Growth Beyond Obstacles

On July 4th, as fireworks light up the sky in Port Clinton, Ohio, I’ll be running—not just for a medal, not just for the endorphins, not even just for fitness. I’ll be running for my freedom. Emotional freedom. Mental freedom. Freedom from the ghosts of my past. This upcoming 5K, the Star-Spangled Squirt Gun Run, marks more than just another milestone on my race calendar. It represents a declaration of independence from every version of me that didn’t think she was enough.

The Girl Who Started It All

I remember the girl who used to scroll through race photos and think, “I could never do that.” I remember the way she hid behind oversized clothes, behind smiles that didn’t quite reach her eyes, behind food that numbed the pain. That girl? She deserved so much love. And today, I honor her by doing the very things she was convinced she couldn’t.

160+ pounds gone. Countless mental battles fought. A body transformed. But here’s the thing no one tells you: weight loss doesn’t automatically unlock confidence. In fact, it often invites a new kind of discomfort.

Yes, I’ve shed weight. But I’ve also gained visibility. And with that has come a new level of self-consciousness I never expected. I feel it in the way I move, in how clothes hug my frame, in the way strangers stare just a second too long. Loose skin replaced the layers I used to hide beneath, and while my health has improved, my comfort with my own reflection is still catching up.

The Insecurity I Didn’t See Coming

“She lost the weight. She must be so confident now.”

That’s what people assume. But what they don’t see is the tug-of-war happening underneath it all.

I haven’t been showing up online like I used to. My videos stopped getting views. My blog interactions stalled. And part of me wondered if people were tired of hearing about the journey—if maybe it wasn’t worth sharing anymore. Add in the chaos of working two jobs, attending grad school full-time, managing my post-op care, and simply trying to breathe, and I felt paralyzed.

There were days I wanted to record my workouts, days I had thoughts I wanted to blog, but I couldn’t get past my own inner critic whispering, “No one cares. You’re not enough. You don’t look like them.”

But I made a promise—to myself, and to anyone following me on this journey—to be transparent. To tell the truth, not just the highlight reel. And the truth is… I’ve been struggling. I’ve been feeling stuck in a body that’s changing faster than my mindset can catch up. I’ve been self-conscious. And I’ve been quiet when I should have been honest.

So here I am, reclaiming my voice.

Why the 5K Matters

My first 5K taught me I could finish something that once felt impossible. My second showed me that consistency matters more than speed. And now this third race, happening on Independence Day, feels like a turning point.

The Star-Spangled Squirt Gun Run isn’t just about finishing. It’s about freedom. Running gives me peace. It lets me move through the emotions I can’t always express in words. It lets me be present in a body I’m still learning to love. It silences the noise and helps me connect with the version of myself who doesn’t care what anyone else thinks—because she knows she’s doing something extraordinary.

This race is symbolic. Not because it’s on a holiday. But because it reminds me I’ve come so far from the version of myself who used to run from pain instead of through it.

Chasing a Better Life

One of the quotes I used in a recent TikTok said:

“Chasing after a better life, running full speed, no looking back, I really don’t care who is with me and who is not with me anymore… because I’m done with the baggage, I’m done keeping score. People come and go—that’s how that goes. But I’m focused on my path where my passion flows.”

Those words aren’t just a vibe—they’re my truth.

I’ve spent too much of my life trying to shrink myself—not just physically, but emotionally. I’ve tiptoed around other people’s comfort, sacrificed my own peace to maintain relationships that were weighing me down, and silenced my own needs to be palatable.

Not anymore.

I’m done with the baggage.

I’m done keeping score.

If you’re not riding with me on this journey, that’s okay. I’m not bitter. I’m just free.

A deeper connection with my body An ability to push past fear A clearer sense of who I am and what I want The understanding that I don’t need external validation to keep moving

What Happens After July 4th?

After Port Clinton, there’s a pause.

My next 5K isn’t scheduled until September—and honestly, I’m grateful for the space. Not because I need a break from running, but because I need to reset. To train with intention. To reconnect with the part of me that doesn’t run for performance—but for peace.

This gap in races is also a chance to reflect on everything I’ve gained that can’t be measured in miles or minutes:

I promised myself I would run at least five 5Ks in 2025—and I’m well on track. But more than that, I promised myself I’d stay committed to my why.

I’m Not Living for Anyone Else

I used to worry so much about what people thought of me. Their comments. Their opinions. Their silence. I let it dictate how I saw myself, how I shared my story, how I showed up online and in life. But not anymore.

“I’m done living for the ghost of my past.

I’m done with the story that never lasts.”

What they say about me? That’s their story. Not mine.

I know who I am.

I know what I’ve overcome.

I know where I’m headed.

And I know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be in this moment. With the loose skin. With the self-doubt. With the messy healing. With the victory of just showing up—because that’s enough.

A Letter to Anyone Who Feels Behind

To the person feeling stuck in their journey…

To the one who thought they’d be more confident by now…

To the one who’s wondering if it’s even worth it…

I see you. I am you. And I want to remind you:

Progress isn’t always visible. Sometimes the biggest wins happen in silence. In choosing not to quit. In putting on your shoes and showing up to walk or run, even when the world feels heavy. In saying “no” to what no longer serves you and “yes” to your peace.

This 5K? It’s just one race.

But it represents a thousand quiet moments of resilience.

Grace Over Perfection

I haven’t been perfect on this journey. I’ve missed uploads. I’ve skipped writing. I’ve ghosted my own goals at times. But I haven’t stopped. And that’s what matters.

I’m learning to give myself grace. To stop measuring my worth in productivity. To stop apologizing for taking time to breathe.

Because healing takes time. And transformation isn’t just physical—it’s mental, spiritual, and emotional too.

Looking Ahead: September and Beyond

I don’t know what my pace will be in September. I don’t know how many people will cheer for me on the sidelines. But I do know this:

I will show up.

I will keep running.

I will keep telling the truth.

And I will keep chasing a life that feels like freedom.

Whether that’s through 5Ks, late-night writing sessions, vulnerable blog posts, or TikToks that barely reach a hundred views—I will keep showing up.

Because this isn’t about fame. It’s about freedom.

Final Thoughts

If you’ve made it to the end of this post—thank you. Thank you for being part of a journey that’s messy, real, and deeply human. The Star-Spangled Squirt Gun Run might be my next 5K, but it’s just another step toward the life I’m building—one of purpose, peace, and passion.

Let this be your reminder, too:

You are allowed to outgrow people, places, and even old versions of yourself.

You are allowed to be proud of the messy middle.

You are allowed to take up space—in your body, in your voice, in your life.

Here’s to running toward joy, shedding the weight of other people’s opinions, and chasing dreams with everything we’ve got.

See you at the starting line, Port Clinton.

Until next time

Kaylee Ann