Your goal isn’t too big...

When I lived in New Zealand, I had no money.

I was 23 or 24—can’t fully remember. I think* I was 24 because I am pretty sure I threw a birthday party called “re-23,” which was chaotic and on-brand.

Regardless of my exact age, I was broke.

(Rich in optimism, spandex, and bad ideas, though. I was dating an ex-Australian pop star who was approximately 900 years older than me. My life choices were immaculate.)

I lived on ramen, toast, and whatever drink my bartender friend would slip me for free.

Also, I lived about a mile out of town—in the actual mountains. Cute, right?

Every now and then, I’d crack.

I didn’t want to haul laundry up a damn mountain after melting my lace panties in a laundromat dryer.

So I’d call a cab.
(There was no Uber back in the olden days. I am, in fact, ancient.)

Anyway, I’d spend what little money I had because I was lazy and didn’t want to walk. Classic.

Fast forward a few years...

I was back in the U.S., had retired from my American Apparel spandex era, and was now a wife and mom.

But one thing didn’t change…

If I wanted to grab a breakfast burrito from McLain's (the world’s best bakery), which was like 500 feet from our house, I wouldn’t walk.

I’d get in the car and drive.

So when I told my husband I wanted to run the New York City Marathon…

He nearly peed his pants laughing.
Honestly? Same. I was just as shocked.

But here’s the twist:

I ran it.

All 26.2 miles.

The kicker?

The marathon wasn’t even the most impressive part.
The training was where the magic happened.

When I started to train, I googled:

“How to train for a marathon when you’re lazy and have never run before.”
(Iconic search history, I know.)

Google? Useless.
Every result said:

“Just run 3 miles to start!”

There was just one problem:
I couldn’t run 3 miles. Not even close.

Every time I tried, it felt like my knees would explode, my uterus would fall out, and I was one gag away from barfing in public.

Naturally, I was venting about this at a kid’s birthday party to a friend’s brother—who happened to be one of those people who runs for fun and does Ironmans. 

He told me about KC Endurance, run by a husband-and-wife duo who literally train people to run. (Wild concept, I know.)

I emailed them immediately and booked a session with Jessica.

Guess what Jessica had me do?

She didn’t tell me to run 3 miles.
She told me to run 1 minute, then walk 1 minute.

That’s it.

I did that for what felt like weeks.
Minute by minute, I built up until I could run 3 miles without my insides attempting to evacuate.

And honestly? I started to enjoy it.
This hard thing I was trying to do… felt good.

Eventually, by the end of training, I was waking up at 4 a.m. to run 18 miles—and I was excited about it.

Sometimes the 70-year-old man I saw every morning running didn’t lap me!

And when Asheer and I ran the marathon together, he was actually scared I’d beat him.

(Jessica, my running coach, made me scary. Which is something I’ve always wanted to be, but have never pulled off.)

So why am I telling you this?

Because here’s the real lesson:

Sometimes the first step we set for our “dream” goal is just too damn big.

Same goes for art. Same goes for life.

Don’t start with:

“Paint 13 pieces for a gallery show in 30 days.”

Start with:

“Paint for 5 minutes a day.”

Wanna write?
Don’t start with:

“I’m launching a substack tomorrow.”

Start by writing 1 sentence a day for 30 days.

I’m a binge-writer. So I struggle with this…

I’ve been trying to build a daily writing practice, by just writing 1 sentence a day.

I use this journal for that. It’s perfect.

I know it’s very hard to start small.

It goes against everything we’ve been taught—especially if you’re American.

GO BIG OR GO HOME!

But starting small with just one step…

Is the key to massive transformation.

That’s what running taught me.

I didn’t start with 3 miles.
I started with 1 minute. Just 1.

Then I added another. And another.
Minute by minute, step by step —
I built momentum. I built miles.

Eventually, those 1-minute runs became 18 miles.
And then 26.2.

Not overnight. Not with a bang.
But with consistency.

One small, tiny, unsexy step at a time.

And guess what?
That’s enough.

❤️ XOXO,

Kayti

P.S. Thinking smaller is hard—especially when your dreams are huge.

That’s why I brainwash myself constantly with books written by people smarter than me.

One I’m obsessed with?
Gentle by Courtney Carver.

She tells this story about how her daughter wanted to become an avid reader.
Instead of starting with “read 10 books”, she started with “read 1 sentence a day.”

So small it sounds like it wouldn’t matter.

Now she devours books.

Tiny steps. Room to grow. It works.

If you need some gentle brainwashing too, check out Courtney’s book here. 

(Not an affiliate link—just a damn good book I think you’ll love.)

P.P.S. Want some of the world’s best cookies from my favorite bakery, McLain’s?
Just refer a few readers to Paper Ghosts—it’s stupid easy, and honestly, you deserve snacks.