Goalkeeper Michelle Betos' Diving Header Goal was No Fluke

“I mean Allie just played a perfect ball. I said a couple prayers right before and it just happened. I have literally no idea.”

Goalkeeper Michelle Betos’ response to her unbelievable diving-header equalizer goal is fitting for a humble player like herself. However, it’s not the full truth.  The combination of Michelle’s wide-eyed, open-mouthed facial expression and the 15,214 fans wildly cheering, makes it appear as though everyone in the stadium was in utter disbelief of what they had just witnessed. That may have been true for the spectators, but Michelle knew she was going to score weeks before it happened.

Two games prior, we were in a similar situation playing at home against Houston. We were down a goal with the clock running out. The ball went out for an offensive corner kick. As an all-out Hail Mary-esque attempt to score a goal, we heaved every player, including Michelle, into the box. Unfortunately we were unable to come up with the equalizer.

After the game, we were in the locker room and Michelle told a few of us that when she ran up for the corner she was absolutely convinced that she was going to score. As a goalkeeper, and having never practiced finishing, Michelle knew she had no logical reason to assume she was going to score, but she truly felt it deep down inside.

And then two weeks later, in a rowdy, jam packed Providence Park, it happened. We were down a player and a goal, with one minute left in stoppage time. Michelle glanced at our coach to get the thumbs up to get in the box for an attacking corner. Allie bent in the ball, and it deflected off a defender for another corner. This time, Allie perfectly drilled the ball into Michelle’s direction. Michelle took a few quick steps to adjust her positioning, and then dove, flying with all of her momentum into the ball as it connected with her head.

A sensational diving header goal by goalkeeper Michelle Betos in the 94th minute of stoppage time.

A minute later the whistle blew, and the team, as well as an ecstatic fan, mauled Michelle to the ground. The entire crowd chanted “Be-tos!” Then she was microphoned up for her interview.

“I mean Allie just played a perfect ball. I said a couple prayers right before and it just happened. I have literally no idea.”

Yes Allie Long played a perfect ball. Yes I’m sure Michelle said a few prayers. But it didn’t just happen. Michelle had a gut feeling that she was going to score a goal.

Deep-rooted beliefs are one of the most overlooked assets we have as humans. Time and time again, we hear of people having these convictions that come to fruition.

In the last Super Bowl, the Seattle Seahawks were in a prime position to score a touchdown and secure the win. But rookie New England Patriot Malcom Butler intercepted Russell Wilson’s pass which ultimately led to his team hoisting the trophy. In a post game interview, Butler said “I had a vision I’d make a big play.”

Bill Gates had a vision of there being a computer in every home and that this technological device would single-handedly change the world. Nothing of this sort had ever existed, thus he had no logical reason to believe these things. Yet he believed it at his core.

Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant,  Oprah Winfrey, Mark Cuban…had deep, seemingly irrational beliefs, and they came true.

These successes are no coincidence. Beliefs are insanely influential. They give us confidence in what we are doing and guide our actions.  When we take our beliefs one step further, and not only believe them on an intellectual level, but also on an emotional level, they are a lethal weapon. When beliefs are charged with emotion, they provide us substantially more motivation to fulfill them. They allow us to disregard rational thoughts, and simply trust and follow our instincts. As a result, nearly anything is possible.

In the game prior, Michelle’s envisioned header goal didn’t come to reality, but her belief remained strong. Successful people hold their beliefs through all of their struggles and setbacks.

Last week, Michelle’s family exceeded their family data plan. Her mom asked Michelle if she had been using her phone more. In the background, her dad quietly chimed in, “Sorry,…it was me. I keep watching Michelle’s goal every 7 seconds.”  Idon’t blame Michelle’s dad. I’ve personally have watched the video 30+ times, admittedly in disbelief. The goal was brilliant. Undeniably, a special goose-bump inducing moment for all who were there.

But it wasn’t just a coincidence. Michelle fully believed at a gut level, despite rational thinking, that she was going to score. And when you truly believe something with all your being, anything can happen. Even something as crazy as a goalkeeper scoring a diving header in stoppage time.

For more on Michelle:

Arrow Liver-Michelle Betos

Michelle Betos’ Super-sized Childhood Leads to Super-sized Success

Arrow Liver: My Dad

On Father’s Day, I asked my dad, Chris, if I could interview him for the site. He started laughing and asked why I wanted to interview him.

I can guarantee you this is no pity interview. I didn’t want to interview him simply because it was Father’s Day. My dad is a straight up Arrow Liver. Anyone who has worked with or met my dad, can attest that Chris is The Man.

31 years as a Commercial Real Estate Broker, Chris is as relentless and as dedicated as they come. His extreme attention to detail and loyalty to his clients have led my dad to become one of the top brokers and business leaders in Portland.   But if you had a conversation with my dad, you’d never know he was so successful. He doesn’t care about the recognition and actually despises talking about himself. He’s way more interested in what’s going on in other people’s lives, a trait that has proven invaluable in the workforce.  Born and raised in Portland, Chris grew up just around the corner of our current family home. He played soccer throughout childhood and all the way through Lincoln high school, where his team won a state title. I would eventually follow his lead. At Lincoln, Chris was an all-around nice guy, but he had his mischievous days. For instance, he played a role in helping lift a teacher’s car onto the stadium bleachers.

After attending University of Oregon as a business major, Chris got into Real Estate and hasn’t looked back since.

I just looked up all the awards he’s received over the years; Oregon/SW Washington Investment Broker of the Year (2005, 2007-2009), Office Broker of the Year (2004, 2010), the Bill Naito Award (2005, 2007), NAI NBS Top Producer for ten years running, BOMA’s Broker of the Year three times, and the list goes on… I always knew my dad was great at his job, but he never mentions these accolades. He always remains extremely humble and focused on his priorities.

Chris attributes his success to some great mentors, his supportive team and putting in the hours.

Away from work, my dad mans the grill better than anyone I’ve ever met, is a sucker for a good chick flick, and is never short of “dad” jokes. Most of all, he has been one of my biggest supporters. Growing up, he’d coach both my brothers and my sporting teams and has attended every possible event of ours. He always offers a helping hand and is the one person that we know will be there for us no matter what.

This is no pity interview.

My dad is an Arrow Liver.

Name: Chris Johnson

Age: 54

Hometown: Portland, OR

Profession: Commercial Real Estate Broker

Years at profession: 31

What was your first thought when you woke up this morning?

I need to go get a workout in 

What is your morning routine?  

Get up around 4:30-5, shave, brush my teeth, go to the office, send a couple emails, record my voicemail for the day, go workout, come back to my desk and work until I quit sweating, shower, then get back to work

What did you love most about where you grew up?

I loved being able to skateboard to high school. I lived where the road was a steep downhill all the way to Lincoln. I loved being close to downtown, and being able to go to the beach and the mountains in an hour

What is the best advice you’ve ever been given?

Two things: You have two ears and one mouth so listen to people versus talking and have a little fun every day

Who is your definition of successful?

Warren Buffet. He’s been successful because he’s doing what he truly loves to do, and at the end of the day, gives his money away to charities

Why do you do what you do?

Because I couldnt get another job (there’s one of his “dad” jokes),  I like the people I work with,  I truly enjoy what I do, and I like the flexibility of having my own schedule and being able to spend time with family and friends 

Is this where you thought you’d end up?

Yes

How are you different than the average?

I put in the hours every day and I put the interest of my clients first and foremost 

What habit contributes the most to your success? 

I am very detail oriented. I make a lot of lists and goals

How do you spend your free time?

Relaxing at Black Butte or the Coast, barbecuing, vacuuming, getting the hair off Jake (our dog), watching sports, barbecuing, traveling, and golfing-but if you watched me play you’d wonder why 

Biggest setback? 

Not investing more at a younger age

What has been your most rewarding accomplishment?

Personally: Raising three amazing children and having the best wife in the world. 

In Work:  The relocation of Wieden & Kennedy to the Pearl, as that helped launch the development of the Brewery Blocks which I was fortunate to represent the owners in selling in 2007

What do you wish you knew as a kid? 

 One thing I did try do as a kid was to always respect my elders.  My grandfather was my mentor growing up

What’s your dream meal? 

