion? Can none of us place ourselves in the shoes of this man for even a moment to imagine the turmoil he must feel. Dieing couldn't even ease his pain. The hole I felt in my heart even imagining losing one of my children doesn't come close to the crator left from a hot day, a rushed morning and a forgetful father. His screaming and thrashing with "What have I done!" will quickly be forgotten by on lookers. The friends of Facebook will go on with their days and some wont put another thought to their post. This man will never stop thinking about that day, that moment...

I was reminded of a sad truth. Compassion is often forgotten. Particularly on social media. We don't have to place ourselves in others shoes. Heck, we don't even have to see their shoes! We sit in the comforts of our homes with opinions as plentiful as pennies in my couch cushions (there are a lot of pennies in my couch cushions.) We don't think twice. Heck, most of us don't even think once. We fly off the handle. We spew our anger. We don't wait to process our own feeling to understand how to work through them. We are angry at what happened, at the injustice, at the thought of this happening to us. And the louder we scream, "I WOULD NEVER DO SOMETHING SO STUPID!" We feel we, somehow, we push the possibility of it ever happening to us farther away. Unfortunately, this is not how it works. We are all capable of mistakes. Horrible, terrible, I wish I could turn back time mistakes. Some of us will never, thankfully, have to account for this capability and others will stand together wishing for a time machine.

People, we are all in this together. No one gets out unscathed, less broken hearted, or safe and sound. We all hurt. We all cry. And most of us feel, at least once, that life wont go on. The severity for some will be different, but to us it's pain, plain and simple. The more we can extend compassion to others the more fulfilling our lives will actually be. Compassion is not understanding what someone has gone through. It isn't even agreeing with what happened. It is saying, my heart hurts for you I desire to help you even if I can't and I too wish we had a time machine to go back and right a wrong.

My prayer is we will be able to find empathy without the pain of sympathy. My desire is for even one of us to extend a hand to help, an arm to embrace and our heart to fill someone with a ounce of the love they have lost. Compassion should be our fashion.

..Awareness Month

May is Celiac Awareness Month!

As well as Better Sleep, Melanoma, Colitis, and Better Posture, Clean Air, Better Hearing and Speech Awareness Month.

I feel like it is safe to say it is practically National Kristen Awareness Month. In my very short stint at life. VERY SHORT mind you I have either dealt with or had a healthy fear off all of these ailments. You see, I have this nice alabaster skin that is fondly referred to as "Dang girl you're WHITE!" Yes, I certainly check the white Anglo Saxon on my, 'Who are you?' form. However, I am certain I also hit a new kinda' pale. I'm sure I should have had red hair or possibly been deemed an albino. However, that Awareness Month is September and since I don't clinically have this condition I will in no way belittle this condition with humor. I am a pale princess with little to no hope of every having a sun kissed demeanor. However, I also have a higher risk of getting Melanoma because of my inability to tan and over ability to burn. I, as well, have the social stigma of being so pale that half of the free Nation of America would like to inform me that I may need to spend a few more moments in the sun as to not blind the other half of our free nation. Thank you kindly, but if I hate being made fun of for being white I assure you I hate Melanoma more.

My parents, whom I love dearly, have also given me the gift of gab, which we will refer to as speech this month, because that proves my point perfectly. I will make it a point to increase my hearing awareness and move on. Clean air is certainly a cause I concern myself with on a daily basis. As I run along many a road and fear sucking in exhaust will completely undo any positive health benefits I am trying to gain from running. Better sleep awareness is a cause any mother can hang her hat. And I wish it could just be better sleep awareness year, as a sound machine, fan, Posturepedic foam mattress, sleep number pillow, light blocking shades and Sleepy Time Tea isn't enough to give me good sleep when my two year old comes crawling into my bed to do sleep jumping jacks. Thank you Lord for my son, please send better sleep my way this month.

Better posture when you are a personal trainer is always a must, for if you slouch for one moment I assure you it will be noticed, photographed and brought to your attention on a moment to moment basis. Chest out! Gut in! Shoulders rolled down and back! Don't forget to breathe....

And yet all of this brings me back to Celiac Awareness month. My parents, have I mentioned how much I love them? Well they have given me a lot of kickin' traits! My screaming hysterical personality, my ability to make friends in socially awkward situations, my ridiculously awesome work ethic and what I mean by that is my ability to find that life is too much work! They have also bequeathed on me the worlds worst digestive track! I am not kidding! I can eat nothing short of ANYTHING without feeling like the weight of the world is reigning down on my intestines. We will keep this out of the TMI region and allow you to know that food although tasty is no longer my love. Gluten makes me crazy, and what I mean by that is when I eat it in any levels I lose my eye sight, become dizzy to the point of stumbling down stairs and slur my speech. I realize some of you are thinking. I'm sure she has a drinking problem. Well, that was last month's awareness and that is also not the case. I spent too many days trying with all of my might to remedy these ailments with ANYTHING but a gluten free diet. I was certain my naturopath was off of her rocker. The tests that I spent entirely too much money on were bunk and maybe just maybe these symptoms were all in my head....no pun intended.

Well.....

Here I stand. Actually I am sitting. Typing while standing, although a calorie burner and posture improver....wait, okay now I'm standing! Where was I? Here I stand gluten free and hating it! Seriously! I live in Portland Oregon! Please don't stalk me. I'm definitely not stalk worthy. This is the meca for gluten free....recycling, cycling, Birkenstocks (yes, they still make those), dairy free, deodorant free, chemical free, and a free loving life. And yet I am in the midst of crazy!

GLUTEN FREE SHOULDN'T BE A FAD DIET!

