Katie's Fun Facts for the Day:

1. I feel really uncomfortable around mascots of any kind. I don't like the idea that any old person could be running around high-fiving the fans or promoting tooth care like this guy in the picture. I just don't imagine too many nice and normal people willing to spend their afternoons in a sweaty suit dragging around little children and performing stunts on command. My default hypothesis is that Wanda Barzee is in the suit just waiting until nobody's watching so she can snatch me up and take me home to good old Brian David. My other guess is that there is a kidnapped teenage girl in there with her mouth duct taped shut doing all those weird flips and stuff as a secret signal to set her free. Which do I pick? Do I rip the head off and release the poor girl to her freedom, or do I wrestle the thing to the ground and call the police to let them know those two crazies have escaped?

I usually choose to avoid the whole situation entirely in order to bypass the moral dilemma.

(which is why I look so uncomfortable in this picture)

2. My brother plays keyboard for a cover band called "Straight Monday" (this as opposed to gay tuesday). This is him playing at their Katie Perry cover party. I just thought you should know that while I hate Katie Perry, I willingly went to this party in support of my brother. Let this be a lesson to you kids, that sacrifices must be made in the name of family. Yes, yes, even when it involves Katie Perry music. 3. I am currently conducting a week-long experiment during which I am listening only to instrumental and/or religious music, not watching TV or movies, and staying away from facebook. It's not like I think music, TV, movies or facebook are bad things, by any means. I just want to see if I notice a difference in my life by removing the ideas of the media, hollywood, musicians and my peers who I am less connected to and just focusing on what I see as important and wholesome in my life. I am going to attempt to switch my focus to the people around me and what they need. You are welcome to join me or even start your own week-long quest. If you do, I'd like to hear about it.

4. I am currently writing this post from my secret spot in the HBLL. This is my fourth year at this university and I have yet to be discovered. This is not a challenge to come find me. In fact, please don't, I need my quiet to study for the huge Shakespeare test I have to take by 10 p.m. tonight. However, being down here DOES remind me of a funny story:
It was my sophomore year in college and I had an hour break between classes so I decided to head to my secret spot to take a quick power-nap. I got to my spot, spread out with my head on my backpack and my jacket as a blanket, set my alarm on my phone and fell asleep (I can sleep anywhere, at any time.) I woke up a little groggy and started to pack up when I suddenly realized that there was a boy sleeping next to me! And I'm not talking about in the same general area. There literally was about three feet TOPS between us. This didn't seem as weird as it really should have to me until about ten minutes later when I was fully awake and it dawned on me that I had just spent the last hour sleeping next to some strange man in a secluded corner of the library. I shrugged it off mostly because there was nothing I could do about it then, but I avoided napping there for the next few weeks.


Weirder things have happened? Probably not.

Katie

Wanted:

I just hate it when I can go three days without charging my phone.

I swear I have enough friends to use up my battery.

Just none of them call me... Or text me... Or talk to me...

I don't have any friends.

As I was driving home tonight from working five hours in the rain with a terrible cold (unnecessary details I added so that you could feel super bad for me) I thought about why this is, and I think I figured it out.

I don't know any of the "cool kid" music these days.

And by "cool kid" music I mean rap/hip-hop.

And by rap/hip-hop I mean I hate it.

So, rather than try and force myself into submerging into an entire music genre that gives me the same feeling in my stomach as I get when I burp and hiccup at the same time (unexpectedly painful), I decided to try and convince everyone that I am right, in hopes of gaining some friends back along the way.

The start of this whole process went like this:

My roommate Jessica Esplin (there are two Jessicas so I had to clarify on the last name, don't stalk her) and her boyfriend Brady walk in.

(Visual Aid: Picture of them on their trip to Paris. I mean Vegas. Never fools anyone.)

Me: Hey Jessica. You know that song with the airplanes and the shooting stars?

Jessica: Yes, I love that song.

Me: Do you know what it's called?

Jessica: No....Do you Brady?

Brady: No.

Me: Can you name a line from it?

Jessica: No...can you Brady?

Brady: No.

Me: I hate this project. I'll never have friends.

So after a thorough search of the internet typing various things into the search box such as "songs to make me more gangster"(don't exist) and "songs sung by a really promiscuous black girl with the token sex-rap in the middle" I realized that I don't know the name to any other hip hop songs either and that ended that.

