July: Go With The Flow

Up until July, these 40 challenges have been insanely seamless. It’s been magical. Each adventure, each task has fallen seemingly perfectly into place. The start of July was no different.

July started with a quick phone call on a Wednesday to set up a fly fishing trip that following Saturday, on a holiday weekend no less. We journeyed up to above Jamestown and hiked in a ways along the South St. Vrain. We spent a bit setting up the poles and the lines and learning how to cast. After a couple of hours with no luck, the fish were elusive (of course Bryan snagged some right off the bat). Just as we were headed back, I stopped at a hard-to-fish pool and BAM! First time fly fishing, fish caught ✅. 

The next weekend we were up at a 10th mountain division hut above Vail for an off-the-grid weekend with our hut-going friends and all of the kids. Huts are my absolute favorite part of the summer - secluded, quiet, forced relaxation (as much as you can with a gaggle of children). We had puppet shows and running races, sunsets and hammock naps (which felt incredibly lucky because Bryan NEVER naps). 

The big adventure for July was bikepacking the Colorado Trail. Three days, two nights. Three sections: from Monarch Pass to Buena Vista. A group of girls had pieced together gear, child-coverage, and days off work for this epic trip. My friend flew down from Alaska to partake in this journey. The night before we were meant to leave I got an EPIC sore throat - the kind where I went to urgent care hoping it was strep to clear it up faster than a typical nasty summer cold (spoiler: it was a cold) - and the rumblings of an upper respiratory infection. The summer - frankly, probably this whole year - had finally caught up to me. So we skipped the CO trail and instead watched movies on my couch. In one fell swoop, the effortless feeling of all the puzzle pieces clicking together all year dimmed. 

Was I bummed? Yes, absolutely. Was I especially bummed because friends had spent money and time to make this happen with me? Yes, absolutely. Were they incredibly gracious and understanding regardless? Yes, absolutely. 

Frequently in my teens and 20s (and frankly a large part of my 30’s) I would fight the flow of life. I would push hard against the current of life’s momentum, forcing things into the boxes where I thought they “should” be. It was exhausting. Here’s the thing July reminded me - it’s all going to happen exactly the way it’s supposed to happen. Life is easier, more fun when you go with it versus fighting against it. Watch the movies on the couch, drink the tea with honey, and enjoy your time with friends when, where, and how you can because that’s what life is throwing your way. 

Eventually we got to ride (very slowly) my friend’s originally submitted section of the Colorado Trail outside of Leadville, which, turns out, is her favorite section (and hopefully has convinced her to move back to CO!).

The second to last day of the month - after rest and recuperation from my summer cold - closed with an open water swim in Carter Lake. This was the challenge that brought me the most anxiety: drowning is a very real factor, there are no walls to push off of or pool bottoms to touch, no lifeguards, no (semi) heated water. My friend handled my anxiousness like a champ - keeping one eye on me as she was swimming the whole time and being incredibly open and willing to stop to casually tread water when I needed a break. Ultimately, the swimming was perfect - the water smooth and warm(ish), the fish down low, and the wake absent. Turns out, swimming in open water and facing that anxiousness feels an awful lot like leaning into the flow of life. Once I was able to relax and trust that it was all going to work out, it was one of my most enjoyable challenges! I will absolutely be doing that again! 

And with that, August arrived and I found myself at the tail end of this journey with just a few challenges to wrap up. Onward!

Tasks finished this month (for those of you following along on the list): 

Catch a fish in a mountain lake or river

Digital detox for a long weekend

Open water swim

10 out of 12 monthly date nights 

32 out of 50 weekly impact calls

30 of 40 “purple couch” conversations

6 of 40 written memories

3 letters to the kids

June: Feeling of Familiarity

June was anchored by the feeling of familiarity, the deep, nostalgic, chest-warming kind of familiarity. 

We kicked off June with an epic trip to Seattle to sail in the Puget Sound with the whole family. The trip started with a few days with a visit to old friends and neighbors we had pre-kids. Time with them was not on the official list, but we’ve been wanting to travel to see them for some time. These former neighbors shared a wall with Bryan and I during a transformational time in our lives - a first home purchase & remodel, a first dog (for us both), my RA diagnosis, the beginnings of covid, and more. The familiarity of spending time with people with whom you shared door codes, countless dinners, candy cabinets, and life’s triumphs and defeats after some time of being apart is indescribably special. 