Let's be clear. Gluten free is not a "diet." Seriously! I am a personal trainer so when people hear I am gluten free their immediate response is, "Sweet! I am doing that diet too!" Twenty years ago gluten free may have been a killer diet. Now you can find gluten free cookies, cakes, brownies, breads, waffles, crackers and pasta. I know, I have searched them out. And the real clincher that gluten free isn't a diet is that ALL of these foods have more fat and sugar to make them tasty than their cheaper sister foods! I do not recommend jumping on the gluten free band wagon unless you have Celiac or a true gluten intolerace. You should also note that....

GLUTEN IS NOT THE CAUSE FOR ALL OF OUR PROBLEMS.

I've heard more than a few times that gluten is the reason for all of our diseases, ailments and itises. Okay, lets be honest with each other. While some people are physically not able to eat gluten without serious ailments. Others should not eradicate an entire food supply because they fear it will destroy them. However, I think what you will find is eating too much chemical, sugar and fat filled foods is the reason for all of our problems. Gluten is a binder and yes it binds to our intestines and does some not so cool stuff but if 90% of our diet was veggies, legumes, multiple grains and lean proteins (also not the reason for ALL of our illnesses) we would have a much better internal self. I promise. Here's the problem.

Let me paint you a picture....

American Diet:
Breakfast - Diet high fiber, boxed cereal and 3/4 cup milk, 3 cups of coffee with non-dairy creamer (Because you know, you are trying to cut down on dairy, right.)
Snack - Granola Bar
Lunch - Turkey Sandwich with cheese, mayo, and mustard. Diet Coke (Sugar is bad for us and yet chemicals aren't????)
Snack - Light Yogurt with dried cranberries (I hear they are full of antioxidants.) and a Handful of Pretzels (They are fat free right?), Diet Coke
Dinner - Spaghetti with Meat Sauce, bread and butter (Heck I'll have two pieces), Diet Coke with a lemon.
Snack - Potato Chips (While watching our favorite shows. Holy CRAP! I just ate the whole bag!!!!!

Although nothing inherently terrible about this diet, right? WRONG! It is filled with sugar, chemicals and fat! The very little vegetables and fruit found in this diet are processed and sugar coated. Yes, you will find a plethora of gluten, but I would argue it is the combination of many bad for your choices that will ultimately be the downfall of the American internal infrastructure!

What the American Diet Should Be Closer To:
Breakfast: 1/2 cup Oatmeal, 1 TB raisins, Cinnamon, and 1 Organic Hard Boiled Egg
Snack: 1 Sliced Bell Pepper, 1/2 Cup Carrots, 1 TB Peanut Butter
Lunch: 3 Cups Spinach, 1/2 Cucumber, 1/2 Cup Kidney Beans, 1 Sliced Green Onion, 1 TB Avocado, 1 Sliced Beet (Yes, people still eat these.), 2 TB Vinaigrette (1 TB Olive Oil, 1 TB Red Wine Vinegar, Salt and Pepper to taste)
Snack: 1/2 Large Apple and 1 TB Almond Butter
Dinner: 1 Chicken Breast, 1 1/2 Cup Broccoli, 1/2 Sweet Potato with Salt to taste.

*This diet is a general recommendation for incorporating whole foods into your life and should not be followed without the recommendation of you doctor or health care provider.

~Thanks! Kristen

liveinspiredpdx.com

Find Your Voice

Finding your voice is never easy. Some of us have found it and then through loose clenched fists, it slipped away. Others, fearful of finding what it has to say, refuse to acknowledge it is there. Some find it hard to hear over the droning of this world. And those who have found it and seemed to have held tight, may have found themselves using it as a weapon instead of a tool.

As a young child I remember being afraid to speak. I remember not wanting to make my own choices. I wanted others to speak for me and make my own decisions. I was okay with following a path on the map to my future. Making decisions was scary. Thinking on my own and allowing others to hear what on the inside was paralyzing.  However, when I found a voice I was unable to control it. Speaking loudly allowed me to get a point across. What point, I wasn't quite sure. All I knew is I wanted to be heard. My voice was left unchecked and unfiltered. Honesty cloaked by sarcasm became a weapon to protect me. Loud and funny became my shield. And sadly, my true voice lie quiet, hoping for a debut some day. I found myself allowing others to walk my walk and lead me where they felt "my journey" was destined. I stuck up of for myself, never. And found "no" was a five letter word with the last three letters silent. And yet I became others' voice in the darkness. However, what I didn't realize was, that instead of allowing them to find their own voice I merely became their vehicle of change without allowing them the joy of finding their own symphony.

Don't get me wrong, being the verbal hero to those who are lost and quiet is a valiant and noble venture. However, shielding the hurts often times robs someone of the joy of standing firmly on their own two feet, announcing who they are in this crazy, loud and chaotic world.

At 33, I feel like I am finding who I am. Some areas I don't like and others, that I have fervently tried to change, I realize I like quite nicely. I have begun to allow myself to see that although I may not walk the journey set out for me at a young age by others; I will walk and sometimes run the path I have forged for myself. Someone once said, (Thank you Ross Matthews)"Learning who you aren't is just as important as learning who you are."

I have found my voice. I may be loud and unfiltered at times. I may say things you don't want to hear. My loud and energetic may clash with your quiet and serene. Sadly, I may (WILL) sing out of tune or in the wrong key. However, I have found what is important in this confusing world. I found me.

My hope for you in this world where others will assure you, they know what you need and should want, that you find your voice. High pitched, squeaky, perfectly in time, gargling gravel, rough, too big, too little, too loud or too quiet. I hope you find it and you realize, it's just right.