A big bottle of red wine, Filet Mignon, a baked potato, and a wedge salad

What is your biggest challenge, what do you do to manage this challenge? 

Juggling multiple projects. I manage this by prioritizing, using a tracking report, but most importantly I have surrounded myself with a great team

What is the weirdest scar you have and how did you get it?

The one on my neck when I attempted to jump over the picket fence when I was six years old to try and get my baseball out of my neighbor’s yard

If you could trade live with one person for an entire day who would it be?

Mark Cuban would be interesting, but I would want to make sure I did it the day they played the Trail Blazers so I could cheer them on front row

If you could only keep five possessions what would they be?

phone, car, tv remote, a good bottle of red wine, and a foam roller

What skill would you like to learn and why? 

 Even though I am musically challenged, I do wish I had learned how to play the guitar

What is your favorite mobile app?

ESPN sports and I’m a big fan of Siri 

No One's Gonna Remember You (Lessons Learned from Bieber's Talent Manager)

Found this article featuring Scooter Braun, the talent manager who represents and discovered Justin Bieber. It's loaded with Arrow Living content:

Full Article here: No One's Gonna Remember You

A few of my favorite Arrow Living parts of the article:

• If it's achievable, then there's no excuse not to do it. And if you're going to do it, do it to the best of your ability

• Hold yourself to your highest standard. When Scooter was a kid, every night before bed his dad would tell him he was different. He wasn't better than anyone else. But if he wanted to be extraordinary, then he had to be held to extraordinary standards.

• Create your own story. Scott began introducing himself as "Scooter" after a highschool bet. He's stuck with Scooter ever since because "No one remembers Scott. But it's really easy to remember Scooter." This allowed Scooter to recreate his story and become who truly wanted to be.

• Treat everyone with the utmost respect, regardless if its the Janitor or the CEO

• Stick with your gut. Certain feelings happen that simply don't make sense, but you inexplicably feel something deep inside. Scooter went with his gut when he discovered Justin Bieber on YouTube. He knew Justin was the guy he was looking for just as he knew when he first met his wife, she was the woman he was going to marry.

• Every mistake has a lesson, even the mistakes of others. Learn from them.

The Worst and Greatest Break-Up of my Life (and the importance of time)

Bamboo sushi Lady: Bamboo sushi how may I help you?

Me: Hi can I place a to-go order?

Lady: Yes. Hold on just a second.

Me: (in my head) One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three one-thousand…that liar…four one-thous…

Lady: Alright, what would you like?

Me: May I please have the 1/2 pound Snake River Farms Wagyu Burger with the Cartlon Farms bacon, Togarashi Fried shallot rings, caramelized onion rings, avocado and special sauce.”

Lady: Yes how would you like your burger cooked?

Me: Medium rare please. Oh and add a fried egg please

Lady: Anything else?

Me: Is there anything else I can add to that?

Lady: No, that’s all we’ve got

Me: Ok fair enough. I’ll add a side of tempura then too please

15 minutes later, I grabbed my burger from Bamboo sushi, headed next door to Salt N Straw, cut the insanely long line, and reached in the “to-go” freezer for a pint of Cinnamon Snickerdoodle ice cream. If this was going to be our last encounter with each other,  then it damn well was going to a memorable one.

Break-ups are never fun. They are particularly painstaking when you still have feelings for the other one. And that’s how it was for me this time around. It was unexpected and rash, and at the time incomprehensible.

“I know it’s heartbreaking now, but it’ll be way better for you in the long run.” My doctor spewed out the generic, intended-to-be comforting line. Easy said coming from the one who facilitated the break-up in the first place.  This wasn’t your typical person-to-person break-up. It was more complicated than that.

On this fateful day, I was paying the doctor a visit for some digestive issues. We were shooting the breeze, when all of a sudden, her tone changed. The kind of shift where you know something drastic is about to happen.

And this was when she encouraged me to break up with food.

She suggested I follow a special regimen which involved drinking nothing but a product called Vivonex for every single one of my meals. The basic gist is that I have some unwanted bacteria swarming around in my small intestine.  Every time I eat, I’m feeding the evil bacteria. The Vivonex drink gets absorbed within the first few feet of the small intestine. So I’m essentially starving the bad guys, causing them to suffer a slow and painful death.

At first, I scoffed at the notion of leaving behind my beloved food. Ever since childhood, I’ve been spoiled with scrumptious home-cooked meals. My extended family uses any birthday, holiday, or free weekend, as an excuse to get together and enjoy each other’s company over delectable food. Furthermore, growing up in Portland, I’m naturally a lover of all things natural, organic, and farm-fresh, and love trying all the incredible restaurants in town. Yet, here I was being asked to give up the one thing, that without fail, always bring me joy.

After further convincing, I decided I’d give it a shot, under one condition.  Up to this point, I’d been eating essentially a Paleo diet. I asked the doctor if I would be able to eat whatever I wanted for my last supper.

“I sure hope so!” she replied.

Immediately, I knew my last meal was going to consist of a juicy Bamboo burger and Salt-N-Straw ice cream.

My doctor warned me that the Vivonex doesn’t taste good and that some people simply can’t handle it. I’m not sure if the doctor was intentionally utilizing reverse psychology on me, but it worked. Any time someone infers a situation is going to be tough, my mind automatically warps the statement into a competition. I didn’t care what this stuff tasted like. Challenge accepted.

Before I left the clinic, I was given a sample drink to make sure I could stomach the taste. Without hesitating, I ripped open the seal and took a swig. Immediately, my nostrils instinctually flared out as if to warn me I had just been poisoned. Am I being euthanized?  I looked at the container and saw that the product was unflavored. The only thing more deceivingly labeled are “fun-size” candy bars.

This was by far the most flavored unflavored thing I’ve ever experienced. “Morning breath saturated in expired chicken broth” would have been more accurate.

I’m one of those people who love observing people in pain. Not serious-torn-ligaments type pain, but the harmless kind such as witnessing someone trip and fall (uninjured), or unexpectedly get hit in the face with a soccer ball. So naturally, I made everyone I know try a sip of the stuff just to see the expression on their face. I graciously warned them that the stuff tastes bad, knowing full well that no warning would prepare them for the flavor punch they were about to experience.  And without fail, it was always worse than they anticipated. Each person struggled to come up with words to describe the poignant, stifling taste that hit their mouths. A few were able to provide remarkably accurate descriptions: Cat nibble soaked in vinegar. Cashews, mucus, sour milk. Condensed expired chicken broth. Barfed up dog food.

During those two weeks, my connection with food was extraordinarily different than our previous love affair. I was forced to cut all ties. Cold turkey. But without the turkey. There were no more passionate emotions, no more consoling, no more late night talk.  Sleep became my favorite part of the day because it was the only time I was able to let loose and dream of our deep and distant past.

Those were some difficult times, as anyone who has been through a serious break up can attest.  But, I took away a vital piece of insight that has helped me throughout my days; I have a deeper connection with food than I’ve ever realized, that is quite literally like a romantic relationship.

I devote hours and hours of time to eating. Food serves more than just a necessity for survival.  It’s a universal experience that unites us. It’s deeply rooted in our culture, and a source we use to share the incredible sensations provided by our taste buds. From grocery shopping, deciding what to have for each meal, prepping food, driving to meet up with friends for a coffee, snacking, going out to dinner, cleaning the dishes, to messing up a recipe and ordering take-out instead.

Those two weeks I had more time than ever before. I didn’t have to decide if I wanted to whip up some salmon with a side of  roasted Brussels sprouts, or opt for a visit to my favorite cafe, Harlow.  I didn’t have to cook, clean, or go to the grocery store.  I didn’t even have to refrigerate the stuff. Whether I liked it or not, I was stuck with my morning breath, dog puke, concoction.

And this got me thinking about the historical excuse “I don’t have time.” I’ve been a culprit of using this phrase in the past. But this Vivonex diet has further shown me it’s a straight up lie. Time is one of the few things that never discriminates. It doesn’t matter if you’re black, white, rich, poor, female, male, toothless, fat etc. Unless you’re held in captivity, no one is making you do anything.  Michael Jordan and Steve Jobs had the same amount of time as you and I. They each had their own struggles, but never used lack of time as a reason for inaction. They found the time to take focused, diligent action towards their goals every day

By no means am I suggesting anyone go on a Vivonex diet to free up hours in the day. Far from it. I wouldn’t wish that nutrition plan on my worst enemy. People should spend their time however they want. I personally love my relationship with food. In fact there’s few things in life that get me more jazzed than a perfectly seared ahi tuna or crispy baked sweet potato fries. So I’m perfectly fine spending a significant amount of time on my meals.