The back half of our Seattle week was spent on Bainbridge Island with my best friend, her husband, and their kids. Sailing was added to the list by my best friend’s husband. He grew up in the Pacific Northwest - his family history in the area runs so deep that I fully believe he was drying up out here in the arid Colorado climate so he had to move back. He grew up sailing and has since taken my best friend and their kids on countless adventures, including races!

On this trip I learned that I’m a terrible sailor (being born and raised inland and all). I learned that island life is genuinely slower and more casual. I also learned that our children clicked together just as easily as we all did over 20 years ago in college. I learned that they’ve created a beautiful life in a beautiful place that is filled with love and magic. And most importantly, I learned more of what I already knew - that I love these people in the deepest parts of my being. It’s the kind of love you can feel as a tingle in your chest and a well of tears behind the eyes when you think of them - connections at a heart level extend far beyond the miles that separate us. 

Once I got back home, I jumped straight into the next weekend - a gravel bike race and a day of trail horseback riding. 

I had the honor of joining a dear friend in her first-ever gravel bike race. She did great - it was so fun to watch her have fun! She has recently taken up cycling at this level, so it was incredibly heartwarming to share that part of my world with her. Long ago, before buying houses and getting diagnosed with RA, before puppies and kids, Bryan and I had spent many summers in the mountain bike scene: racing, supporting, but also developing friendships and core memories. Every summer since, when the weather starts to turn warm up high, when the pine trees begin to smell after rain, I find myself daydreaming of the racing season. This race, the expo, the sound of the announcer’s voice on the speakers brought it all back. It's an incredible privilege to have the feeling of coming home; to know a place where you’ve felt joy and belonging enough to feel immense comfort when you return.

Then June was on to horses! My current boss assigned me this task, she didn’t even hesitate when I asked her for her submission to the list. Horses are her passion - she dedicates an incredible amount of time and energy to them. Horses and I have a history - on more than one occasion I’ve been bitten. They are big and have minds and hearts of their own and they absolutely can sense my trepidation. However, this particular adventure was quite magical and these horses changed my mind! (To note: I’m not a “horse girl” now, but I do have a new-found reverence for these animals.) My boss, her trainer, and I took the three horses off trail in South Boulder for a few hours, over rocks and through the grasses. The picturesque Flatiron views absolutely blew my mind the whole time. 

The final weekend in June was a test ride with another one of my best friends with our bike packing gear. Neither of us had ever bike packed and we wanted to make sure we worked out all the kinks before hitting an epic Colorado Trail pack in July. We rode from Gold Hill on what felt like the hottest afternoon of the summer over to the dispersed camping outside of Camp Dick. The bikes did great, our campsite next to the middle St. Vrain creek was peaceful, and the joy was palpable. 

And just like that (ha!), June was over. Onward to July.

Tasks finished this month (for those of you following along on the list): 

Go sailing

Do a gravel bike relay or race

Trail horseback ride

10 out of 12 monthly date nights 

30 out of 50 weekly impact calls

30 of 40 “purple couch” conversations

5 of 40 written memories

3 letters to the kids

May: Joy

Over the course of the last 9 months, a number of comments have been made about how much “lighter” I seem lately. 

My 30s didn’t necessarily feel hard like my 20s (hello finding your place in the world post-college!) but they were formative in a way that made me tougher, more resilient. 

Bryan and I bought and remodeled a house, I learned what and incredible amount of physical pain I could endure, I lived through a world-shuttering pandemic while pregnant and with a newborn, I fed two children with my body, I’ve learned more patience in physically and emotionally carrying children than I ever thought possible, I made a career change. And with all that, I guess my light was a little, well, tired. 

These 40 challenges have brought me back to life. They’ve reconnected me with my closest friends and family, they’ve forced me to find time for myself, they’ve all given me something to look forward to. 

May was the most joyous month of them all (so far!). It was the month I really sunk into the fun, even in the tougher moments. 

I kicked off May with a girls weekend to Salida. We spent a day lounging in the Mt. Princeton hot springs - nary a child’s whine to be heard! We were so relaxed, sunscreen became an afterthought (and later regret, but very worth it in the moment). In Salida, everything felt easy! We rode bikes, ate delicious food (mountain bike taco tour ✅), gabbed, cried, puzzled, tourist-ed. The weekend flowed in a way that we all described as almost too good to be true, with a consensus 10/10 perfect day - weather, company, food, pace, joy. 