~Kristen
liveinspiredpdx.com

Facebook Etiquette

You've been there! I've been there! We've certainly all been there! The time vortex of Facebook. We spend nothing short of half our lives spying on others lives. Yes, I realize it is a heck of a lot safer than sitting outside of their house to see what your friend is eating for dinner. And it's certainly a whole lot more socially acceptable than following their kids to the latest birthday party, field trip or church visit to see how freaking adorable they are! 'Cause they are! We love love love to see what others are doing.

But...

Lets be clear! I have done this and so have you, so don't lie. It's kinda like Photoshop for models. We take pictures of ourselves only to transfer, process, or fade it. Which ever makes us look the best. Auto correct and red eye reduce and crop because, why on earth does my arm look so fat! Does my arm always look that fat? Excuse me while I go check. I'm sure someone from my graduating class will see this and be thrilled to see that I have fat arms now. Let me assure you. It's ok to be you. It's alright to be caught allowing your stomach to buldge just a little. Posting this will make the rest of the world take a sigh of relief. We are all normal, untouched-up, un-cropped, awkward at times. Now if I'm mid scream with one eye half shut eating a donut don't you dare post that!

And with the fear of sharing the real us we also share too much. Seriously too much! We think our bosses aren't looking on our Facebooks when we call in sick for work to see why. They are and those photos you didn't post but your bestie did are incriminating. No you wont be seeing the inside of the slammer...hopefully, but you risk losing your job or at the very least your bosses respect. You post what you ate. What you didn't eat. What you drank and whoops what you drank too much of. You post who you are pissed at, who you are in love with and who flipped you off on the highway, but it wasn't your fault. Lets be honest sometimes it's our fault. Reign it in people. Once it's out there we can't take it back. So just like you were told as a child. At least I hope you were told this as a child. Filter your thoughts before you say them! Filter your Facebook!

Mom's and Dads, yes, your kids are super adorable. However, taking a picture of Johnny in the tub sans any clothes is not a good idea. The world wide web is certainly not a place you want to be placing photos of your cute little bundle with nothing but suds on his heiney no matter how cute those dimples are. Ok, as a mother it's super funny when you see a little one decide to pee right in the middle of the park. However, whipping out your phone and posting your class clown on the net, also not a good idea.

And to those of you posting on behalf of others... if you have a friend and would like to keep said friend. Do not post a picture just because you look hot and she or he does not. I'm not sure there is a word in the dictionary that would describe how she or he will feel. Unless pissed off is in the dictionary!

We get it! You rock and we do not. You finished 57 things all before the sun came up. We wish we could however, here is what you are doing for yourself. SETTING THE BAR TOO HIGH!!!!! You will swiftly become the mom who is asked to make 147 cupcakes for the bake sale that starts in 3 hours; the dad who certainly has enough time for t-ball coaching, the local big brother program and your sons best friends, brothers Eagle Scout Project. Best to to keep the humble bragging or just plain straight up bragging to a minimum.

Now as you all think I have just checked out your Facebook pages and are talking directly to you. Please draw your attention down to the hysterical Facebook posts I found. PS Spelling and punctuation matter.

Your words can say so much more than you think!

Spelling and punctuation matter! Particularly when you are taking the time to insult others. Oops!

Here's What I Learned

Learning something new about yourself can and usually is difficult. It is usually wrapped in the disguise of an action or event you have just gone through. Often it takes time to realize what you have learned....

2013

Every year I write an account of the previous year in hopes of looking back and learning from the past. This year I found myself hitting my first ever, writer's block. I couldn't find what I had to learn from 2013. I didn't welcome a baby into the world. There were no packing of boxes to celebrate a new home. I hadn't graduated college or gotten married. I was reaching for the positive to learn from. Unfortunately I was having a hard time with finding the easy, the positive, the rose colored past I wanted to use to inspire others.

I celebrated 10 years of marriage. It was not an easy year and I looked forward to not looking back. I celebrated the big 33 (Go Larry Bird!), but found myself wondering what I had to aspire to become. I had no clear cut path to 34 and was terrified  I ran my first and second marathon in hopes of qualifying for the Boston Marathon. I failed. May brought a life sentence of gluten free and a stigma I wished I could hide from. I marched into June and August and felt the heart break and loss of control while I watched paramedics and doctors work tirelessly to stabilize my youngest from his seizures. I thought I would never get through in one piece. I learned to live on less while saying goodbye to two jobs. And I became a stay at home rip your hair out teach your children and yourself patience mom. Boy was it a year....

It's April some of you will notice. "Don't you think it's a bit late to recap 2013?" For goodness sake it's well into 2014. Sometimes learning takes time. On a very long and ridiculously difficult run this morning I realized something that made 2013 make so much more sense. Sometimes, oh frankly most of the time, learning takes pain. The year 2013 will hold hurts and heartbreaks for me, honestly more than I thought I could handle.

Here's what I learned...

I am strong. I mean really strong. Stronger than I thought I could be and certainly stronger than I wanted to be. I survived LIFE. Hard, cold ridiculous to deal with, don't want to get out of bed life. And so did the rest of you. 2013 made me happy for 2014. I am a smarter and more determined runner who puts in the time and energy to be better but is okay if better is already my best. I am a harder worker. I am a more patient mother. I am a loyal and crazy wife. I have compassion for those that feel heartbreak from a sick child. I judge the nutrition choices of others far less than I ever have. I put in the time and energy to simply survive 2013 and am happy today that I did.

So...

 No matter what 2014 holds. I know I am strong enough to make it. Life may get worse and it might get better, but it's life and today I can chalk it up to some extra learning.