How we spend our time is a reflection of our priorities. We all have the same 24 hours in a day and it’s our choice how we spend it.

Sometimes it takes a break up to be reminded of our priorities. For me, high quality grub is most definitely still at the top of the list. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my supremely grilled fat, juicy medium-rare burger is getting cold.

Arrow Liver: Professional Lacrosse Player, Peter Baum

ANNAPOLIS, MD – MAY 03: Peter Baum #15 of the Ohio Machine moves the ball against the Chesapeake Bayhawks at Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium on May 3, 2015 in Annapolis, Maryland. (Photo by Larry French/Getty Images)

In 2013, the Ohio Machine chose Peter Baum as the first overall pick in the Major Lacrosse League draft. For most male athletes of this caliber, this inevitably means million dollar contracts, endorsement deals thrown your way, and nation-wide recognition. While Peter does have his fair share of sponsors and is widely known in the lacrosse realm, his career is far less glamorous than other professional sports. Lacrosse is still a growing sport.  Peter compares it to the National Women’s Soccer League. With most lacrosse salaries not lucrative enough to make a lifetime career a reality, many players often hold other jobs. Although Peter plays for the Ohio-based team, he lives in New York City and works for a sports and entertainment marketing firm. His team trains a day or two before their games, which consequently has made the airport his second home. He even has to travel for home games.  After the game, he catches a flight back to NYC in time for a day of rest. Then he’s up at 5:45am on Monday morning so he can get in a workout before he heads to the office.. It’s a hectic schedule, only suitable for a specific breed. But it’s this “grind” lifestyle that fuels Peter to continue living in this way. He hopes to pave the way for future lacrosse stars and allow them to focus solely on lacrosse. Peter plans on continuing to juggle both jobs for as long as Peter can tolerate airports, and is given at least two cups of coffee in the morning to jumpstart his day. Peter Baum is an Arrow Liver.

Name: Peter Baum
Age: 24
Hometown: Portland, OR
Profession: Professional lacrosse player and Sports Marketing
Years at profession: Started playing age 12, 2 years professionally

What was your first thought waking up this morning? 

(Preface: It’s the morning after Peter had a fun night out on the town with friends) I need to get the heck out of Long Island. 
Second thought: I need to sweat today

What is your Morning Routine? 
Work Day:Wake up at around 5:45am. Get dressed for the work day, and pack my gym bag. Off to the gym with my roommate and training partner, Matt Baker. Couple great hours if cardio, strength training, and stretching. 8:45am, leave the gym, grab a coffee on the way to the office. At work by 9:30 or so.

Practice day: wake up, roll-over and look at what happened on twitter mainly for the news and sports, shower, immediately, have at least two cups of coffee, pack my bag, take it downstairs, and eat breakfast in the hotel,  which is usually scrambled eggs and fruit with some granola, then go to practice. 

What is the best advice you’ve ever been given? 
“Be where your feet are.” My college coach used to always say that. I really like it. Don’t think too much about the past or where you wish you were. Focus on what you are doing right now. 

What habit contributes the most to your success?
It may be cliche, but hard work. I always think about how hard other people are working. Whatever it is; working out, shooting, playing, watching film, there’s always someone who is doing more, so you can’t rest.

Why do you do what you do? 
Two things. I think it annoys some people, but one of my favorite things about playing lacrosse is scoring goals. That and winning. Whether it’s a regular game or playoffs, nothing replaces the feeling of scoring goals and winning games for your teammates.

Biggest failure?  
I won the Division 1 Player of the Year in 2012, which for Colgate was a big deal because it was the first time ever. I was on the top of the world. Then senior year, I struggled through some injuries, put up half as many points, and we had a record of 8-7, missing the playoffs. To have your career end at that low, it was really hard. But it’s what motivated me to work so hard after and eventually be selected to the MLL All Pro team in my rookie year.  I wanted to get back to the top. 

What has been your most rewarding accomplishment? 
Being the first player from West of the Mississippi to win the Tewaaraton Award (equivalent of the Heisman). To do that for kids growing up on the west coast, and give them someone to look up to was pretty cool. 

What do you wish you knew as a kid? 
 Not put so much pressure on one specific goal because goals change and evolve and once you accomplish one there will always be another one. So just live each day. Try to do the best in the moment and don’t get too caught up in what’s next. 

What are your other passions? If you weren’t playing lax what would you have loved to pursue? 
Read more and travel more often for fun and not just for work/lacrosse. 

What is your biggest challenge and what do you do to manage this challenge?
Trying to balance professional sports with the other aspects of life. It’s tough to remain at the top of sport while having a lot of other obligations, a social life, and all that kind of stuff. In order to manage it I take care of lacrosse first. I get what I need to get done on lax front, and then I am open and energetic with everything else. 

How are you different than the average? 
I think very big picture. I try not to get caught up in really small things, whether it’s sports or something else. 

Is this where you thought you’d end up? 
Not when I was young and in high school; never in my wildest dreams. But after I won the Tewaaraton, it started to seem like more of a reality 

If you could trade lives with one person for an entire day who would it be?
Lebron. 

What did you love most about where you grew up?
The Natural environment. The rivers, mountains, ocean-you got it all.  So many opportunities for outdoor activities. 

If you could only keep five possessions what would they be? 
Geez this is hard. I’m not a “things” person. My phone for sure. Coffee, my lacrosse stick, a good pair or running shoes, and Burt’s Bees chapstick 

What skill would you like to learn and why? 
I used to be good at speaking French then dropped off. I’d like to become good at that again. 

What’s your favorite mobile app and what does it entail? 
Google Maps. It gives you directions and reviews. It’s much better than the Apple app. I would die without it in NY. There’s so much walking and navigating needed. 

A Once in a Lifetime Flight

Three losses in a row. The longest losing streak in Portland Thorns history. Our worst performance of the season. Not easy information to swallow as our team headed to the DC airport to catch our flight home. Travel days are never a highlight, but they are especially daunting following a defeat. With such an awesome Portland fan base, a loss feels not only like we’re letting ourselves down, but our city as well.

It’s a feeling that makes me want to completely erase the weekend from my memory and focus on the road ahead.

    When we arrived at our gate, I was thinking about what I’d give to own a time machine that could bypass these next 8 hours of travel, tuck me gently into my bed, and kiss me goodnight on the cheek.

    As I was daydreaming, the flight attendant chimed in over the intercom, “Passengers traveling to Portland, we have a very special treat for you today.  You are on an Honor flight with World War II Veterans. How about we give them a round of applause!”

I’d never heard of an Honor Flight, but after asking around, I discovered that it is a flight intended to transport veterans to honor and reflect at their memorial. On this particular flight, we were in the presence of over 20 World War II survivors.

We boarded the flight and I selfishly wished that I’d get to sit next to them and ask about their experience. Instead, I was stationed next to a very sweet couple who recently renovated their Mt Hood cabin. They showed a 22 picture slideshow of their newest renditions. The wife was particularly jazzed about her new book room. They were very warm-hearted (and even warmer-bodied, to the point that I really wanted to offer them some of my deodorant, but I decided against it), but it’s not every day you’re on a plane full of World War II veterans.

We touched down in Portland, and the captain of the aircraft initiated one more applause for the soldiers. The veterans stayed on the plane, while the rest of the passengers exited. We walked through the tunnel into the gate and were saluted by a handful of military officers, cops, and lieutenants whom were hoisting American flags. Passing-by Portland travelers bordered the gate and waited to greet the veterans. Our team joined the crowd to pay our proper respects.

As we were waiting, several of my teammates were in tears form this moving moment. We all knew how much these men had sacrificed for us. Because of them, we are able to live freely and pursue our passions. Mana Shim especially was an emotional mess, as she got the opportunity to speak with one of the veterans on the flight.