The following weekend, three girlfriends and I (+ Piper) checked the Skyline Traverse off the list. This challenge felt like a big one - mentally and physically. Piper and I had trained for months, Bryan had given me strategies for getting through it. On the day itself, my alarm didn’t go off, so I was scrambling to get ready, not eating enough and ultimately having tummy and energy problems because of it. There was one moment when I genuinely thought about turning around and heading home. But, in classic type 2 fashion, our 9 hour and 55 minute hike was fun! We enjoyed the views, chatted, gritted our teeth, saw friends and families who stopped along the way to support us, and ate more Nerds gummies than one could imagine. We ended the day with our families at our favorite taco place here in Boulder. The final feeling of a huge accomplishment is soul-filling in a way that’s hard to describe. 

So what I take from May is this: it’s an important part of life to go through hard things and the light inside may dim a bit in the process. But finding it and making the time to bring it back to life, feeling the joy in the deepest part of your belly, is equally important. 

I love you all for giving me that gift of forcing me to make time for finding me again. Onward (we’re halfway through, but you know what I mean) to June! 

Tasks finished this month (for those of you following along on the list): 

Mountain bike taco tour

Girls weekend

Hike the Skyline Traverse

9 out of 12 monthly date nights 

28 out of 50 weekly impact calls

25 of 40 “purple couch” conversations

3 of 40 written memories

2 letters to the kids

April: Just Go For It

Phew, this is a late one. May has already been jam-packed, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back to April. 

As I’ve mentioned in previous updates, I have a penchant for overthinking. Many of the last almost 40 years have been spent in that state of mind: inhibiting adventures, leaning into work or school because it’s easy and safe, not really letting go of the wheel of control. 

April was the perfect spring transition into this second half of my 40-for-40 - the beginning of bigger, more physically demanding challenges. It was a warm up to getting out of my head and just going for it, whatever “it” is.

The first “it” for April was curling. To start, curling was HARD, like really hard. My natural instinct was to focus on technique and style and trying to be “good” from the gates. The instructor made an off-the-cuff comment (it wasn’t mean, but I’d caught the subtlety) that my friend and I were easy to mark as “overachievers”. Oof, just the reminder I needed to relaaaaaax and just have fun. Curling: 10/10 would recommend giving it a try. 

Then, I was off to Vegas to drive fast, exotic cars around a track. A quick tangential story: many years ago, I was given the chance to drive a fast car up Boulder Canyon. I was so in my own head about it, that the instructor actually said to me, “You know, you CAN go faster.” #facepalm. 

So, on my way to Vegas, I made a commitment to myself to let go and send it. Letting go mentally was definitely made easier as I was with my dad. We spent so much of the time connecting and genuinely having a blast, that I didn’t get too much time in my head to overthink. (For the record, I hit a top speed of 110mph on the straightaway, significantly faster than my Boulder Canyon experience). 

As children, we don’t spend time learning about our parents as people, they are just parents. Vegas gave us the chance to talk adult to adult - not just parent to child. I got to hear about how he fell in love with cars in the first place, what aging is like, and the happiness he feels with his life at this stage in the game. By the end of the weekend, driving the car was just a fraction of the fun we had. And, when the time comes when someone asks “what was your dad like”, I can pull up Vegas as a core memory and sing as loudly as we did at the Bruno Mars concert or laugh as hard as we did while dancing in our chairs at the piano bar (okay, let's not kid ourselves, I got up and was dancing IN the piano bar at one point...). 

My final challenge of April was climbing up a flatiron with my brother and his climbing partner. Up to that point, when people asked me about the “hardest challenge on the list”, climbing a flatiron was up there. I’d not spent much time practicing, the danger of climbing is real, and the unknown of it all was high - a classic formula for a Katie spiral. But, I was with my brother - who I knew, at the deepest part of my consciousness, would do everything in his power to keep me safe and enjoy my time on the rock face - which allowed me to be so present in the day. His sharing of his passion and his ever-steady presence made it much easier to look down and enjoy the view, to straddle rocks, and say “okay” to rappelling down the backside. I recognize as I type this, that not everyone has that type of trust in or relationship with their sibling and I feel incredibly privileged to experience that. And now, every time I drive out of my subdivision and look up at the flatirons, that feeling of inherent trust is what I remember (along with the low-key level of “holy shit, climbing is a crazy sport” I felt the whole time). 

As with almost every post - I end with gratitude. I’m so thankful for you all for pushing me with these 40-for-40 challenges to get out of my comfort zone (wait until I tell you about May, sheesh), to get out of my head, and to experience things I’d never otherwise try. There are no words to describe how I am immensely grateful to you all, so just maybe imagine a Boulder yogi with his perfectly tanned skin, man-bun, with his hands at heart center, slightly bent over, saying “namaste”.  