Fitbits, Fuel Bands and Loads of Laundry

Some time back I was introduced to the Nike Fuel Band. It seemed like a pretty remarkable tool. As a personal trainer I hear from clients such remarks as, "I move all of the time!" "I exercise daily." However, due to some meager federal laws I am unable to put tracking devices on my clients and video monitoring in their home just seems invasive. So after 13 years of becoming a near detective I was excited to find there was a borderline tracking device that was, at least. socially acceptable for me to monitor. I ran, literally, right out and purchased a Fuel Band. At $149.00 this thing had practically move for me! After six months of wearing it, a borderline obsessive compulsive disorder with tracking my "fuel points," and three replacements due to it breaking all of the time, I determined that unless the store manager at Nike in downtown Portland either became strikingly good looking I was ready to move on.

• Fitbit

Hark! The Fitbit (One)! At a whopping $99.95 (Why don't they just call it what it is?! $100!) I clipped it to my pants and was on my way to a promising more motivated January. I was excited to see the FitBit also tracked calories consumed, steps walked, floors climbed and hours of sleep logged. It seemed like the all around better looking best friend to my retired Fuel Band.

As I logged and tested and logged and retested the validity of this handy dandy device at the scrutiny of anyone who noticed it attached to my hip I became even more obsessive. I am naturally, or really unnaturally a pretty energetic person. I jump out of bed at 4:30 am and hit the floor running. I can be seen seated, never, or possibly if I'm being held captive and tied to a chair. I have a healthy love of TV and generally participate in said hobby while on the treadmill or while sweeping, mopping or folding laundry. Which brings me to my obsessive compulsive activity. Folding laundry. I used to fold laundry while watching....whatever struck my fancy and now I find myself folding a shirt and then walking it into my room putting it in said drawer and walking back for the next article of clothing. It has become a regular workout and although my carpets are going to need to be replaced every six months I am a rock star in the Fitbit world! I know because my Fitbit app said so!

And then it happened....

I lost the charger to my Fitbit. I'm telling you losing my child in the grocery store brought less angst into my life than misplacing that blasted charging dock!!! I searched for that thing for days! Ok, about an hour before I figured logging points for moving, particularly on a ten mile run seemed ridiculous at best. I survived three days without that wonderful gem. And here is what I learned about myself. I stopped folding laundry all together. In fact, there is a mountain of laundry on my couch that I'm certain one of my children is hiding under. I will only walk into another room if I have a minimum of four things to do when I get there and I haven't checked my mail in days. Walking to the mailbox for bills doesn't bring me the Fitbit "high five" it used to bring me.

Sooooo.....

Yes, these handy dandy devices are helpful. Although, spending a whopping a hundred plus dollars (excuse me $99.95 in the Fit Bit One's case) for a glorified pedometer seems a bit much. Yes, you can log your food into an app on your phone. Hurray, except you can do this on a piece of paper and after three whole days and you are no longer food logging this feature won't seem so cool. Some models will tell you how you slept. Of course you have to push and hold a button to tell it you are going to bed. And then while your anxiety begins to build as you race the clock to actually fall asleep this feature doesn't seem so cool either. Then there is remembering to push the other button once you have woken up in a tired stupor. Good luck with that one. So you will find that the 12 hours and 22 min of sleep with 22 active minutes and 72 times of restlessness is almost more productive than your actual daily activity. Floors climbed, although cool, isn't really necessary unless you are competing in your annual Skyscraper Stair Climb. So in the long run...glorified, fancy shmancy pedometer it is! With  $15.95 in your back pocket you can purchase the not so fancy shmancy pedometer from Amazon.

Good luck in any and all of your endeavors and remember that sometimes moving more isn't always the key. Particularly if you are moving more while eating donuts and coffee...

P.S. It should also be noted that I found the charging dock to my Fitbit. You can breathe a sigh of relief. And then precisely 3 months after buying my FitBit it fell off of my pocket and is more than likely attached to, hopefully, a very active Portland homeless person! Do me proud!

Fast Living

Today is the day I change it all! Today I will walk 10,000 steps. I will eat a solid breakfast lunch and dinner. I wont even consider the notion of eating sugar. I will quit smoking. Stop drinking. And just be an all around better person. Before all of you go Face booking that I eat drink and smoke....keep reading.

We all have goals to be better and do better. And by golly we are going to do it all today. Break it off in pieces and tackle them one at a time? Heck no! We want it and we want it now. We want to change and we want to change now. Welcome to our New World Order! Fast! Fast food! Fast parenting! Fast fitness! Fast Internet access. Fast living. Slow the front door down people.

I as much as the rest of you like to move quickly. I walk at break neck speeds and for my meager 5'4" frame. I could rival even the longest of legs in speed. However, sometimes you just need to slow it down. You get 60 seconds a min. 24 hours a day and 365 days a year. That's it!

When I was growing up

Here we go with the, when I was a kid. But it begs to be pointed out. We didn't have freaking COMPUTERS or cell phones, for that matter!!!!! I am 33 years old, not 103. In 15 very short years we have become a bunch of screaming 2 year olds. Seriously! I was seated at a restaurant and this man was throwing a fit that would rival my 2 year old son.. I was certain by this mans flailing arms and convulsing body that someone had spit in his food. His complaint? He had to wait Fifteen minutes for his food. Holy crap! Fifteen minutes?! Let me be crystal clear. If my husband acted like that when I make him dinner I would throw the skillet at his head. What does this guy eat for dinner on a regular basis? Minute meals? And if so, I have my business card he needs. Life doesn't have to serve us quickly all of the time.

