hi, i’m katie.

The lanky brunette currently gracing your screen is none other than me, Katie! Here, I’m giving you a peek into my 29 years of glorious highs and rocky lows—let’s just say it’s been quite the ride!

my story.

Remember those rocky lows? Yeah, this is kind of the big one…

When I was 11, I suddenly and without warning found myself facing acute renal failure, or as I like to call it, "kidney failure." Both of my kidneys decided to take an unexpected vacation, resulting in a full-on body shutdown. Cue emergency flight to Starship Children’s Hospital in Auckland, where I was rushed straight into surgery to be hooked up to a dialysis machine—basically a life support system for my blood.

I don't remember much from the whole experience, mostly because I was floating in and out of consciousness like a confused sleepwalker. What I do remember? Being loaded onto a stretcher, gripping my mum’s hand on the plane like I was holding on for dear life (which, let’s be honest, I kind of was), and staring at the elevator ceiling as we ascended to the operating room. Very dramatic.

Over the next few weeks, doctors came and went, all with furrowed brows, peering at my charts like they were solving the world’s biggest mystery. They theorized, they reassured, and they dropped hints that things would improve soon. But as the days turned into weeks and nothing really changed, the optimism started to fizzle out. Eventually, they stopped telling us what was going on, probably because they didn’t have much to say beyond “we’re not sure what’s happening here.”

So, yeah. That was one of the more memorable moments of my 29 years.

sick…ish.

I spoke with my mum recently about this time, and she told me about the breakdowns I didn’t know she had, the agony she was in and the fear that loomed over my dad and brothers from our home in the South Island. What struck me though was that 11-year-old me never doubted for a second I’d recover. I was more worried about missing my school’s netball trials. In fact, I wrote a very official letter to the head of sports, assuring her that my absence wasn’t due to a lack of enthusiasm for the team. I was certain I’d get better. And, somehow, almost overnight, I did.

The doctors—now joined by an even larger team—exclaimed, “She’s improving!” A few days later, I was back in surgery to have the dialysis tubes removed, and later that same day, I was on a plane home. I was so weak, my muscles had basically given up after 5 weeks of immobility and malnutrition, but I managed to walk off the plane. My mum, of course, was hovering just under my arms, certain I’d collapse at any moment. But hey, at least I made it home in one piece.

much less sick.

After just a few days of recovery, I insisted on going to netball training because, of course, I was convinced I’d be ready for the first game. I showed up eager, just happy to be there, fully content with the idea of filling water bottles while my friends played. But after training, the coach pulled me aside and cut me from the team. She didn’t want someone as weak as me bringing down the others. That night, I cried harder than I ever did in the hospital. Weak? Pfft, I was strong.

I joined the second team, slowly built up my strength, and eventually surpassed my previous self and began improving at rapid speed.

Since then, I’ve run half marathons, completed a 19km obstacle course, played competitive volleyball in the Netherlands for four years, finished two half Ironmans, and earned a spot in the 2025 Ironman 70.3 World Championships in Spain.

When I reflected on all of this with my mum, she asked what my younger self in the hospital would think if I told her what I’ve accomplished. I replied, “She wouldn’t be surprised.”

now.

Having now completed two Ironman 70.3 races and somehow managed to qualify for the 2025 World Championships in Spain, I’m back in training and setting my sights on conquering the monster of a bike course. (EEK! Pray for my legs!)

Now, if you thought triathlon was a cheap hobby—well, surprise! It turns out it’s about as wallet-friendly as a luxury yacht. Who knew? So, we’re on the lookout for sponsorship to help cover the training, travel, and race expenses. Because, as much as I love to race, I’m pretty sure I can’t swim, bike, and run my way into a sponsor by sheer charm alone. Turns out, gear, flights, and entry fees don’t just magically appear out of thin air... Who would’ve thought? Oops.

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