Tasks finished this month (for those of you following along on the list): 

Take a curling class

Drive an exotic car around a track at high speed

Climb a Flatiron

8 out of 12 monthly date nights 

25 out of 50 weekly impact calls

16 of 40 “purple couch” conversations

3 of 40 written memories

2 letters to the kids

March: The Soft Parts of our Hearts

We all have people who sit in the soft parts of our hearts. We look forward to seeing them regardless of how much or little time has passed; we think of them when we see something beautiful in nature, eat a delicious sandwich, or listen to music they love; we cheer for them from the sidelines of their life even if they don’t know it.

March was filled with those people.  

Early in March, I was meant to visit a friend in Arizona. When she called a few days out from my departure flight letting me know she had the flu, Bryan helped me quickly pivot the weekend into a solo backpacking trip in the Superstition Mountains. As the sun set in Charlebois canyon and the stars came out, the first identifiable constellation appeared - Orion’s Belt - and that familiar calm and steadiness of having a friend nearby, even if just in spirit, settled me in for my first-ever solo camp. (Orion’s Belt is her favorite and I have heard her say the same phrase about it every time we have been together and she’s seen it since we were freshmen in college. I absolutely said those words aloud to myself at camp.)

Mid-March brought a girls trip to Vail to share in a cherished pastime: a ski day with lunch on a slopeside deck on a favorite ski hill where so many hours have been spent and personal memories created. I originally went into this particular challenge expecting a certain outcome, but what emerged was immensely more meaningful than I ever could have imagined: being a bystander as some of Bryan and my dearest friends poured out love for Maddie and enveloped her into their family’s collective - sharing lunch, laughing with her, building snowmen, and helping her skiing confidence grow. I got to watch our children continue to solidify their friendship.  

My final March challenge was to make art with a friend who is one of the most phenomenal artists I know. We went to a local wall to spray some graffiti (a first for me!) and he brought his family. I have spent many hours on road trips with this friend - sharing hip hop artists a full volume, but his family is newer to me. I am so immensely proud of the person he has become since our college days, the life he’s made for himself, the love he’s found. 

Aging into the “fall of youth” is a funny thing. There’s the lingering taste of your 20s and 30s, the freedom, adventure, effervescence. Memories of carefree time with friends. And, there’s an easing into this new season, it feels deeper. I get to bear witness to the early fruits of self-work, the smoothing of sharp edges from life’s hardships, the channeling of passions and energy into focus. And, for friends who I’ve known since high school and college, I get to see that you are not just YOU any more. You are connected to partners and children and animals. And I get the distinct pleasure to fill my heart with them too.

The intent behind my ask of you all to submit challenges that meant something to you was to connect with you all - whether in person or in spirit. The result has been such a joy (core memories all over the place!). 

I don’t reach out to any of you nearly enough when you come into my mind, be it from walking by an old haunt, or listening to a song, smelling a campfire, or seeing an old photo. Believe me when I say it here: I’m truly, truly honored that you all have opened up your hearts to share with me over the years, I hold you all so close, and I’m forever your cheerleader - even when you don’t realize it. 

Tasks finished this month (for those of you following along on the list): 

Camp outside one night by yourself (the backyard doesn't count)

Go skiing on a bluebird day (and picnic on the deck at Vail)

Make art together

7 out of 12 monthly date nights 

21 out of 50 weekly impact calls

14 of 40 “purple couch” conversations

3 of 40 written memories

1 letter to the kids

February: The Pharmacist and Perspective

Throughout each month, I look for patterns and themes in my experiences to write these challenge updates. I struggled all of February because I spent much of the month planning for what’s coming up this spring and summer (spoiler: the schedule is PACKED) versus completing tasks. I had several general ideas brewing, but none felt quite right - until Friday, during a somewhat routine call to fill my Rheumatoid Arthritis prescription. 

This year marks 9 years of living with RA. This time of year always brings up memories of feeling the first pangs of pain, not knowing what was really coming.  

One of my impact calls this month was to an old boss and mentor (and now dear friend), who I worked with during the peak of my pain. A particular conversation she had with me one day gave me the emotional kick in the pants I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and my diagnosis. I needed to dig deep and find the light. 

And then, this past Friday, I spent over an hour on the phone with my insurance company and my prescription financial assistance division to fill my annual balance for my RA meds. It’s normal - at least it’s come to be - to spend large chunks of time each year working out the kinks (to note: an hour is actually very fast compared to years past). 