The veteran, George, told Mana that his sister had surprised him and signed him up for the Honor Flight. He had no idea that there was a memorial for him in DC. He remarked that he is simply grateful to have come out alive, unlike millions of his other soldiers. George never talked about the war much after it ended. To him, it was simply his job. He did what he was told to do. George expressed how appreciative he is that there is a memorial in DC to honor our history and remember where we came from.

After hearing this story, I realized that my “forget it happened” approach to our loss was fatally flawed. It’s impossible to completely forget about a loss and move onto the next one. We can’t just erase history. The past happened for a reason, and it served a purpose. Throughout the war, thousands of soldiers lost their lives battling for our country. These massive losses didn’t stop the soldiers from fighting, but rather willed them to keep going.  A soccer game is insignificant in comparison, but each loss serves a purpose. It shouldn’t be dwelled upon, but it needs to be recognized. It’s a source from which we can find motivation and use to gain a deeper appreciation of future victories.

The veterans entered the gateway and we applauded them one by one as they were escorted to their wheelchairs.

We asked one of the coordinators if they’d be willing to take a picture with us. She said that they’d love that and asked if we could sing God Bless America to them afterwards.

 Along with being a professional surfer, being a Beyonce-esque singer is in my top three dream jobs. What better time to spark this career than in the middle of the airport, with one of our Nation’s greatest melodies?  We actually have some really great singers on our team, myself not being one of them. Regardless of our voices, we all wanted to honor our veterans.

 We followed the group towards baggage claim and then assembled next to them to snap some photos. During this time, I was able to meet, talk to,  and thank several of the servicemen. Every time I shook their hand, they thanked me as if were opposite day.

Emily Menges had a particularly meaningful conversation with one of the men who sternly said to her, “We did the best we could, now it’s up to you.”

Those are some bold words. But it’s true. There will always be more battles that need to be won. Three losses doesn’t mean that we have failed. It’s all a part of the never-ending process of bettering ourselves and those around us. It’s important to be appreciative of all we have gained from the past. We must continue fighting, growing, and improving.

After the last picture was taken, Rachel Van Hollebeke, cued the team in and we all sang “God Bless America” in unison. I not-so-strategically placed myself in the front of the group. Of course, I had the voice of an angel, but I was a bit rusty on remembering the words.

At that moment though, it didn’t matter. I looked over at the veterans and every single one of them had their hand placed on their heart and was singing along with us. Half my team was crying. The past and present were irrelevant. In that moment, we had won.

Michelle Betos' Super-sized Childhood Leads to Super-sized Success

While my 12 year-old self was busy pogo sticking my heart away, Michelle Betos was indoors enjoying the bounty of homemade spaghetti carbonara, Pastichio, and whatever other Greek cuisine her mom was whipping up in the kitchen. Michelle had no interest hopping along with me. She was much more content chowing down on her mother’s concoctions. As a result, Michelle was larger than the other kids her age. But that didn’t bother her one bit. And I’m convinced that Michelle’s heavyset childhood is what propelled her to become the elite goalkeeper she is today.

In second grade, Michelle had more important things to worry about than her outward appearance. Such as her boyfriend Aaron, an equally plump fellow. Aaron and Michelle did all the things young lovers do. Their parents would take the two out to dinner, they’d help each other with homework, they’d play games at recess.

And on one particular day at recess, they decided to join in on a dodgeball game with their entire second grade contingency. Two of their classmates were nominated Captains. They swapped turns strategically picking their accomplices. Michelle’s excellent catching and throwing abilities earned her the first draft pick. But Aaron was picked dead last.

Visibly upset, Aaron asked the Captain, “How come you picked me last?”

“Because you’re fat!” the Captain responded

Aaron defensively blurted out, “But Michelle’s fat and you didn’t pick her last!”

“I am!?” Michelle’s eyes exploded out of her head. Having never given any thought to her weight, she was completely dumfounded by this statement. She wasn’t offended, but genuinely confused and taken aback.

In Michelle’s competitive nature, she put aside her bewilderment until afterwards and focused on the heated battle on the dodgeball court.

When Michelle’s mom picked her up from school, she was still rattled about Aaron’s comment. Before Michelle even shut the door she shouted, “Mom, am I fat!?”

Her mom responded quickly, as any protective mother would,

“No honey, you are not fat, you are just bigger boned!”

That was all the explanation Michelle needed. At such a young age, body image and self-consciousness were a foreign concept. All that Michelle cared about was being happy, which almost always involved hanging out with her friends, playing with a ball, and eating food. Fittingly, lunch break was one of Michelle’s favorite pastimes as it involved all three of these things.

Per usual, Michelle would sit down with her friends at the cafeteria and sprawl out a buffet of her family’s Chinese leftovers. Wontons, Chow mein, fried rice, beef and broccoli, with a handful of fortune cookies to top it off. Michelle’s friends would be munching on your typical brown bag lunch-something along the lines of a sandwich, carrots, apple, Goldfish, and a couple Oreos. Michelle could not comprehend how her friends weren’t still hungry after eating their relatively measly meals. She’d offer them some of her food but they always declined. Oh well, more for me, she thought.

Unbeknownst to Michelle, her love for food was actually a serious health concern.  When Michelle was just 5 years old, her parents met with a doctor who classified their daughter as morbidly obese. The doctor showed them a copy of Michelle’s growth chart. While the average kid’s height and weight rate gradually inclines with age, Michelle’s sky-rocketed with the steepness of Mt. Everest. The doctor explained that if Michelle continued this trend, she’d be at a serious risk of heart complications and other health issues.

Michelle’s parents digested the information.  Their main priority was instilling their daughter with high self esteem, support, and unconditional love,  Additionally, growing up in a Mediterranean family they believed a well-fed child was a happy child. Their daughter was confident, bright, and always smiling from ear to ear. That’s what mattered most.

A fan of all sports, Michelle started playing soccer at age 8. On the first day,  Michelle’s coach asked who wanted to play goalkeeper. Michelle was the first to ask “Do I have to run?”

The coach responded with a “no” and Michelle quickly grabbed hold of the gloves. Goalkeeper was the perfect position for Michelle for three reasons:

1. It offered the least amount of physical activity

2. It complimented her excellent hand-eye coordination

3. It enabled her to eat her skittles, which were conveniently hidden in her pockets.

Along with soccer, Michelle also thoroughly enjoyed basketball. In fact, it was her favorite sport to play growing up. Unlike soccer, there wasn’t a position like goalkeeper that permitted less running. Michelle was a very talented player, but her fitness was lacking. In 5th grade, her coach took notice and confronted Michelle. In the most polite way possible, the coach told Michelle that she was very skilled, but if she wanted to take it to the next level, then she would have to slim down a bit.

After hearing this statement, Michelle got in the car and bawled her eyes out the entire way home. She honestly had no idea her weight was such a big issue. She was confident in her body. She was filled with love from her family and friends.  She never cared about conforming to society’s idealized perception of being skinny. She did however have a burning desire to continue playing basketball. For this reason, she decided right then that she was going to commit to losing weight.

The next day, Michelle devised her own 5th grade-approved weight loss plan. Knowing very little about nutrition,  she logically assumed that getting rid of fat would make her lose fat.  She knew that she wanted to take it to the next level.  If that meant she needed to lose weight, then she knew she had to take action.  From 5th to 6th grade, she read all the food labels and eliminated any item high in fat. No more butter, avocados, or burgers. But skittles, starbursts, biscuits, and pasta were all acceptable.

Although, solely eliminating fats is not a strategy most nutritionists would prescribe, it did wonders for Michelle. Over the year she slimmed down significantly. In high school, she learned more about proper nutrition and made a conscious effort to eat even healthier.  She’s continued this disciplined approach ever since.

Now at 27, Michelle has taken her nutritional lifestyle to a new level and eats fully Paleo. She made the switch three years ago after a sports nutritionist’s recommendation. Within a week she felt significantly better both physically and mentally.

Michelle believes that the Paleo diet allows her to perform at her best and diligently follows it even when inconvenient, such as when traveling for away games. She’ll arrive at the airport with her backpack fully loaded with almonds, raisins, plantain chips and whatever other paleo-friendly product she can find at the grocery store. On top of that, she’ll fill a Tupperware with tuna and eggs to eat on the plane ride (at the expense of surrounding passenger’s nostrils).