Sometimes, you are going to drive behind the little ol' lady that is still in her mind driving on the roads of 1952 and not the 18 lane high ways of today. And unless you are driving your wife to the hospital to give birth, you can take a minute to slow your car down as well.

We want fast, but I'm not entirely certain what we want it for. Where are we getting so much faster? High stress? Anxiety? Depression for not getting life on our terms? Overweight? Irritated? Enjoy when life moves quickly and enjoy it even more when it slows down for you.

It's National Day of Unplugging! So after you read this blog and comment below. Unplug your electronics. Walk slower. Sit down to eat. Drive the speed limit. Do not use your universal sign for "Get off the Freaking road old lady!!!!" Take a breath. Heck some of you need to take twenty. If you are eating out tip your waitress extra because I assure you she has heard at least a few times this week. "MY FOOD TOOK TOO LONG!!!!!"

MARCH 7, 2014 – NATIONAL BE HEARD DAY – NATIONAL DAY OF UNPLUGGING – NATIONAL EMPLOYEE APPRECIATION DAY – NATIONAL CEREAL DAY – NATIONAL CROWN OF ROAST PORK DAY

Community Leads to Honesty

Honesty is a characteristic we spend very little time forging in the fire. Allowing yourself to be honest with another means opening yourself up for someone not agreeing with you. It makes you vulnerable, exposed and defenseless. We all can agree, we would mark honestly as a trait we want in our relationships. However, do we really. I mean really, are we prepared for honesty? We try to be honest. We are taught to be honest. And yet we are never taught to receive an honest answer. Quite frankly we just plain don't want to hear it. We aren't prepared for disagreement and for some reason we take it as a call to arms when someone tells us something we don't want to hear.  Some of us have perfected the fine art of smiling and shrugging when our friends give us an honest answer. But allow an honest answer from Joe Shmoe in the parking lot of Not-a-Ceiling-Nor-A-DoorMart and there may be a throw down.

I have a theory...

Here is the problem...Community. We have very little of this connection any more. We drop our kids off at school and then rush to work. We punch the proverbial clock in and out and then rush back home. We may swing by the grocery store and pick up dinner. Heads buried in our grocery lists. Concerned mainly with the little 'ol lady that has parked her cart in the middle of aisle nine. With a huff we swerve around her b'lining it to check stand number "shortest line." Paper or plastic has replaced, "Hi, how are you doing?" And off we go. We race through the parking lot to get back to the safety of home. Our phones and computers become our connection. A text instead of a phone call of course. We couldnt' possibly be interrupted in the middle of doing nothing. 

Life Experiment

I've spent the better part of the last year determining what is truly important to me. Private school or public? Work or stay-at-home mom? Church or web cast? Book club or independent writing? I longed to be happy. Less stressed. More fulfilled and worthy of the air I breathed. I began to volunteer. I nurtured the relationships I had instead of always feeling the need to be everyone's friend. I made it a point to make it to meetings I had committed to and I stopped multitasking while parenting. I started shopping at my locally owned grocery store and produce stand. And you know what I realized? I longed for community. I was less defensive and more open to others opinions. I saw more communication in these stores. More eye contact and certainly more smiles. Yes, there is still the grumpy shopper that wants to be left alone, but I noticed a difference in my demeanor.

Now don't go getting all worked up thinking I am asking you to never shop at...we will refer to them as Priceco and Not-a-Ceiling-Nor-A-DoorMart. I certainly couldn't be expected to buy my toilet paper at grocery store prices. But here is what you can do to make little changes where you are and where you shop, live and work.

Those people in aisle 21 buying spaghetti sauce in bulk and blocking the way for anyone to pass with their four children live in your community. Or as least near your community. The next time you are tempted to storm past them in a huff because you are in a hurry to go no where fast, stop and acknowledged they exist. Say excuse me to the children because however short they may be, they can still hear and learn from your behavior. Smile at the mother or father who will now go home to make their little ones spaghetti for dinner. The guy at your office that seemed to always have an angry chip on his shoulder and has a bumper sticker stating he votes for the elephant, donkey or Earth. You have a rainbow and he has a thunder cloud. You two couldn't possibly be more different or from different communities, right?! And yet you both work in the same building. Shop at the same grocery store and oddly enough attend the same church! How can this be. You have such different views and yet we find connection and community where we thought it couldn't exist.

We are in this together and once we realize that we all have worries, cares, fears, inconveniences, hurried days, wants, joys, hurts, hopes and dreams it will be much easier to have patience, kindness, greetings, smiles and honesty to share.

Goodbye

Good bye is never easy. In fact, it is so difficult, people will refuse to let go, move on and aim high even when it is the best decision. They stay right where they are, in the safety of here. Here is a great place to be if it is getting you to there. But if here is keeping your here. Holding you back. Here is no place to stay.

Take a walk with me. 

We are born, we grow up and many of us learn how to move on and let go. We fearfully take those steps from the safety grip of the couch and allow ourselves to fly, sometimes literally. Watch a child as their mother walks into the other room. If you think you have trouble with good-bye you can rest assured your tears and sobs can never amount to the fit a two year old can throw as his mother goes to change a load of laundry. We say goodbye to our parents as we journey to our first day of school. We grow up, move out, say good-bye. Get married. Say goodbye. Leave for college. Say good-bye. Take that job in another city. We say good-bye. We have so much practice saying goodbye you would think we would be experts. 

What's holding you back?

No matter what it is that is holding you back from goodbye. It may be time for you to hold tight to the reigns of life and choose your goodbye. Many of us can't even change our phone numbers without anxiety. You would think our phone number is what defines who we are. "So I am able to save $110 on my cell phone bill and get better reception? All I have to do is get a new phone number? Absolutely NOT! That's ridiculous! How would anyone get a hold of me. How would anyone ever find me. I wouldn't exist any longer!" Don't get your panties in a bunch! I'm not asking you to change your phone number. Although some of you should. 