This year, the pharmacist made me take a scaled survey on the level of ability I have to perform tasks throughout my day and the level of pain I have doing each. His first question: “how easy is it to dress yourself”, next: “to bend down to pick something up”, next: “to lift a glass of water to your mouth”. With each question I found myself nearly on the verge of tears because I remember a time when those things felt impossible. For perspective, one day about a year into this RA journey, Bryan had to cut my french toast (a reasonably soft food) because I couldn’t put enough pressure on the fork without reeling in pain. 

And now, now! I’m training for a 16-mile, 6,000 foot elevation gain hike. I’m getting ready to do a gravel bike race, and ride mountain bikes on the Colorado trail. I’m paddle boarding and making pottery and sewing skirts with my mother in law for my 5-year old (she LOVES it, by the way). For what it's worth, the pharmacist's response to these activities was a very verbal “Oh, wow. I don’t hear this level of activity often.” 

Aging is so wild because of perspective. When I was 31 and just diagnosed, living in so much pain day to day, unable to walk on certain days, I thought the world was over. I’d see people on jogs and on bikes and my heart would break because I wasn’t sure I’d ever do those things again. A decade later, I have the perspective that I will always find some sort of way, I’ll dig deep and find that light, because I know from experience that I won’t let myself live any differently.

So as I sat down to begin my assignment of writing letters to the kids about who I am and how I arrived here, this is where I started. Life is entirely what you make it - the people you love, how you love yourself, how you tackle challenges, how you absorb the hard stuff without becoming hard yourself. It’s crying on the phone with a random pharmacist because you’re really, really, really happy that you get to stand on top of mountains with a heart full of love.

Tasks finished this month (for those of you following along on the list): 

Sew something (a skirt for Maddie!)

6 out of 12 monthly date nights 

18 out of 50 weekly impact calls

12 of 40 “purple couch” conversations

3 of 40 written memories

1 letter to the kids

January: Community

One year ago in January, I felt a pull amidst the current darkness and chaos of the world to create a place for connection. So, I started a monthly open-house potluck with neighbors in an effort to forge stronger bonds in our very immediate community. Over the course of the year, the gathering has grown and grown (in classic Katie fashion), welcoming familiar and new faces each month. 

In the year that has gone by, our neighborhood has become a place where waves, greetings, and stopping to catch up with one another has become commonplace. Bonds have been built outside of our potlucks, friendships have been formed. A reinforcement that we all need a place for connection. 

It seems almost serendipitous then that this month, life - much less any of these 40 for 40 items - would have been impossible without the help of our community. 

We kicked off 2026 with Bryan getting absolutely pummeled by Flu A. He spent nearly a week quarantined in our bedroom in hopes of sparing the children. Many months prior, not knowing the flu would take Bryan out of the equation, Maddie and I had scheduled our day-date to the theater to watch a performance of Frozen. The day would have been absolutely impossible without our neighbors who rallied together at the last minute to watch Tobin for an afternoon. Because of their compassion, Maddie got to dress up in her princess dress, sing her favorite Frozen songs, and meet Elsa IRL after the performance. 

Later in the month, Tobin was able to have his day-date of riding the bus around Boulder (he’s a big bus and car guy right now) and eating chocolate muffins because of the kindness and willingness of our community to dedicate time to hang and build baking soda volcanoes with Maddie. Tobin was absolutely delighted by each and every other bus (screaming “Mom! There’s a BUS!!!”) that drove by our bus. 

Since the beginning of this challenge, our neighbors have never stopped asking “when’s a good day next month we can come over and hang with the kids so you can have your date night?”. They have spent many evenings watching kids movies and staying up way past their own bed times so Bryan and I could make space for our monthly dates.

This 40-for-40 project began in part to experience new things, but what makes it special is connecting to you all (neighbors, friends, and family) throughout it all. You’ve shared yourselves with me through your challenges and you’ve also given of your time and energy so I can complete them. You’ve gone on training hikes and bike rides with me, you’ve planned and booked our shared tasks, you’ve given me ideas to move my children’s book forward, you’ve been gracious in receiving gratitude and explanation of the impacts you’ve had on my life, you’ve shared deep feelings, hopes, and dreams in “purple couch” conversations.  

To say that I’ve had tears brought to my eyes by the generosity of you all - my dearest community - would be an understatement. (Let’s be real, I’ve straight ugly cried on more than one occasion). You all make the world brighter. Onward to February! 

Tasks finished this month (for those of you following along on the list): 

Attend a theater performance

1-on-1 date (or trip) with each kid

Take a sushi making class 

5 out of 12 monthly date nights 

16 out of 50 weekly impact calls

10 of 40 “purple couch” conversations

3 of 40 written memories

December: Bird by Bird

There is a story of a school-aged boy who receives a large project to write a report on birds in the world. The boy is completely overwhelmed, in tears over the sheer magnitude of the project. Eventually, his father sits down with him, providing advice on how to approach the report: “take it bird by bird, buddy. Bird by bird”. 