Michelle’s discipline isn’t just restricted to her eating. She is a firm believer that consistent small action cultivates future success. Michelle carries a water bottle around with her everywhere she goes to stay hydrated. She reflects on how she wants her day to go every morning. Before practice she sets performance goals.  She arrives early to the locker room and performs a series of shoulder exercises to insure she’s warmed up properly.  She strikes long balls prior to each session and always has ice baths afterwards. She watches countless soccer matches and studies goalkeeper’s moves. She visualizes specific footwork moves that she wants to perfect. At the end of the day she writes in her journal and devises a plan on how she can improve even more the next day. She’s constantly looking for the next self-improvement books to read.  She is always learning and evolving because she knows that every action is a crucial part of the process towards her success.

From the moment Michelle’s eight year-old self stepped onto the dodgeball court, she’s had an unwavering determination to pursue her passions and better herself. She was never concerned with conforming to societal norms and instead focused on what she wanted to achieve.  Ever since then, she’s been taking diligent, consistent steps to get a little better every day.

Michelle is still a food fanatic. Her obsession with a high quality slab of meat has garnered her the nickname “Queen of Meat.” I’ve never seen a person get more whiled up about Portland’s Cultured Caveman paleo chicken strips. Michelle even has dreams of one day opening a food cart with her mom.

Some things never change, but when people have high goals and a relentless determination, they find a way to a make all their passions align. In Michelle’s case, she found a way to have her steak and eat it too. It doesn’t get much tastier than that.

For more on Michelle Betos:

Arrow Liver: Michelle Betos

Relentless - excerpt, from Michael Jordan's trainer

Tim Grover was the personal trainer of Michael Jordan, and currently boasts clients such as Kobe Bryant, Dwyane Wade, and other NBA greats. In his book, Relentless he outlines what made these players great. It wasn’t their talent, but an insane desire and willingness to do whatever it takes to be the best. There’s numerous excerpts that got me feeling giddy inside. Here’s two:

You cannot understand what it means to be relentless unless you have struggled to possess something that’s just out of your reach. Over and over, as soon as you touch it, it moves farther away. But something inside you-that killer instinct-makes you keep going,reaching, until you finally grab it and fight with all your might to keep holding on. Anyone can take what’s sitting right in front of him. Only when you’re truly relentless can you understand the determination to keep pursuing a target that never stops moving.

No question those who are gifted get to the top faster than anyone else. So what? Is that your excuse for not reaching as high? The challenge is staying there, and most people don’t have the balls to put in the work. If you want to be elite, you have to earn it. Every day, everything you do do. Earn it. Prove it. Sacrifice

Pogo Sticking is the Reason I'm a Professional Athlete

I was recently asked in an interview why I love soccer so much. I’ve thought about this a lot lately. I love the sport itself. The team camaraderie. The winning. The creativity and freedom of expression it allows. But one of the things that’s undoubtedly at the top of the list is the continuous, never-ending improvement that comes from dedicating myself to the sport.  No matter what level I am at, I always feel compelled to give more. I love testing myself to see just how far I can go, especially when times are tough.  I tried to pinpoint when I developed this passion for improving. It brought me back to one distinct moment during my elementary school days, with one of my most prized possessions: my pogo stick.
Growing up, every kid has their thing. Whether its playing with dolls, collecting rocks, or picking boogers, everyone has that one thing that makes them smile just at the thought of it. Mine was pogo sticking. Ever since I opened that present at my 4th grade Flower Power birthday, I would not let the thing out of my site.  My pogo stick was the classic design with a black shaft, one neon green handle, the other handle neon pink, and a replaceable black rubber tip at the bottom for premium traction on the ground.

Pogo sticking didn’t always come easy to me, but I was determined to master the craft. While the average elementary kids spent their Monday morning indoors eating fruity pebbles and watching Sponge Bob, you’d find me in the driveway pogo sticking my heart away. I was always trying to improve my record before the bus showed up.  My first record I tried to beat was 16. Three days later I had reached 47. The next few weeks I’d made my way into the hundreds. A month passed, and now I was pounding out over three hundred consecutive pogoes.

Pogo sticking became easier than taking candy from a baby. I was in need of a challenge.  Something that set me apart from all the ordinary pogo stickers my age. So I started out with the simple, yet classy “no hands.” I did this by squeezing my legs together and grasping the pogo stick between my legs.  A couple weeks of ultra-focused pogo-ing later, and I had perfected that technique as well. I still needed something more.

One afternoon I was rummaging through my garage and found the perfect piece of equipment to take things to the next level; my jump rope. Fourteen mornings of grueling hopping later, and I had the trick down pat.  But I was still hungry to push my limits even further.

It seemed like fate when my 3rd grade brother and his friends asked me to be their guest appearance in their aerobics skit at our Annual Ainsworth Elementary School Talent Show. A 5th grader at the school, I was the top dog and knew this was the optimal opportunity to show the world my dedication and talent.

As the show began, my heart was beating faster than I’ve ever pogo sticked. The largest crowd I’d performed in front of was my two brothers, my parents, and my dog. But here I was about to pogo stick and jump rope center stage in front of a room full of over a hundred people. But I couldn’t let this get to me. I made myself stay calm, because I knew if I psyched myself out too much my palms would get sweaty and Lord knows what that would do to my grip on the pogo stick.

And then it was time. My brother finally cued me to enter the stage “And lets welcome our special guest Stacey Stue!” (that was the name he came up for me. Good one bro).

Here we go, here we go. Time to shine Kendall. I amped myself, and then headed out full steam.  My adrenaline was through the roof, but I willed myself to stay focused.  Jump, turn the rope, jump turn the rope.  I’d made it almost halfway across the stage and everything was going exactly as planned, until all of a sudden I felt my pogo stick lose traction on the wooden floor. As I went to hop the pogo stick flew out from underneath me and I landed smack down on my back. Immediately after, the entire audience, very choir-like, all in unison sang ‘huhhhh!!”

I was petrified. I couldn’t just get up and keep going after something like this. So instead, I just lay there. Motionless. My brother and his friend sat there for a second, looked at me, then each other, and then just proceeded on with their skit. The entire time I’m lying there on the ground in between them thinking “Kendall you idiot! Idiot! Idiot! Why didn’t you change your grip, you should have known all that pogo sticking would wear down the grip.” After about a century, the curtains finally closed, symbolizing what I perceived as the end of my life.

That night as I lay in my Hawaiian pink flowered bed, I glared up at the Big Dipper (of glow-in-the dark stars on my ceiling) and did some serious life evaluating. I had a choice. Let this incident define me, or overcome it.

At this moment, I felt a sharp twinge of pain deep in my bones. And this was more than just the lingering pain from getting obliterated by the wooden floor a few hours ago.  Was I really going to let one fall determine my career? I could never live with myself if I just gave up. I was meant to be an extraordinary pogo sticker and wasn’t going to let this moment bring me down.

The next morning I was back on the pavement hitting harder than ever before. Looking back, this incident was the inauguration of my relentless mindset. It is the reason I am playing soccer professionally today. The reason I didn’t leave the park until I beat my juggling record because I just had to get to 100. It was the reason I ran two laps around the 4 mile Fairmont loop when a coach cut me from the team because I wasn’t fit enough. I didn’t care what I was told, or how it happened, but I had a goal of playing professionally, and made a conscious effort to improve every day.

This is what Arrow Living is all about. It’s about knowing what we want in life and going after it relentlessly. It’s about knowing that we are in complete control of our outcomes, and not letting anything or anyone prevent us from pursuing our dreams.  It’s about using every situation-the good and the bad-to our advantage. The more we struggle, the sweeter it will be when we hit our targets. 

In the meantime, we must continue Arrow Living. Remain focused, continue to learn and adapt,  stay calm and keep hopping on. 

Cheers to Arrow Living. 

Big Changes

182.621 days. 264,974 minutes. 15,778,000 seconds. 6 months is a long time. During this time, I took the approach of upgrading numerous areas of my game. As a result, my half-year long offseason training consisted of a smorgasbord of training environments- playing overseas in Australia, working on my speed and agility, increasing my strength, and practicing with boys teams. And in the midst of this hodge podge of events, I found out some life changing news: I was traded to the Portland Thorns.