Good gets better. 

And yet there are times when you are faced with saying goodbye to good to seek out better. It is when we are willing to let go of comfortable, safe and secure and embrace risk that we will forge the greatest growth. 

Goodbye is more often than not the greatest hello to our future self!

“Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.” 
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

Imagine All The People....

Is imagination more important knowledge? Albert Einstein's reply: "I'm enough of an artist to draw freely on my imagination, which I think is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world." 

When we are young we are encouraged to use our imagination. We are asked to draw, paint, write and play however we are moved. No matter the story we tell we are praised for using our imagination. And then it happens. We grow up. We learn there is no Santa Claus. We learn the princess in the castle doesn't really exist. We learn that GI Joes don't always make it out of siege from under the couch. The sky isn't always blue and the grass isn't always greener in our reality. Imagination is looked upon as an illness. Box it. Bag it. But certainly don't encourage it. 

Imagination is what spurs us to create and to strive for better. We use it to create businesses, build buildings, write stories, and for those of you with children, parent. We become brilliant when we use our imagination. Without it Columbus would never have set out to sail the seven seas. Our tallest skyscrapers would remain three stories high. We would never have looked across the river and imagined a bridge to get us there. We wouldn't have taken to flight. We would be flat, grounded, stuck...

In The Clouds

If imagination is the gas to get us to our hopes and dreams. Knowledge is the vehicle that will carry us there. We can only spend so much time in the skies before we make our way down to Earth and hit the floor running. When I was a child I'm sure my father hoped for me to one day marry a doctor or a lawyer. Anything but a musician or a poet. Certainly not an artist unless it was just a hobby. Imagination is for hobbies. Knowledge is for the work force. I would argue that without both we would have no work force. Those with the greatest imaginations take the greatest risks. And quite frankly those with the most knowledge are often times to fearful to allow their feet to leave the comfort of the ground in which to fly. However they are also the ones that make imagination reality. 

So whether you were the straight A student or the artist. Whether you spend your time on Wikipedia or Pinterest. We need each other. We need those with  over active imaginations that allow us to dream big. And we need those with so much, even too much knowledge that it hurts. 

Aim for the clouds and hit the floor running....


Albert Einstein: dropped out of secondary school, failed his exams in college, had a child out of wedlock, divorced in 1919, married his first cousin. And yet he is known for E=MC^2, the Theory of Relativity and his acceptance of the Nobel Prize in Physics. Do not let life's circumstances define you.

We...

Life is precious! Life is sweet! How quickly we forget. We spend day after day bombarding our bodies with chemicals, unhealthy foods, sun damage, cleaners, exhaust, and stress. We heal and we begin all over again. It is an endless cycle and we hedge our bets every day hoping we aren't the one who draws the short stick on life. Some of us live with the notion, we are all born with a set of predestined days. Others feel they will ride life hard and live it to the fullest. After all no one is telling them how to live.

THE REALITY

I spent the better part of Wednesday with a friend at her chemotherapy treatment. 29 years old. Mother of three. Wife to a hard working police officer. Graceful. Beautiful: inside and out. Patient and kind. And yet facing a battle with cancer. She sat smiling while we waited for her treatments to begin. No one was going to extinguish her light. I sat, healthy...inherently so at least, wondering how we can take life for granted. None of us expect to be the one on the other side of the chemo window. Looking out at the world as they run around getting things done. Enjoying their health for another day. If they could only hear the hollers, warning them to act. Urging them to change the path they are on. Quietly hoping they will fight for the bodies they are given, because they aren't promised tomorrow.

GROWING UP

We learned at a very young age how important our health is. We learned that physical education is important and that eating healthy foods help us to grow up healthy and strong. And yet as we age we also realize that we get to make the decisions on what we eat and what we do. Sadly, we know that sugar tastes better than veggies and exercise is so much more work that watching tv. We work hard at our jobs and reward ourselves with sweet treats and we watch tv as if we are the ones determining who will be getting the Emmy Awards this year.  (Don't get all excited, those of you that prefer salty and fatty foods and movie watching. You aren't off the hook.) Life is hard. Being healthy is even harder. I get it. I do. However, every choice we make gets us closer or farther away from our goals. So the next time you are staring a doughnut down wondering if it really matters. Ask yourself. Does this get me closer to or farther away from my goal? And if you goal is to become a professional doughnut eater you may want to grab two. However, if you goal is to be healthier, happier, and full of life. Forgo the doughnut. Grab an apple and heck maybe this time grab one that isn't sprayed with chemicals. Call it what you want. Stamp it with whatever sticker you choose, but for the love, just this once make a better decision than you did yesterday. Your future self will thank you.

WE...

We wake, we eat, we play we sleep.
We have so many appointments we have to keep.
We wish we had more hours in our day.
We don't care how we get them, we are willing to pay.
We strive to earn more, many would confess.
We demand for our food, that we spend less.
We him and ha, struggle and grapple.
We couldn't possibly spend more for an apple.
We close our eyes and hope for the best.
We have so much to do, our health is such a pest.
We buy another pill and order another coffee.
We refuse to simply listen to our bodies.
Sometimes its not fair the cards in our hand
And sometimes it doesn't matter what we had planned.
There will always be something to do.
And you'll always want to buy one and get two
It just doesn't matter how much you spend
If it gets you farther away from 'the end'. 