This concept of “bird by bird” has echoed through December.

A bit of background: there have been countless times in my life where I’ve not pursued a hobby, project, or something I’m interested in for being too overwhelmed. I instantly mentally spiral into all the logistics (what gear do I need, what do I need to learn quickly, should I go back to school for it, should I find myself a mentor, is this a future job) and the what-ifs (what if I put in time and effort and hate it, what if I’m not good at it out of the gate, what if I actually am good at it and have to reevaluate all other things?). 

This 40-for-40 project has given me the space to throw all that out the window. Instead of feeling isolated in setting my own goals, I’m accountable to you all for sampling the things you’ve assigned and channel you all while doing them (my favorite part of every task!). I’ve been able to approach each item from a place of freedom and joy instead of anxiety. Man oh man is it refreshing! (Even the animal spirit card I pulled at a somatic breath work class got the memo.)

I checked off “play a song on the piano” this month. I have wanted to learn how to play the piano for close to 20 years, but never made the time because it felt so big. Looking back to August when this task truly kicked off, I really only knew the note middle C. Since then, I’ve downloaded a piano instruction app on my phone and practiced 15 to 30 minutes a day for the better part of 16 weeks. I’ve come out with a number of (easy) songs, including my all-time favorite Christmas song, and genuinely look forward to sitting down to play. 15 minutes a day. Bird by bird. 

This month I also went back to dance class at a local studio to learn a hip hop sequence. While I’ve danced off and on most of my life, I’ve not been to class since before the pandemic so my skills were rusty. It took nearly the entire class to get out of my head about how I “should” be dancing and instead remind myself to break it into bite-sized bits, don’t be afraid to ask questions to understand more, and enjoy the flow. Eight counts at a time. Bird by bird. 

Looking ahead to this spring and summer, there are extremely physical tasks: rock climbing a Flatiron, hiking the skyline traverse, bike touring. Things I simply cannot do off the couch, December kicked off chipping away at the fitness of it all this month. Easily digestible sessions at the rock climbing gym, 30 minute runs, 20 minute lifting workouts. Bird by bird. 

I’ve also been working on my children’s book since August, a monumental effort. December marked working through feedback from an editor, choosing how I’d like to publish it, and determining physical details of the book - from page weight to size to cover type. I also received some amazing image drafts of my main character from the insanely talented illustrator I’m working with. One word at a time, one page at a time. Bird by bird. 

I can’t quite put into words the immense impact this outlook has had on me - it’s something I’ve not been able to unlock on my own for nearly 40 years. Turns out, I needed your help to flip on the light switch in my brain and heart and push me to let go of the anxiety I was holding onto in order to take the first step in things I never ever would have tried before. I am forever grateful, in the deepest parts of my being, to all of you for giving me this gift.

Onward to January! 

Tasks finished this month (for those of you following along on the list): 

Hip hop dance class - learn a full sequence

Learn to line dance/two step

Take a somatic breath work class

Learn a song on the piano

4 out of 12 monthly date nights 

13 out of 50 weekly impact calls

7 of 40 “purple couch” conversations

3 of 40 written memories

November: Learning to be a Better Surfer

One of the challenges I’ve been enjoying most is calling someone once a week and telling them the impact they’ve had on my life. Every single call has inevitably had a moment of tears from me (no surprise). Most of my calls have been to people I haven’t kept in regular touch with over the years, which inevitably leads to a wonderful catch up (also no surprise). In a number of calls, I have received words of wisdom - small treasures, really - that really make my brain tickle or give me an anchor to keep hold of (these always surprise me).

In one of my recent calls, a very dear friend dropped one such nugget of gold: “Life is all about learning to be a better surfer. Sometimes you hit the wave head on, sometimes you let the wave pass, sometimes you dive under the wave, and sometimes you get to ride the wave.”  

November started out great! I took a phenomenal pottery class with some neighbor friends. We made a date night of it - dinner, drinks, and two of the three of our first time wrangling clay (I’m 100% sure that’s NOT pottery slang). I managed to come out of the class with two small bowls, both of which I kept and am VERY excited to use once I get them back from the Pottery Lab.

And then, the November wave hit – hard. A rotating door of illnesses swept through the house: strep throat, fevers, colds, stomach bugs (yes, plural), and pink eyes (again, plural). Work picked up drastically. Tobin protested bed time and naps and just sleep in general. Plans to accomplish challenges squashed. 

