"An adventurous person will always have moments of feeling like a fraud--it's a sign that you're creating new roles for yourself, that you're evolving. It means you're doing great, passionate work." - Todd Kashdan

I'm not a city girl. I was born in rural New Hampshire, went to school on the beaches of Southern California and have always dwelled in places where the sky is vast and the sun brilliant. But here I am, somewhere in a high-rise off Park Avenue, 30-something floors off the ground, thinking about how it doesn't get much more city then this.

I often think about the reward of living in the greatest city on earth. That's why I'm here--New York City...where dreams are made of...there's nothing you can't do... The rewards exist in the connections I make. New York City is home to some of the greatest minds, ideas and cultures in the world. The goal is to connect with them and build an incredible career. Here's hoping.

It's here, tucked away in some East Village underground scene that you find the real movers and shakers. Here lives the dreamers. Those whose ambitions are greater than their paychecks, and bigger than their 300 square foot apartments. But what this city lacks in sunshine and breathing room, it makes up for in intelligence--brilliance in fact.

This is the hub of the universe. The axis of the media world, the center of the performing arts world, all the science, education and intellect one could desire. The only problem (for lack of a better word) is..it's all or nothing. Once you're on this riotous island, you're here. In waist deep. You're sinking or swimming. You can't have a little New York City. You are either completely submerged or standing steady and dry on the shore banks, looking in, wondering.

So no, I'm not a city girl. I love the city, I love THIS city, but I'm not a city girl. I often think about what it will mean to leave, where I will go and if I'll ever be able to adjust to "normal " life again. Because this is not exactly normal life. This is life on steroids. Everything going, nothing slowly, enough adrenaline to exhaust the faint hearted in a simple year. This life, inside these city lights, is exciting, challenging and always progressing.

Life outside the city sustains me. Lazy mornings filled with sunshine, back yards, oceans. Big skies. BBQs and houses big enough to hold a few house guests--or many for that matter. But when I'm in the city, I'm thinking. I'm planning my future and making moves so that indeed, that future becomes a reality. Complacency is not an option for the bold and ambitious.

In the words of Daniel Elliot, "This is just a stopping point along your path." It's not the ending point.

The Marathon Diaries: A Prologue

Check out my incredible friend Jaclyn, editorial assistant at Self magazine, as she makes the journey toward completing her first full marathon. This girl is legit.


...To say I'm an active person might be an understatement. My 400-square-foot Manhattan apartment is home to a carbon-fiber Trek road bike, a Burton snowboard, K2 rollerblades, an Xbox Kinect and about 15 pairs of sneakers. The longest relationship I've had in NYC is one with the Club H Fitness in Murray Hill... Continue reading about Jaclyn's adventure [Here]


You can read more about the adventures of Jaclyn and Kate [Here] and [Here]

Stroller Madness

Dear Mothers of Manhattan,

This is a call for peace. I beg of you, please discontinue the use of your child's stroller as a lethal weapon when walking down the streets of our beloved city. Try to remember that the tiny human inside of that torpedo stroller is in fact fragile. I know that those of us, who value our feet, kneecaps and other viable body parts, would appreciate if you'd cease from driving your strollers like military tanks out for blood. Especially if you went with the doublewide seater.

Please don't get me wrong, I appreciate the fact that you've chosen to procreate and I will gladly give you extra time when boarding the bus, or checking out at the grocery store and I won't, not even for a second, cast a shred of judgment when your kid starts throwing a tantrum because I understand it's not your fault. No, dear Manhattan Mothers, I will not. All I ask is that you don't run me over on your way to Starbucks for your grande-skinny-no foam-extra hot-cinnamon dulce latte. (Inhale.) I've fractured many a toe to the fierce wheels of your child's transportation unit and quite frankly, I'm over it.

Not to mention today's strollers are equipped with 10 cup holders, off-road suspension and dual speakers for optimum sound quality. I'm sure I'll appreciate all of that when I have a bouncing, bundle of joy myself but until then, all I can think about is how much it hurts when you plow me over.

So again, I beg of you, please have mercy on me. I have enough post-traumatic stress to leave me quivering at even the sight of stroller.