Six Sentence Sunday

She’s sure that when she was a girl, she hated running.


Pinching the bridge of her nose, Dallas shakes her head to force the hazy memories away.

Twisting from one side to the other, her back cracks and she bends down, tightens the laces on her running shoes before she takes off again. Her path is lit by the full moon that hangs heavily off to the side, dipping ever closer to the horizon as sunrise nears.

She runs to a tiny bungalow a mile off, rolls her eyes at the sight of the lights blazing through the curtain-clad windows.

Sunday Six Pinterest.png


You know that feeling you get when there’s something you have to do but you do.not.want. to do it?

While that may or not be the current status of my life, my bigger problem is when I try to do something that I KNOW I have to do, but would rather just curl up in my bed and hide with my four-legged roommate.

This is an unfortunately super vague post, mostly because I can’t talk about certain things yet AND need to vent.

Another great crisis of my life.

And now that I’ve word-vomited to the universe about absolutely nothing, it’s time to go back to actual work.

-Kathryn, the currently extremely anxious Fake Redhead

#TBT, or Why I Love My Job

Recently, the team I worked with lost a tough match, wrapping up a tough week.

I know I used the word tough twice in that last sentence, but it’s been a tough time. (Twice again, sorry not sorry.)

It’s never easy to lose, especially with such high stakes as college volleyball in the Pac-12 Conference (yes, I know the Big Ten is awesome; the collegiate landscape is a post for another day), but it’s even more difficult to lose at home in front of friends and family.

First serve wasn’t until eight at night, and that’s already way past my bedtime, so I was prepared to wait out the team meeting, take my requested student-athletes and coach to media, wrap up my night, and go home.

That’s not what happened, and what did is exactly why I love my job.

I was on my way to the tunnel when I saw the team coming back down stairs. A couple of them looked at me, and said, “we want to sign autographs, the fans have been asking.”

While I was aware that we weren’t signing autographs that night—remember when I said it was late?—who am I to say no?

So of course I didn’t. I found my colleague from marketing and asked her to go get them some markers.

Now these young ladies didn’t have to come out after losing to one of the top-10 teams in the country, after losing their 12th consecutive set. No one would have faulted them for heading off to the locker room for a few minutes before they headed off to see their friends and families, but the fans were asking and they wanted to answer the call.

And the line of fans who stayed after the match wrapped around the court.

For me, it was the fantastic cap to a really mediocre day. Not only am I not the biggest fan of late night match starts (see also: a post for another day), but I was extremely stressed about life. It’s my current status, hell, it’s my constant status. Also, I was really excited to wear my Steve Madden lace-up heels, only to discover I only brought the right shoe, along with the right foot of one of my Tom’s wedges. So I had to wear flats that kind of didn’t really match my outfit.

Did I mention I was tired?

But my student-athletes managed to turn around my mood by doing something that had nothing to do with me. It shows just what kind of ladies we have here, and it’s moments like these that I could not be more proud to help promote this program and this athletic department.

Speaking of home games, two more coming up, the first of six we have this month. It’s going to be one long ride.

– Kathryn, the Fake Redhead

Welcome To November

If the month of November doesn’t kill me, it’s safe to say that I’ll (hopefully) be able to survive anything that life throws in my general direction.

I’ve got six home volleyball matches to cover, one of the more difficult team road trips to the state of Washington in just about a week and a half, and a whole host of things that I’m not allowed to talk about yet in the works.

Right now, the greatest crisis of my life IS my life, so I might as well start chronicling it.

Wish me luck.

And can someone out there remind me to eat on a regular basis?


– Kathryn, the Fake Redhead