My favorite things in life don't cost any money. It's really clear that the most precious resource we all have is time.
Steve Jobs 

Time and health are two precious assets that we don't recognize and appreciate until they have been depleted.
Denis Waitley 

Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide.
Napoleon Bonaparte 

Good Tidings, Cheer and Decaf Coffee

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Holidays, Happy Kwanza!
 I am certain I have equally offended everyone with one simple sentence. When did it happen that spreading good tidings and cheer became rude. When did smiling and greeting your fellow brother or sister become a colossal slap in the face. When I was young I knew that if and when I flipped someone off, I was conveying exactly what I wanted. I knew they would be irritated, angry and insulted. I, however, could never be prepared for the shock brought to me in my adult years. I was prepared this year. I had my tree up early, I had presents purchased, I wrapped the....well no, I married the man who would ultimately wrap the presents, I had planned for Christmas! What I had not planned for was the social media backlash and extraordinarily pissed off woman who informed me I could take my Merry Christmas and put it where the sun doesn't shine. I'm not certain that is possible...I looked around for a second wondering quite frankly who had crapped in her Cornflakes that morning. I also was looking for something that must have offended her. I checked my shirt to see if it said something offensive. Nothing. I didn't get it. I am a Christian,yes, but I am not offended if you wish me a Happy Holidays, or a Happy Hanukkah. Heck, you can even wish me a Happy Hump Day. However, I will certainly wonder about your sanity for choosing to use the word hump in a public greeting. But, to each is own. We may not agree with each other. We may not like what others think, believe, speak, want, don't want, give or take. What we can agree on is there is a lot of unnecessary anger in this world. So as New Year's Eve approaches lets try to choose a New Year's Resolution that is worth abiding. I will not read into what people are saying to me. I will accept a greeting as a greeting. I will accept a middle finger waving from the driver behind me and know that he must be an angry person and it can't possibly mean I'm driving like a lunatic. And most importantly I will accept when I ask my husband if a dress makes me look fat and he replies with "Well, maybe a little."I'm sure this is his way of telling me he has no fashion sense or sense all for that matter.

I will give you a few examples you can work from since I know you are sitting there thinking, "I don't know what she is talking about. I don't read into what people are saying." For instance, when your local sales clerk greets you with a "Can I help you find anything?", you should respond with a "Thanks but I've got it covered. " What you should not respond with is "Back off! I'm not here to shop! I am simply in this department store to look around at these items that are strangely being sold, but I don't want to buy anything!" And when you visit your coffee shop and the guy behind the counter asks if you would like a pastry with your coffee. He isn't asking you to open up your wallet and give him all of your cash. Well lets hope that's not what he's asking you. A simple, "No thank you. But, I would like room in my coffee." will suffice.

Manners, greetings, good tidings and cheer! These are the things I would like to see this year....And if not, then you deserve the decaf coffee.

Heartbreak Hill is Sometimes Heartbreaking

At the Portland Half Marathon
for race pace training.

After six months of training I was prepared to take my chances at qualifying for the BOSTON MARATHON. The California International Marathon in Sacramento, California was my first hope to qualify. It was going to be great! I was promised down hill, great weather and a awesome hotel to rest my weary head when it was all over. My reality did not line up with these promises!

I kept the finish line in my sights all weekend.

Thirty weeks of training, hundreds of miles logged on rolling hills, 2 half marathon races and a grueling Hood to Coast completed, proper nourishment and hydration, countless books and magazines read. I was ready...kinda.I grew up in sub zero degree weather. I walked to school uphill both ways in the freezing cold and pouring snow. However, nothing could have prepared me for 26.2 miles at 20 degrees...above zero. I realize 20 degrees would have been likened to a heat wave. I assure you 20 degrees is quite certainly in no means a heat wave. At the start line 9900 of us huddled to keep warm. I do not hug total stranger by nature, however I found myself clinging to runners around me trying with all of my might to rob them of their body heat. (Okay, that didn't really happen.) 5, 4, 3, 2...the horn blares signaling commencement of the race. And off my ice blocks ran!

I had my strategy. Follow the pace leader for the 3:35 group. Hold on for dear life and hope my legs hold out. As the horn sounded I took off like a....what did the fox say??? 8:12 pace Kristen. This is a long race. Hold back and get comfortable. HA! Comfortable?! Yes I thought that very word and still find it slightly comical. Mile one....it's all downhill. Literally, mile one was entirely downhill and although starting off in a dead sprint seems like a good idea (I considered it) I assure you it is not. I zipped past porta potties at mile two thinking, "If you have to use a porta potty at mile two this is going to be a very long race for you." I cried at mile three thinking I may just be able to do this. I helped a fallen runner at mile five after slipping on ice at an aid station. Quite frankly running past anyone who has fallen just seems like poor sportsmanship. I sang out loud, oh yes out loud, at mile 7 and 8. What can I say? Kelly Clarkson and One Republic motivate me. I'm sure they will be calling for me to become one of their back up singers.

On our way!