Honestly, I spent a good chunk of the month annoyed. But, as all solid words of wisdom do, I couldn’t shake “life is all about learning to be a better surfer”. I was getting caught in the eddies of not following my plan, feeling the self-imposed pressure of falling behind, and letting myself spiral (I know, I’m mixing surfing and kayaking metaphors). I was being a terrible surfing student, trying to push against the weight of the ocean as if I could move it myself.

I’m coming to realize that a major part of aging really means gaining enough wisdom to recognize the patterns of our mental/emotional traps in hopes of escaping them more quickly so we’re able to enjoy riding more of the waves. The Type A, first born daughter, planner, Virgo perfectionist in me wanted to do more, stick to my plan. But the wave hit me head on, so what I can do for the months (and really, life) ahead is practice letting it go and remember that other waves are coming - some of which I’ll get to ride and feel in the flow again. 

Onward to December! 

Tasks finished this month (for those of you following along on the list): 

Pottery class

3 out of 12 monthly date nights 

10 out of 50 weekly impact calls

6 of 40 “purple couch” conversations

3 of 40 written memories

BONUS SECTION: We did get to see (with the naked eye!) the Northern Lights here in Boulder this month and it. was. AWESOME!

October: Past, Present, and "Who I'm Becoming"

October is for birthdays in our house. In addition to basically an entire month of celebrations, I did manage to complete some challenges (for those of you following along on the list). I spent a really lovely kid-free afternoon at Strawberry Hot Springs in Steamboat with my mom (challenge #1). We got to spend a whole bunch of quality time together hiking and relaxing in the hot spring pools below the golden glow of the few remaining aspen leaves. It was dreamy.

Fueled by birthday cake sugar and the official passage of another year around the sun for Bryan and the kids, October also became the month the idea of aging hit me right between the eyes.  

While recording a video conversation about our friendship (challenge #2), one of the questions we discussed was “In what ways has our friendship shaped who each of us is becoming.” Becoming. Becoming. Who am I becoming? The phrase invites you to envision and intentionally work toward the person you want to be. I have to be honest, I clammed up a bit. 

We ask Maddie and Tobin, “what do you want to be when you grow up?”. As expected, the answer is centered around jobs - or being Elsa from Frozen. But how do you decide who you want to become when you’re entering middle-age?

I have long-known about myself that the unknown, that the concept of the “sky is the limit” or “the possibilities are endless” overwhelms me - there’s a famous family story that I cried when I turned 10 because I “didn’t know what double-digits would feel like”. I am a root-planter, a feet-firmly-on-the-ground kind of gal. I often focus more on who I am in this present moment and how I arrived here instead of dreaming of possibilities with my head in the clouds. My gratitude practices often focus on who and what helped shape the “today” me. 

After our conversation, I spent half of October wrestling with “who am I going to be”, the future me. What goals should I be setting, when should I start on them, how do I know if I am on the “right” path, is 40 too old to pivot, what if I fail? (< full ownership there’s more therapy work to be done there) 

This month, we also completed our family time capsule (challenge #3) to be opened at Maddie's High School graduation in 2039. As a refresher, a time capsule is a freezing of this moment in time for your future self to revisit. In putting the box together, I giggled a whole bunch over items of our current little-kid life (see Maddie's self-portrait below). But a time capsule is also a vehicle for giving your current self a moment to think about your future. I also did a plethora of envisioning Bryan and I with 18-year old and 15-year old children. I also did PLENTY of ugly crying that our dog Piper wouldn’t be with us by that time (#stillbawling).   

In a letter to my future self, I wrote plenty of comments on my current life status (spoiler: I’m in a super great spot). I also wrote down a few hopes, intentions, goals. I didn’t spend time over-thinking them, I didn’t twist myself into knots about what they “should” be. Instead, I just started writing, and out came my answer to who I want to (and already am) become: someone who is healthy and happy, who has strong relationships with my husband, my family and my friends, who can sit in the warmth of the sunshine, laugh often, and be open to the magic life sends my way. 

In the end, October taught me that this 40-for-40 challenge is a perfect balance of past, present, and future. You all have given me the doorway in which to stand to both look back AND look forward. I can also lean into the trust that the path forward is going to be just fine - even when I have to pivot or fail - because I have you all as my roots.

Onward to November!