Being traded from one team to another is an unusual concept for me to grasp.

At age 10, I joined my first club soccer team. From that moment on I remained loyal to my chosen team, until I was graduating or it was necessary to move on. For me, my team is family. We have each other’s back no matter what. We mess up together, learn together, grow together. Creating these meaningful relationships is one of my favorite things about playing a team sport. The stories away from the ball make playing on the field together substantially more rewarding. It’s moments like when Elizabeth Eddy gave our team a surfing lesson at Point Pleasant beach on our day off.

When Maddie Thompson and I gave our Japanese assistant coach Taka english lessons.

When Christie Rampone’s daughter got revenge after Brittany Cameron smashed a cupcake in her face.

All of these memories collectively created a strong bond, which makes me feel as though I’m leaving part of my family behind. I’m grateful to have played with such special people, and to Sky Blue for fulfilling my childhood dream of becoming a professional soccer player.

With that said, I’m beyond excited for the opportunity to represent my hometown and play for such a highly regarded club in the Portland Thorns.

We’re now two weeks deep into preseason and are coming in hotter than Sriracha sauce with double days, practice games, strength training and the works. Settling into preseason, always takes at least a few days, but the transition into this new team has been smooth sailing so far. For the most part, everyone has been super welcoming and generous. In fact, I can only think of one time in these past few weeks in which I’ve been verbally assaulted by a teammate. And this incident did not take place on the soccer field, but rather in determining who gets which room in our apartment.

This season I’m living with Kat Williamson and Sarah Robbins. Having lived in the same apartment complex before, Kat informed me that there are two regular sized bedrooms and one master bedroom. We decided that the fairest way to solve who gets the big room was to flip a coin. We eliminated Sarah from the toss for the obvious reasons that a) a coin only has two sides and b) she wasn’t arriving for a couple days, so you snooze, you lose. Sorry Sarah, it’s an unfair world out there. Kat and I had come to terms with this agreement via text, and were both eager to get the flippage over with as soon as possible. Sinead Farrelly graciously agreed to be our official virtual coin flipper. She took a video and sent it to us.

Before I could even watch the footage, I saw Kat’s response “Nooooooo”

Victory is always sweet, but honestly, this room is unnecessarily massive. My walk-in closet could be a room in itself. Out of respect to Kat, I feel obligated to put my closet to good use. I’ve contemplated my options throughout this past week and have settled upon a few front runners:

1. buy a miniature pig, turn it into a little barn

2. make my own zen meditation center filled with fresh, live greenery and a water feature

3. get a strobe light, blast the tunes, make a miniature club out of the joint.

As of now, I’m leaning towards the zen meditation center, but any other ideas are greatly appreciated.

A few hours after the coin flip, Kat informed me that she had gotten us wifi and had created our wifi name/password in honor of me. I was tickled, until I saw her wifi username choice. Take a guess at which one is ours….

Someone is still a little bitter. Kat if you are reading this, I want you to know that you are always welcome to come down and use my meditation center anytime you like to let off some steam. All I ask is that you remove your shoes and negativity before entering.

It’s stories as simple as deciding who gets what room in an apartment that make playing for a team, regardless of the team, so rewarding. My past teammates all played a special part in making me who I am today, and I’m excited for the memorable times ahead with my new Portland teammates.

March 9th marked the start of preparation for our 6 month season. 6 months is a lot of time. Enough time to complete 128 practices. Enough time to play 20 regular season games. Enough time to get my mind fully right in in my zen meditation closet. Enough time to form a new family. And if all that goes well, enough time to win a championship.

How Not to Prepare for a Colonoscopy

They say colonoscopies are for old people. First off, that’s extremely offensive. The American Cancer Society recommends getting a colonoscopy beginning at age 50. My mom is in her 50’s and she has made it very clear that she is not old. She radiates wisdom, beauty, and youthfulness. Don’t worry mom I got your back. Secondly, I would still consider myself a spring chicken, and I had to get a colonoscopy the other day. And despite my optimism and best effort to prepare properly, things don’t always turn out as planned.

With my appendicitis issue in Australia (If you missed that drama read here:https://medium.com/@kendelish/my-hospital-visit-and-lessons-from-the-legendary-lillypad-fb12dc0b95ea) my doctor encouraged me to get a colonoscopy to make sure that nothing conspicuous is going on up in there. About a week ago, I met with the doctor and scheduled my colonoscopy for the next Monday. Before I left the office, the receptionist sat me down in her cubicle to go over some details of the exam.

“Discontinue any herbs and supplements you are currently taking. No nuts or seeds, for five days. This includes fruits and veggies such as tomatoes, strawberries…”

Being a nut fiend, my mind went spastic. No more almond butter!? No more roasted hazelnuts!? No more trail mix!? You might as well slice off my right arm while you’re at it! After 10 seconds of rapid psychotic thoughts, I realized this was only for a few days. I gained back my focus while the receptionist was in the midst of saying something about a clear liquid diet. She then went on to explain that I needed to pop some pills, buy 10 fl ounces of some magnesium potion, and mix an entire container of Miralax in 64 fl ounces of gatorade. I was to drink half of this torturous concoction beginning at 6pm on Sunday for the next two hours. Then, consume the other half at 1:30 am for two hours, followed by 24 more ounces of clear liquids. Uncontrollable bowel movements would naturally follow.

I left the office uninspired and already missing my nuts. But then, a brilliant thought struck my brain. I’ve been on the Whole30 diet (essentially paleo with a few exceptions) for the past two months to help relieve some digestion issues. I have refrained from sweets for 2 months. This is a pretty large feat for me. I normally eat healthy and enjoy it, but I also have a massive sweet tooth. Like tyrannosaurus rex sized. Leave me unsupervised in the kitchen, and I become an uncontrollable sugar-craving monster, devouring anything sweet in my path. With that said, I believe everyone should indulge in what they love. I love food and if I’m going to have to clean out my entire system in three days, then now is the perfect opportunity to treat myself. So treat myself I did.

The few days of fro-yo, burgers, and chocolate went by faster than a McDonalds drive-in. Before I knew it, it was Sunday, the day leading up to my big day. I was on the coast surfing with my friends (side note, surfing is my new obsession. I’ve only been a few times, but if I could have a do-over, I would highly contemplate devoting my life to surfing. I suck, but it’s just so much fun. I’ll save surfing for another post).

We spent the day shreddin’ the gnar, which for them meant catching waves, for me it meant getting tossed countless times in mother nature’s washing machine. My friends packed along peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, which was off limits for me. I began simultaneously salivating and shaking (unclear whether or not this was due to nut withdrawals or my cold, ocean-wet body) as I watched them down their pb and j’s. The only thing that kept me from socking them all in the face was the knowledge that I’d be forcing them to make a pitstop at Dairy Queen on the way home. It had been on my mind all weekend. In terms of desserts, it doesn’t get much better than a blizzard (a pizookie from BJs, Peach Wave fro-yo with ample toppings, and Salt N Straw snickerdoodle ice cream on a waffle cone are the only rivals I can think of). A Silk Pie Blizzard would be my last supper.

We wrapped up surfing and were on our way to DQ at around 5:00. I was supposed to begin drinking my magic potions at 6:00, and we had only just began our 90 minute drive home. I was a smidge behind schedule, but it wasn’t a big deal.

As I cherished each bite of my Blizzard, I decided to look up the colonoscopy prep details to get myself mentally prepared for the eventful night ahead of me. As I was looking up the information I had a sudden recollection of the receptionist mentioning something about a clear liquid diet. As this thought popped into my head, I inhaled another heaping spoonful of my Blizzard. At this exact moment, my mom called.

“Kendall have you been on the clear liquid diet you are supposed to be on today?” Oops.

I immediately called my doctor to confess my inability to follow directions. He informed me that I was the third person to call him today in regards to messing up the preparation diet. I think that fact was meant to make me feel better, but really it just made me question the intelligence of our country. He explained that young and healthy people, like myself, are usually fine if they falter on the preparation because our inner-workings function quite wonderfully. He then instructed me to drink twice as much Magnesium Citrate. That wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear, but if I can bypass an entire day of not eating, then by golly I’d bathe myself in 10 gallons of that stuff.