At mile ten my calves started to cramp from the cold and those blasted rolling hills (all downhill my ass.) My fingers began to refreeze at mile 12 as I downed orange slices that were a better idea than they were a reality. At mile 13.1 I thought. "Kristen, just imagine your car broke down and running is the only way you'll get home." I quickly realized that running was the only way I was getting home. Mile 15! Where did that hill come from and do I have to use those porta potties? It can wait. Electrolytes? Check! Mile 17, I'm doing pretty good. On my first marathon this is the mile I crumbled and the mile I feared the most. Made it to 18 with flying colors. The fatigue was setting in. Fuel blocks in and powering on. Miles 18,19,20 I held steady, but celebrated at 20. 6.2 miles to go. Who can't run a 10K? Don't answer that. I spent my youth running six miles. It was my go to workout. I've got this! Then it happened. Mile 21.5! Where the hell are the porta potties when you need them?! By the grace of God I looked up from the two foot in front of me view I had been holding. 100 yards in front of me was my shining blue beacon of hope. I sprinted a 100 yard dash that would make Carl Lewis proud. (go ahead and Google him. I will wait right here.) 21.5-22 all uphill. Why when land is being blasted they couldn't have used an extra stick of dynamite is beyond me. 22-24 I felt my hopes of Boston slipping away. Holding an 8:12 pace, I dug deep. I pushed and pulled my frozen block legs through every step, but no matter how hard I tried my pace kept slipping farther away....8:13, 8:14, 8:15, miles 25-26 8:17, 8:18. An extra Gu as I felt my legs trembling, my teeth chattering, my head spinning and my heart drop. No time for tears. I had .2 miles to go and no matter what that clock said I was not going to walk. I was not going to cry. I fought my battle. I held strong. I came to terms with the fact that we do not live in a Hollywood movie where the endings are always happy and dreams and dedications always come true. And sometimes the greatest reward is in the journey and not in the outcome. I sat and wept at the finish line. I had tried with all I had and by all numerical accounts, had failed. I thought little of the 18 minutes I had shaved off of my last marathon. I forgot about my triumph sailing through mile 17. The hill at mile 21 I had conquered was a distant memory. I focused too hard on not meeting my goal that I had little time to enjoy my triumphs. How often in life do we do this?

Have you forgotten to high five yourself for your little triumphs? Have you focused too much on your goal that you have forgotten to enjoy the journey. Take a moment every so often to write down your accomplishments, however small, they are still accomplishments. Trust me on this one...there will ALWAYS be someone better than you. You will always think you could have done better. This isn't the point of life. Be great in each moment and live triumphantly.

If the Shoe Fits

Squish, shove, pinch, suck in, twist...Uhg! We've been there. Well, most of us have. You may know what I'm talking about and if you don't well, God bless you! I'm talking about buying an article of clothing one and sometimes two sizes too small just to say we wear a smaller size.  Let me enlighten you on a well known secret we are all keeping from each other. No matter what size you squeeze yourself into, it doesn't actually make you smaller. Just like buying scales until they say what you want them to say doesn't make you lighter. (Don't judge. I haven't actually done this, but I've thought about it.)

I too am guilty. Let me explain. I am a runner. Always have been and most certainly always will be. Lord willing. I began my running career (Can I call it that? I'm not actually paid to run.) in the seventh grade. I thought for certain I would surely DIE while running a mile. My heart should not beat this fast and the pain I had in my side was most certainly a knife. I survived. I'm sure you are all breathing a sigh of relief. I continued to run and finally I was initiated into the club! What club you may ask? The ugly running shoe club. I knew I had crammed my feet into a size 8 at one point so surely I wear a size eight running shoe. Years of blisters and foot pain and three babies (your feet grow, uhhhh,your arches fall when you are pregnant) later I had worked myself up to buy a size 9 and that was with extreme begrudging. So, as I found myself staring Paul, at said local running store, square in the eye as he tried to hand me clown shoes I about lost it. What on earth do you mean I am a 9 1/2 WIDE?! I have not signed up for an event at the circus! There is no way I am wearing clown shoes to run. This is not happening. I explained to myself that it is better to have wide shoes than a wide hind end. Maybe.... So, during my evening run in my clown shoes I realized something.  I loved having room! My toes could practically do jumping jacks! There was not pain shooting up the side of my foot and at one point I was cognizant of my breathing and not how to strike my foot to cause the least amount of pain.

Okay, I know what your thinking. "Who cares, Kristen!!?? I don't run and even if I were to start I'm not sure I would care what size shoe I wore. " Noted. However, if you lived through the seventies you lied on your bed and zipped your bell-bottom jeans zipper up with a hanger. You may have even done a funny duck walk if you lived through the eighties trying to stretch out your non-stretch pants. Don't get me started on the nineties. Bike shorts were in and if you still have a pair and don't actually ride a bike I have the number to your local Salvation Army. Lets move on. Okay, I got side tracked. The nineties gets a pass. That is the only decade where we retaliated and wore clothes that were too big for us. Thus comes 2000! Good night! This decade gives rise to muffin tops and on people who clearly should not actually have muffin tops. Where are our friends when we are walking around in clothing that is clearly too tight. I can't see my butt and I think these pants may be too tight. One, because I can't breathe in or out and two because I can't bend my legs at my hips and knees. But sometimes I need a friend to take me aside and let me know that I shouldn't worry about if there are pantie lines on my jeans when people can actually see the print on my underpants though these too tight jeans. We all need a personal shopper or a good tell it to you straight friend. I'm telling you we could fix most of the problems in this world if we actually bought clothes in our size. We would have much more circulation working towards our brains. If you are hung up on a size you wore in high school and high five all of your buddies or best girl friends, let me enlighten you. They may not actually look like they did when you wore them in high school.

Embrace it! Wear your size. No matter what size that is. Wear it. Feel better. Live better and spend less time wanting to scream obscenities because your pants, shirt, shoes, bra, underpants, you name it, are too tight.

P.S. Those of you who wear clothing that is too big. You aren't getting a pass. You aren't fooling any one! Take off your husbands too big t-shirt and find a top that hugs a little closer to your body. I PROMISE you, you will automatically look like you lost 20 lbs. PROMISE! Pst. Gentlemen...your jeans are too short. Yes, they are. I don't care where they are actually supposed to hit. If most of American calls them high waters and you can walk through puddles in your Tevas without getting your pants wet, then they are too short.