I guess I'll have to make friends the old-fashioned way: World of Warcraft.

(Jokes on you, I don't know how to play videogames)

What I really mean is, you guys are just going to have to accept me for who I am, even with my lack of knowledge concerning pop culture.

I expect at least nine texts and three party invites tonight.

Ready...go.

Katie

p.s.- If you were wondering, that song is called "Airplanes." Clever.

Ich bin Krank.

For all you non-deutsch speakers that title means "I am sick."

Which I am.

This usually happens at the beginning of every summer and the beginning of every fall, I get sick with the season changes, providing yet another example of how incredibly poor I am at handling change.

I have also spent the week missing Germany.

I think the main logic behind this is that living in another country automatically makes whatever problems are happening over here more a funny joke than anything.

I distinctly remember sitting on my bed in my apartment in downtown Berlin and getting on facebook to read messages of drama and problems from home and just...laughing.

That's way rude.

I should never admit that on my blog.

But, if anyone is offended by that I hope you will take a minute and think about how enticing it sounds to be buried in a large city in another country and just laughing at all of life's problems.

(This was my bed in Berlin. I promise it wasn't usually this messy, this is just from me packing up. If anyone from BYU computer rentals is reading this...no I did not take a school issued computer all the way to Europe with me. uh....)

I think the best day of all of them was the day Nick and I went to Wansee and spent the day on the beach. Almost all of our friends had left for the weekend and we didn't really tell anyone else our plans. Laying on one of the prettiest beaches I've ever been to, soaking in the warm sun and the quiet that comes from not being in a city, in a corner of the world where nobody knows where you are so nobody can come to bother you...

...Leaving the country is definitely not the solution, but boy did it feel like it.

Take me back.

Katie

Today I am a skeptic.

It was one of those days.
I am lucky enough that nearly all my days are happy and stimulating and progressive,
but today was full of digression and stagnancy.
I find myself forgetting that its okay to have days like this.
That sometimes its okay to bask in the fact that life is hard.

A boy from the neighborhood I grew up in got struck by lightning today standing right outside of my high school. I watched the news clips when I got home from work tonight and they kept showing pictures of the tree he was standing by.
I have stood by that tree.
I have spent a thousand afternoon minutes standing in its shade,
but the lighting didn't strike me.

I guess that is the way life works.
Sometimes the lightning strikes us, and sometimes it is the next guy.
Though, for all my metaphors, nothing will change the fact that the boy was burned and this is the thought that has risen above all my personal problems today.
We can't change the terribly difficult things that happen to us but we can be a friend to the ones who are going through it as well, and we can contribute to the good that is in the world.
Keep a boy named Alex Lambson in your prayers.
Then, find yourself a reason to smile.
Here's mine:


My family is my happy thought, my faith is my strength.
Life is good, even when it's bad.
Katie

The thing about a Marathon is...

...that the first guy to run one died as he finished. What I really want to know is, who in the world was the first person to say "hey. that killed him. I think I'll give that a try."

I woke up sick today, more than likely a product of the heat exhaustion and overall torture of my body Saturday.
I spent the day on my couch and had a lot of time to think about how I actually felt during the marathon, and I've also had a lot of time to read blogs of people who also ran the marathon Saturday.
There seemed to be a consensus among bloggers and other people I've talked to about the race and it is this:
Somewhere around mile 18 life got really tough.

And that, without question, was the case for me.
Up until that point I felt awesome. I even remember thinking:
"I don't know what everyone is talking about. This is embarrassingly low-key."

This is a laughable thought when compared to what I was thinking around mile 23, which was:
"I will give birth to 1,000 children while simultaneously ripping my fingernails out with those floss needles they give you when you get braces so you can floss between the wires before I run another mile of this awful race."

You may think that last statement was a little graphic when in reality it is the severely edited version from what I was really thinking.
Pain. A lot. of. pain.

I spent mile 18 and 19 yelling at myself, in my head, to keep going. This had a limited affect because it had gotten so hot that even my mental arguments had become delirious, which is why it was a miracle when I ran past my friend Cheryl Yip who just so happened to also be running the marathon.
For the next 7 miles I got yelled at in her little Singaporean voice (because she's from Singapore so she speaks Singaporie, a language offered at select high schools in central California where there is a large concentration of Singapites) which was exponentially more encouraging considering the fact that the voice in my own head had drifted more to the "quit now and go buy a Dr. Pepper" side of things.