Tasks finished this month: 

A day at a hot springs, kid free

Video record a conversation together based on experiences of OUR friendship

Family Time Capsule (to be opened at Maddie’s High School Graduation, 2039)

2 out of 12 monthly date nights 

7 out of 50 weekly impact calls

5 of 40 “purple couch” conversations

September: Through Lines and Magic

On the phone this week, a friend asked me about a deeper facet of this 40 for 40 project: “What’s the message your people are sending you?” (disclaimer: it’s about to get heady). 

There is some magic happening behind the scenes of this journey - everything feels perfectly placed, feels fluid, as if you all, unbeknownst to one another, have crafted a special, life-changing journey for this year. From day one, I’ve done a lot of reflecting on the metaphysical energy and the through lines - beyond just turning 40 - of this whole endeavor. Here’s what keeps coming up:  

Number One: Growing adoration. For the existing beauty in my own life, but also for all of you. What has been an unexpected surprise is the new layer of fondness I develop, the skips of joy in my heart, as I get to know new sides of you all through these tasks. You’re all such cool people. I am in awe of you. I’m forever grateful to call you my community. 

Number Two: Reflections and new beginnings. A full moon paddle board was the first list item I completed of this project, and what a tone the experience set! September’s full moon is known as the Harvest Moon. The moon rose rich amber over the horizon, covered by a partially cloudy night, beautiful in a way no picture could ever capture (side note: one of my favorite John Mayer songs is about living outside of a 3x5). Spiritually, the Harvest Moon symbolizes abundance, gratitude, and completion. It is the transition from summer to autumn, a period of balance between light and dark, and an invitation for reflection, setting intentions, and letting go of old patterns. If that’s not a symbol for this transition into a new era of my life, I don’t know what is! 

Number Three: Human connection is magic. This weekend, a very dear friend and I checked off hiking Mt. Sanitas to watch the sunrise. After a gorgeous sunrise and nearly an hour of solitude at the summit, we were approached by an older man, Curtis. Curtis was handing out hats - these were not just regular hats. These hats are his personal project to spread random acts of kindness, they represent (per his handmade label) “the spirit of what humans can do to change the world.” These hats catalyze human connection. I’ve always believed that (most) people are in the world doing the best they can with what they’ve got. If your heart is open, if you extend your hand (hat in it or not), if you can meet people where they are, magic happens. My weekly impact calls, attending the Connection Lab, and hiking Sanitas gave me the space to breathe and to feel that again - admittedly, it’s been slow to come back since having children and the pandemic and I missed it. You all have reminded me that humans are magical, connecting with them is magical. Humans and their stories carry boundless beauty. As you move through your week this week, take a moment to sit with my favorite Connection Lab question “how connected do you feel in your life?”. If the answer is “not enough” I encourage you to check in with yourself and also give someone a phone call and say hello. 

Tasks finished this month: 

Full moon paddle boarding

Attend a Connection Lab

Hike Sanitas - summit before sunrise 

1 of 12 monthly date nights 

3 of 50 weekly impact calls

40 for 40: it’s going to be a BIG year.

When I told my boss about this challenge, the first question she asked was: “are you staving off a mid-life crisis?” My family genes have women living until close to 100 on both sides, so I’ll save the mid-life crisis for another decade - but her question did prompt me to dig much deeper into why I’m dedicating an entire year to random tasks. 

I’ve thought: maybe because Bryan and I are done building our family and the baby brain fog has finally started to lift or maybe it’s because I have more capacity because I’m off social media. Maybe it’s because I’m currently at a company that allows me emotional space to consider literally anything else besides the startup hustle. 

While all of that is true, the core of this challenge is really about lightness (because we could all use a little more right now, ya know?!) and optimism and connecting with friends and family. It’s about trying new things and being silly and being humbled and crying and belly laughs and big toothy smiles. It’s about experiencing the best parts of being human. 

The original challenge - as I heard it from a friend - was to accept tasks to complete. In true Katie fashion, I needed a connection point to others because that is ultimately what fuels my fire. So, I added my spin: submit a task that means something to you or something we can do together. 

And man, oh, man my people did NOT disappoint. I’ve got adventures of all sorts - some that make my belly tickle (as Maddie would say) from nerves, some that made me cry upon just receiving them, some that will bring me peace and reflective solitude, some that I can already feel the laughs coming out. I’ve shared the list with you all so you can see what I’ll be up to this year. I’ll also be posting regular updates on my progress if you’d like to follow along!

As you read through them, if any inspire you, please feel free to participate! There are a number of items with further detail which I’m happy to share if you’d like to join in. Life is more fun with a community!  

A VERY hearty thank you to those of you who submitted something. My life is so full because of you all. Here’s to 40 (and completing a task every 9.6something days)!