When I arrived home, it was game time. No messing around. I went to the store, bought my extra substances, then began the production. Multiple friends had warned me how awful this preparation is. This all-nighter would surely be a bit different than the the ones I had back in middle school with my soccer team, but my competitive nature propelled me to prove my friends wrong. This was going to be a euphoric occasion, a right of passage, if you will.

I chugged my first bout of Magnesium Citrate, whose taste can only be described as Sour Patch Kids gone terribly wrong. Next, I mixed my gatorade and Miralax concoction into the most elegant glass vase I could find. I popped my pills, then headed to my lavatory. I adorned my feet with my fuzziest pair of cotton socks, lit a lemon verbena scented candle, turned on some Norah Jones, gathered my Kindle, situated myself atop my throne, and the rest is history.

The night wasn’t nearly as bad as my wussypants friends had conveyed. Not only did I clear my internal passageways, I also performed a deep cleaning of my room, closet, and iTunes library. If anyone wants an all-around purifying experience, I highly recommend scheduling a colonoscopy.

It was now time to finish the last and easiest piece of the puzzle; a trip to the clinic, a quick sedation, a peaceful nap, and I’d wake up feeling like a new woman. My mother graciously drove me to my appointment. We strolled into the office, checked in, and within a matter of minutes the nurse was there to begin the final act. This was all too easy. Before the nurse took my vitals, he asked to take a gander at my bowels. A peculiar question, but there’s a first for everything. I complied and the nurse came back with an unsettling look on his face.

Apparently, I wasn’t cleared out enough, so they could not do the procedure today. I was instructed to go home and start the entire preparation process over again. No nuts, no seeds, no food for the rest of the day. And then I had to go to the store, stock up on massive amount of laxatives, chug them, and spend the night once again on my throne.

As much as I wanted to be mad at the nurse, I couldn’t. This was 100% my fault. Ever since kindergarten, teachers and the like have told us to carefully read all of the instructions. This was a very unfortunate circumstance to disregard such advice.

It’s my sincerest wish that this story saves future colonoscopers from making the same mistake. However, if you are the rebel type and want to follow in my footsteps, then I definitely understand. You’ll walk away having consumed the best Blizzard of your life, have a spotless clean room, a renewed appreciation for reading instructions, and become a member of the elite group who can say they’ve guzzled down two whole bottles of Miralax in two days. Now if that’s not a feat to be proud of, then I don’t know what is. Cheers to feeling more purified than ever before!

The Portlandiest Thing I've Witnessed in my Entire Portland Existence

Coffee shops are my jam. I’m a big fan of ambiance, and without fail, a positive vibed java shop gets my creative juices flowing. There’s something about the harmonious combination of small talk, coffee grinding, and Jack Johnson-esque music playing in the background that just warms my soul. On top of that, I love the people. Each person is casually yet intently, secludedly yet communally, immersed in a conversation, work project, book, etc.

I’m fond of coffee shops across the nation, but Portland is especially invigorating because it hosts the widest breed of people imaginable. Every excursion onto the streets of Portland I anticipate seeing at least one bearded lady riding a unicycle, with a pet alpaca-or something equivalent in weirdness. I have similar expectations for coffee shops. And on this particular visit, I witnessed one of the most Portlandy things I’ve ever seen. Having spent all but two years of my life in Portland I am very aware of the boldness of this statement, but I stand by my word. And I’d like to share my experience with you all.

Upon entering the coffee shop, I scanned the entire premise to strategically pick my ultimate seating area. At the top of my list of seating requirements are comfortable chair, high quality air flow (not too hot, not too cold), lighting (preferably natural), positive vibes (based off of the feeling in my soul) and people-watching visibility.

After evaluating my options based on the above criteria, I settled for an extra cushiony chair in the back corner. To the left of me was a side table, separating another comfy chair. It was occupied by a nice, semi-nerdy looking guy, whom I later learned went by Mike. Across from us, were two chairs facing our way, as if to facilitate a social gathering. The guy adjacent to me was an ordinary looking business man who was working on his laptop. He’s irrelevant in this story, but deserves a shoutout.

The guy across from Mike was a bleach blond, lip-ringed 24 year-old who repped a three-sizes too large white V-neck, saggy cargo pants, purple nike high tops, and a red backwards baseball cap. I can only hope one of his friends has nominated him to be a participant on an upcoming episode of “What Not To Wear.” I didn’t catch his name, but for the sake of the story let’s call him Volcom. Volcom started chatting up Mike. From my dutiful eavesdropping, I gathered that both of these guys were fairly new in town and looking to make friends. After the generic, What’s your name?-how old are you?-where are you from?-what do you do? exchange, Volcom asked Mike if he had a Facebook. A bit forward for my taste, but I admired his style. Mike did indeed have an account, and within a minute, they made their friendship “Facebook official.”

They started talking about girls and Volcom exclaims “oh no dude I’ll Facebook you this story!” So they then resorted to communicating back and forth via Facebook, even though they were sitting a mere three feet across from one another. Every once in a while, they would make eye contact and chuckle. Hold upppp…what has this world come to!?? Technology has overpowered our lives to the extent that people can’t even have an in-person conversations in-person anymore?

No longer able to listen in on their conversation, I continued working on my laptop. I was in the midst of responding to an email, when this skinny jeaned, dreaded, light brown skinned man paced behind my chair. He plopped a brass cooking pot on the coffee table in between Mike and I, and then proceeded to sit down on the floor. First off, personal space invaded. Secondly, since when is it it normal to sit on the floor of a coffee shop (answer: in Portland). And thirdly, what on Earth is in that pot? Admittedly, my initial thought was that there was some sort of illegal drugs brewing up in there.

He quickly answered the question for me, uncovering the lid. “Alright man, here we go…”, He reached into the pot and extracted a heaping handful of, none other than….alfalfa sprouts. I laugh out loud, extremely confused about what was going on. He then dug into his pocket and began unraveling a wad of paper towels. Amidst the paper was a ginormous seed-filled cracker. He pulls out yet another container full of hummus and lathers it onto the cracker.

After the preparation was complete, he explained, “Alright this has got all that goody good stuff. It’s got that sprouted flax seeds, sprouted chia seeds, sprouted buckwheat, sprouted sesame seeds. You let all that goodness soak overnight and pull out all it’s nutrients. It’s like a health infusion man! Take one bite of this and it’ll get all that bad s#!t out of your system. It’s like liquid fiber man, coursing through your veins!”

Without a word, the guy got up and went to retrieve something. Meanwhile, Volcom and I both stared at the conspicuous creation, completely dumbfounded.

Thankfully, Volcom broke the tension asking “Yo, who is that guy?” Mike casually explained that his name is Christian and he’s a transient  who has been trying to get him to eat healthier for the past few months.

Before I had time to process this information, Christian returned. “Wait man, I forgot the spices and juniper berries!” He sprinkled the final missing ingredients atop the sprouts and waited for Mike to take a bite. Bless Mike’s soul, he took a bite and pretended to like it.

A few moments later, Christian bid Mike farewell and offered one last parting sentiment, “Dude tomorrow you are going to wake up feeling like whaaaa!?”

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81DLUQWXhpI

This exchange all happened way too fast for me to process my sentiments at the time, but I’ve now fully dissected its significance. Christian; a wholesome man without a home, who sprouts his own seeds and grains in a brass pot, and chooses to spend whatever money he has on juniper berries and exotic spices. Mad respect all around. This is why I love Portland. People follow their passions, however unconventional they may be. Everyone is friendly (Mike and Volcom are now lifetime Facebook friends), accepting of each person’s uniqueness (all three guys embraced the weirdness), and open to trying new things (Mike gave Christian’s concoction a taste). Portland is the ultimate platform for success. The city allows people to openly convey their true thoughts and pursue their passion. And because of this I have no doubt that Christian is going to positively impact and promote healthy habits across the the Rose City , one alfalfa sprout at a time.

Keep Portland Weird ya’ll! It’s good to be back.

