Getting Real About Goals

I have some amazing friends with amazing careers. Among them:

• Assistant professor at a Big 12 university
• Former press secretary for a senator and aircraft manufacturer communications professional
• Former communications staffer for a national livestock organization
• Waterpark marketing director
• The Chicago lawyer, recruiter, financial analyst and CPA (4 family members)
• Small business owners
• Master's of theology students
• Vegas event and wedding planner

Of course, this is just a short list, as I could go on and on and on and ... But wow. These folks are not only fantastic people, but they're very accomplished professionals.

Even though I love them all so much and I'm extremely proud of all that they have achieved, it's easy to let myself become intimidated by their greatness. After all, I've barely strayed an hour from my hometown -- especially in comparison to these folks. During my job hunt, I became even more painfully aware that my decision to enjoy the perks of a more rural and small-town life has definitely been at the expense of far more limited career choices. It's been quite a challenge to sift through the available positions for ones that even slightly match up with my goals. I'm lucky to have finally found one.

Living here was a decision Cody and I made together, and we're usually quite confident that we're in the right place. But sometimes it's hard to deal with the emotions I experience when I hear about the wonderful things my friends are doing. I used to think it was jealousy, but when I consider how much I love these people, I know that's not the case. It's more like a yearning to achieve my own goals, maybe even an inspiration ... I so easily forget that they can be accomplished right here, right now.

It's been so tempting to identify success as having an important-sounding title and living in some kind of exciting location. I've often fretted about not being as "successful" as my friends and peers, simply because I'm in normal old Manhattan and I haven't felt that my positions were all that important. I know that's totally untrue, but sometimes these thoughts just invade my mind and I can't shake them. I throw myself a little pity party. Which gets me where? Nowhere.

It's a real task to remind myself that these were my choices, and the choices my friends have made are theirs. By choosing to stay in one location, I made the decision to narrow my choices from the whole wide world of careers. After all, if a fancy title in a fun city was what I felt was truly important in life, I could definitely make that happen. But what little wisdom I do have tells me that even though it's enticing, it won't bring me true happiness.

Even though I mope sometimes, I have friends who would kill to be in my shoes -- working on campus, living in the beautiful hills outside of Manhattan, close to family and home, married to a wonderful man with the most infectious sense of humor, two wonderful dogs, the list goes on and on. Man, I've sure got it good. I'm so thankful for that when I can actually clear my head to soak it all in.

I think what it really comes down to is not being very clear about my goals -- because in all actuality, I've achieved so many of them so far. They may be a little different than I envisioned when I graduated from K-State, as there have been plenty of detours and potholes along the way. But there's a huge lesson of balance to be learned here. I haven't mastered it, but I'm working on it.

I don't need to get a "better" job or move away to be successful. I can be successful right here, right now. Sometimes, I recognize that I already am.

Kudos to all my friends who have pursued their dreams! I'm so incredibly proud of you and you inspire me!

P.E. and People Watching

On Saturday, we sat in the nosebleed section to cheer on the Wildcats. As a very uneventful game unfolded far below us, I engaged in one of my favorite hobbies – people watching. I silently surveyed the population, examining characters of all shapes and sizes. Sometimes I compared myself, other times I whispered comically to my husband. Sometimes I just sat in sheer awe.

In this instance, two individuals stick in my mind.

One was an obese, older woman, who festively donned a set of purple mardi gras beads over a white tank top and faux jean shorts (despite the fact that everyone else had jackets and jeans on). It would be an understatement to say that her body oozed out of the armholes in the shirt and bottom of her shorts. I watched her labor up the steps in the upper level of Bill Snyder Family Stadium, stopping about every two steps to rest in all her doughy glory.

The other individual made me supremely sad, even a bit angry. It was a young boy, maybe around age 7 or 8. He was about as round as he was tall. He, too, stopped every few steps to rest as he trekked up the stadium stairs. As he passed us in row 20, he was completely out of breath, panting as loud as Lucy, my Labrador.

What a shame! The older woman has had years to reach her current state (and should know better), while this child has become obese in just a few short years of life (and probably doesn't have a clue). Sure, it was a long way up there, but shouldn’t we all be in adequate shape to walk a short distance or climb a few stairs?

I don’t have any idea what physical education standards are today in schools, but now I’m really curious. I ran a mile and a half yesterday at the Rec, and it later occurred to me that it was the farthest I’ve EVER run. A mile was the most we ever did in P.E., and I remember having a feeling of uneasiness and wanting to hide in the locker room those days. Most days it was just a quarter-mile on the track or a few laps around the tiny old high school gym. The last time I was in P.E. was 1997. So in 13 years, has anything changed? I sure hope so.

The CDC estimates that 17 percent of kids between ages 2 and 19 are obese (2008). That’s not just “overweight,” that’s a BMI at or above the 95^th percentile for kids of the same age and gender. Yikes!  

And adults … well, we’re embarrassingly worse. According to the CDC’s 2009 data, between 26 and 27 percent of Riley County is obese. As a state, more than 28 percent of Kansans are obese, and we’re the 19^th fattest state in the nation. (Of the top 20, more than half are southern states.) In fact, one in three Americans is considered obese and another one in three is overweight. That means for every three people you meet, only one is not packing around extra pounds (CDC, 2008).

People, this is a problem. The elephant in the room is us – the 68% of Americans who are fat, or worse, blimps. And that’s being nice. I’ll write more on this later, but for now, let’s get moving!  

Halloweekend Fail

We had an awesome Halloweekend, filled with friends, football and fun. Unfortunately it was also filled with fat. Lots of it.

In my mimosa-induced delusion, I devoured an unquantifiable amount of a concoction we began affectionately referring to as “man dip,” named for one of the husbands who made it. It was a sinful creation of sour cream and cream cheese, topped with taco sauce, cheddar cheese and bacon. As odd as it sounds, it was delightful … and addicting. And gosh darn it, I just needed one more bite. Just one more. I promise this will be the last. Then another. Then another empty promise. And so on.

So, the next day, I calculated up my Weight Watchers points, knowing full well that the number I was about to tally represented an ungodly amount of awfulness. As suspected, it was huge, but I was dismayed to find it was three times my daily points threshold.

Wow. Talk about an epic fail. On top of all of the other calories I consumed, “man dip” put me over the edge. Three days worth of points. THREE.

No wonder Americans are so grotesquely overweight. We turn a blind eye toward our snacking, thinking that because it’s not a “real meal” that it doesn’t really count. We love our food, and we’re downright ignorant about what kind and how much of it we consume. And even when we know it’s bad, sometimes we choose to just ignore it.

I knew the “man dip” was bad. But I ate huge quantities of it anyhow. The word “Willpower” popped into my head several times, but alas, it was of no use. The lady who leads the Weight Watchers meetings in Wamego always says “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels.” My tastebuds beg to differ, but my logical self knows it’s true.