I (literally) ran into quite a few people I knew throughout the course of the race, which was kind of weird. I'd like to think that seeing people on the course of a marathon is pretty similar to what it would be like to be in Hades' big river of dead souls that always freaked (freaks?) me out when I watched (watch?) Hercules.
You're all just floating along the same downward spiral and you can chat and make jokes and compare Ipods or whatever but when it really comes down to it, you're all just on a direct route to hell.

Okay, okay, so I'm making this sound terrible. The unfair thing about marathons is that the worst part is at the end.
In reality, I could go on forever about how inspiring it was to stand on the starting line with 7,500 other people who have been training for months for that very moment. Or how beautiful it was to see the sun rise over the red mountains I love so much. Or how much I appreciate the volunteers who handed out gatorade, water, and oranges and who icy-hotted my legs at every single aid station the second half of the race.

And the finish line. I am NOT a crier, but I did come awfully close. If it hadn't have been for the thousands of strangers standing there watching I probably would have lost it right there.
What an emotionally transcendent experience to push your body to the ultimate limits like that.
Approaching that finish line, I turned to Cheryl and said,
"Cheryl............we ran a marathon."
And we high-fived as we crossed.
Because nothing says "I've been to hell and back" quite like slapping palms with a Singapite.
You're the best Cheryl. :) Thanks for getting me through it.

Katie

26.2 miles later...

Done.

And goodness gracious was it difficult.

I don't mean to make such a big deal out of this. I know lots of people run marathons and even if you haven't its easy to imagine how hard they would be. That's what you'd think right?

But you're wrong. Whatever you're imagining, its 1,000 times harder. Especially when you run your last seven miles in 96 degree weather.

Here's a quick recap and a few pictures. There are more and better pictures to come later. My dad got some good ones, as did Erin I think.

So going to bed last night at 8 was a bust. I ended up laying in bed until around 10:30, then just getting up and watching about 40 minutes of a movie to try and get tired. The reason I hit the sack so early was so we could make it to the 4 a.m. early bird bus where they give out prizes for people willing to take the earlier shuttles.

If there is one thing you should know about me it's that a lifelong dream of mine is to win a free ipod. I mean...everyone wins free ipods. Every time I even bring up this ambition of mine someone says "oh, I won my Ipod at blahblahblah" which is nothing but infuriating for us non-ipod winners. Last year I even went as far as to set up a separate e-mail account just for entering sweepstakes and entered four online ipod drawings a day for about two weeks before I forgot about it because Lost started back up again.

So, as luck would have it, the main giveaways they were doing on the early-bird bus was for...ipods! We got up. We got to the buses on time. We were feeling good. And then, I looked down...and realized I had forgotten my race number. And I had no cell phone. And no gas in my car. Or a wallet. Of course.

I ended up borrowing someone's cell phone and calling my mom like a whiney little girl. I also had to wait around for her to bring it meaning I missed the early bird bus and the prize of my dreams. The best part was the first thing she said when I called and told her my predicament:

"Goshdangit Rachel...you are always doing stuff like this!"

"uh mom...this is Katie."

She then sighed the sigh of a mother who has not ONE completely ridiculous and irresponsible daughter, but TWO. Sorry mom. Life is hard.

I want to save the details of the race for when I have some better pictures. Also I have been slowly dying on my couch all day and will probably drop dead if I try and think any harder about writing anything. Just know that I finished. And it was really hard. And I didn't win a free Ipod.

Foiled again by my own absurdity.

On the bright side, the experience was beautiful.

In its own I-wish-I-were-dead kind of way.

I am a marathon finisher.

Katie

What an experience to run with 7,500 motivated and committed people.

The best part.

Earliest I've gone to bed since...ever.

In almost exactly 11 hours from now I will be starting my first marathon.

Today consisted of sleeping in, quick mile and a half run, lunch with my long lost Erin, a tour of the marathon expo, driving the course (for mental preparation of course), family pictures, a large and delicious pasta dinner, and an 8:00 bedtime (meaning right now!).

Who knows if I will be able to sleep with all the nerves and excitement???

Scary thought: I have two blisters on my heel that should have been healed by now but aren't.

Exciting thought: It's almost over!

Boy oh boy.

It's gonna be crazy.

Wish me luck!

I knew I should have started being nicer. I'm really gonna need to good karma tomorrow.

Katie