-KJ

ps. I have officially begun my search to find my favorite Portland coffee shop. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

Pregnancy Scare

I’ve always wondered what it would be like to give birth to a baby. I hear all sorts of stories about how painful, yet incredibly rewarding the entire process is once you finally have that precious baby in your hands. I personally am not at a time in my life to be popping out little minions quite yet. However, this weekend I was fairly convinced that I was indeed knocked up. And it all started out with a trip to Dos Senoritos.

It was a sun-filled Saturday afternoon when Keelin and I were at the local Gladesville library copping their free wifi, until our other roomie Hannah was due to pick us up for a day at Manly beach. We were both on our computers when we locked eyes with one another. We’ve been with each other long enough now to decipher that we were both hungry. Keelin and I are the kind of people who turn Amanda Bynes crazy if we aren’t properly nourished at all times. This was one of the rare instances in which we were both traveling without our handy dandy snack packs. Our stomachs were starting to growl and we figured it would be in everyone’s best interest to feed the lion within us before it got ahold of anyone else. I was just about to suggest going to this Mexican place we’ve been wanting to try, when Keelin took the words right out of my mouth. We’re kindred spirits I tell you. We got super amped up about our mutual desire, jumped out of our seats, and headed over to Dos Senoritos.

Australia isn’t known for their pristine Mexican food. In fact, it is known for subpar Mexican food. But this place had gotten above average reviewson Yelp, and we’d both been craving some good ol’ fashion chips and tacos. Upon opening the door, I immediately digged the vibe. The walls were covered in paintings of skeletons, maracas, cartoons, and the works. Mexican music was playing in the background. The cherry on top was that they had sombrero’s you could wear while dining. The whole setup gave me a sudden urge to skip the beach in exchange for salsa dancing in the restaurant all day, but I’d already made a prior commitment.

We munched on some tortilla chips until our tacos were ready, and then headed out the door for Hannah and the girls to pick us up. We ended up having one too many people in the car, so I willingly hopped in the back, where I could lay down and peacefully devour my tacos with minimal distractions. Somewhere in the midst of inhaling my greasy tacos and being sprawled out across the trunk of the car, I started feeling light headed, nauseous, and crampy. I know I am no doctor, but that’s what the internet is for, and I took the liberty of looking up these new sensations. When I typed in the google search bar “cramps, upset stomach, nausea symptoms”, it immediately generated links to pregnancy. I’m no fool, and knew that this impossible but as time progressed I started second guessing myself.

The cramps persisted the entire car ride, and jerkiness in the back definitely didn’t help. Luckily we were headed to the beach, where I could lay down and let my worries wash away in the ocean waves. The serene ambiance did indeed distract me from my pain for quite some time. We relaxed on the beach for a few hours and then took a ferry ride back home. I swear the beauty of nature has the ability to distract you from even the worst symptoms.

When we arrived home in the evening, I decided to make myself a nice big salad. I usually lick my plate clean after my meals (I’ve literally been caught licking my plate clean), but tonight I couldn’t even finish all of it. I felt guilty for letting the niblets go to waste, but after researching online, I knew that loss of appetite was unfortunately a symptom of pregnancy. Again, I shrugged off this notion, knowing it was highly unlikely, but the following day raised my doubts furthermore.

I decided to go to bed extra early that night because our team was flying to Brisbane early tomorrow morning. My team flies to our playing destination on the day of our game, then we fly back to Sydney immediately after playing. I’m not used to such a quick turnaround, so I figured the extra rest would help prepare me a little bit better.

At about 3am, I awoke from a shark attack nightmare. Turns our there were no sharks in sight, but it felt like some jackass was simultaneously kneading and stabbing my internal organs with an exacto knife. My first contractions!? I slept restlessly for the rest of the night, eventually waking up to my 6am alarm clock.

I was groggy after my abysmal sleep, but mustered up all my energy for our day of travel. The plane ride induced a mixture of hot and cold flashes. I happened to get assigned a middle seat sandwiched between my two teammates, Sham and Grace. I warned them that there was 72% change I’d be using the barf bag on the flight. They chuckled that I called this projectile substance “barf” instead of “vomit” or “yak” or “spew”. I thought to myself,I don’t think these Australians will be laughing once I yak-vom-spew-barf all over their faces. Fortunately, I was able to withhold any flight spewings by assuming the fetal position.

When we landed, we drove straight to a cafe for a pre-game meal. My order was extremely unintelligent for an upset stomach: smoked salmon, hashbrowns, and fruit. Aside form the fruit, none of that sounded good in my tummy. Thankfully, I had brought along one of my famous snack packs and chose to consume a milder meal of rice cakes and peanut butter. At the restaurant, I double checked with Keelin what time our game commenced since there was a one hour time difference from Sydney to Brisbane. She told me 2:00 pm. I calculated that I had 3 hours before the whistle blew to let my food digest. I consumed a hearty amount in attempt to fill the holey sensations in my stomach. The food made me feel better, but very full. The food settled my stomach and I I started to feel like I was being overly dramatic about this whole situation.

We arrived at the locker room with plenty of time to spare. I took my sweet time going through my pre-game routine-foam rolling, listening to music, brushing my teeth, the usual. I was getting my neck massaged by our trainer, when our head coach Norm began his ritual pre-game spiel. I thought it was strange he was giving his talk at 12:10, almost 2 hours before kickoff, but I went with it. He metaphorically talked about how we needed to put our 0–4 record in the past, and then finished his pep talk with “now let’s go out there and get a good warm-up in!”

Huh? I got extremely confused as I watched all my teammates get up and walk out to the field. I asked my coach why we were going out so early, and he responded that this was how early we usually go out. Turns out, I was given false information by my American comrade (that beeyotch!) and our kickoff was actually at 1:00pm. I hadn’t even put on my socks yet and my food was still sloshing around in my stomach. There was nothing I could do about it now though, so I laced up my cleats and headed out the door with a reframed mindset.

It was at the precise moment in which I stepped on the field to warmup in which I became 82% certain that there was another person, let’s call him Jerry, in my stomach. By the time the whistle blew, Jerry was weighing in at approximately 11 pounds and was kicking at my gut as if he wanted to join in on the game. I contemplated telling our trainer that I needed to head straight to the delivery room. Yet something inside of me (now that I reflect back, it was probably Jerry) told me to keep going. So I pushed-or didn’t push depending on how you look at it-through. We ended up scoring first, only to concede a goal at the end of the first half. At halftime, I went to the restroom to control my contractions, took a few deep breaths, and then headed back out there for the second half. About midway through, we received a corner kick on the right side. This was my side to take the kick, but my stomach was churning like crazy. I told Jerry to pull himself together, and we jogged over to the corner flag. I took three steps backwards, than whipped in a cross that went flying to a player who miraculously headed the ball into the back of the net. That girl happened to be on the other team…but a goal’s a goal!Jerry seemed happy because he cooled his jets a bit, but we still had 30 minutes left. It was a scrappy, gutsy 30 minutes, that couldn’t come by faster. I was about to wave the white flag, but then it happened. The whistle blew, and we gave birth to sweet sweet victory! I have never felt such an intense combination of pain and joy in those few seconds. We had secured our first win!

Hannah, Keelin, and I arranged a flight back to Sydney for a couple days later so we could celebrate the big life event. The next day, we biked around the city until the afternoon and then got on the bus for the highlight of trip. We ventured to the Lone Pine Koala sanctuary where we got to hold a koala, spoon a kangaroo, ride and Emu, and so so so much more. It was one of the most magical experiences I’ve ever been a part of.

Looking back, there’s a small chance I may have gotten food poisoning from Dos Senoritos rather than being pregnant, but that’s neither here nor there. Amidst the pain and struggle, this was a weekend for the record books. I’d like to commend all you mother’s out there who have come out alive through the process. I am very grateful for what you went through, but I also see that it is all worth it in the end. These days taught me the pure beauty that comes with bringing a child into this world, but most importantly, that one should never ever have Mexican food while visiting Australia.

P.S I’d like to give a COLOSSAL shout out to our Wanderers trainer Donna, who after reading my prior blog, assembled me a care package filled with peanut butter, rice cakes, granola bars, and drum roll please…. a blender! Words cannot describe the bliss this masterpiece has brought me in the morning, especially on days like my pregnancy scare. I am forever indebted to Donna. I graciously accept all gifts with open arms. Message me for further inquiries.