Raising pigs and walking runways: How this Iowan combined her dream jobs into one fashion-forward ag life

Editor's note: Lexi Marek first told this story on stage at the Des Moines Storytellers Project: Rural Life event. The Des Moines Storytellers Project is a series of storytelling events in which community members work with Register journalists to tell true, first-person stories live on stage. An edited version of Marek's story appears below.

In small-town America, graduating high school means one thing: a big celebration.

A few years ago, I was preparing for my graduation party by digging through boxes of “special items” — actually just every piece of paper I wrote on since the beginning of time — my parents had collected from my first 18 years.

I pulled out a paper star from preschool on which my teacher had written my 4-year-old-self’s hopes and dreams.

It read: “When I grow up, I want to be a supermodel and raise pigs with my dad.”

Let me tell you, not much has changed.

You see, my earliest memories are on the farm, playing with baby pigs or riding beside my dad in the buddy seat of the tractor. I hung out in more dirt piles than sandboxes, and the taste of well water (which is delicious) immediately brings back memories of childhood.

I was 5 when I started showing pigs, so chores became part of my daily life early. Feeding, cleaning, farrowing, I was used to it all. And I loved it.

But around sixth grade, all that changed.

Teenage years

I became a teenager and suddenly it dawned on me how fun it was to hang out with friends.

I lived for Friday night sleepovers.

Eye shadow and boys became of way more interest than ever before and my pigs, well, they got less and less attention.

One year, my high school basketball team was playing to get into the state tournament and it was the event of the century. (Go Demons!)

The big game finally came and my friends and I were going to dress up in our most festive orange and black gear to go cheer on our team. Only that Friday night, I didn’t get my chores done.

I was sitting in the kitchen preparing for the outing when I heard the back door open. It’s one of those doors that has a little bit of a screech to it so you know when someone is walking in.

This time, I knew it was my dad.

He fed the pigs twice a day and took care of them when we were at school. But this was Friday, and I was expected to take care of my pigs.

He walked up the steps and immediately focused his attention to me, sitting in a chair at the kitchen table waiting for a ride to town. He asked how my pigs were doing, and I hesitantly said that I hadn't seen them.

Silence. I knew what he was thinking and what he was about to say.

“Lexi, your pigs are only going to do well if you work with them," he said, staring right at me.  

Being an emotional teenage girl, I dramatically replied with tears rolling down my face.

“I just don’t care about the pigs," I said. "They’re fine.”

Don’t forget: There was basketball game to attend.

As the volume of voices got louder and louder, my dad reminded me that in all types of competition, the outcome is determined by the amount of work you put in.

The arguing continued and, eventually, the back door was slammed as my dad stormed out of the house to do my chores.

I pulled myself together and got ready for the basketball game that was taking place that night.

If I am being honest, by this point in my competition career, I hadn’t seen my pigs in a while.

Competition 

Basketball games aside, my family was getting ready for a show in Denver, Colorado, at the time.

Yes, the pigs were important to me, but I was looking forward to the adventure.

I never totally let go of showing pigs because they gave me the opportunity to travel and meet new people. Pig shows meant spending nights in hotels, swimming in pools past your bedtime, missing school and meeting kids from across the country.

And if you win, you get to stay the whole week. Think about it: Four more days of skiing, shopping, eating out and missing more school!

To make matters even more interesting, let me explain the Champion Drive.

Only the top animals make it into the Champion Drive. If you’re in, you get to walk onto a green carpet through ornamental white gates and lines of potted plants. In front of everyone, your name is called and the crowd cheers loudly.

Then, if the judge picks you to win, you are given a bright purple banner and a shiny belt buckle and a blanket of roses is placed on your pig.

It’s awesome!

With all this as my prize, I was hooked and I had to win.

So we are in Denver and I’m making memories and I’m ready to kick this show’s butt.

(Really, I'm just ready to stay the four extra days.)

Well that year, I went second in class. Twice. And I was going home — no extra days skiing or swimming in the hotel pool or missing school.

It comes time for the Champion Drive and I’m standing with my dad as a girl from Texas walks onto the green carpet.

Here’s the twist: She bought her pig from us! My family, bred, farrowed, raised and sold that pig. I could’ve had the pig she was walking — if I had worked harder. 

But, instead, that girl just won the National Western Stock Show. That girl just got the belt and the banner and the cheers.

I turned, looked at my dad and said, “I’m going to be there next year.”

He laughed and said, "OK." 

Being the gracious competitor I was, I shook the winner's hand and told her I was happy for her, because I was — I just wanted to be in her shoes.

I then watched as she hung onto the bright purple banner and the shiny belt buckle while a blanket of roses were placed on her pig.

Bruno

We got home, and I worked. It started out as a way to get that belt buckle and miss more school and make sure my pig was adorned with roses, but eventually something changed.

I began to enjoy the relaxation and repetition of caring for the animals. I began to understand the responsibility of taking care of something every day and how rewarding it felt to work hard towards a goal.

Then, in 2010, I was that girl who won the banner, the buckle, and had my pig, Bruno, covered in a blanket of roses. (Bruno loved it.)

And the first person I hugged was my dad.

I had spent so much time trying to get away — from the farm, from chores, from that life — that I couldn’t see how great it was.

But what I’ve realized is the more I go, the more I want to come back. Back to where my roots were planted long before I ever realized it. Back to where my family has their life. Back to where I learned the value of hard work, dedication, and that life is so much more than those materialistic things.

(Though, not gonna lie, the belt is pretty cool.)  

Now, I’ve graduated college. I’ve traveled around the world. And I continue to love the adventure and opportunity that life brings when you go away.

But every time I pack my bag and leave, I have the same feeling: I can’t wait to get home.

Just about every other week, I find myself driving back to the land my family has lived on for six generations because I crave the feeling of the wind through my hair as I’m riding the four-wheeler in the cattle pasture or the weight of the shovel in my hand as I help clean the barns where the animals are kept.

I have the goal of going home eventually because the truth is that southeast Iowa soil will forever run through my veins.

But remember that star from the beginning of my childhood?

There were two jobs on that star. Well, clearly I’m 5-foot-3-inches, I didn’t exactly become a supermodel. But I did venture out beyond my comfort zone and have taken my story and passion for agriculture to the Miss Iowa stage.

For me, vacation days have only ever consisted of pig shows and pageants, and I’m OK with that!

There’s only one bummer about the ending of this story, though: You can’t use live animals in the talent portion of a pageant.

Believe me, we checked.  

ABOUT THE STORYTELLER: Lexi Marek wasn't born in a barn, but she got there fast. With century farms on both sides of her family, Lexi found her place in agriculture and currently works for FarmHer in Des Moines. A graduate of Iowa State University, Lexi is trying to balance a healthy lifestyle with eating dessert first.

Become a teller

The Des Moines Storytellers Project strongly believes that everyone HAS a story and everyone CAN tell it. None of the storytellers who take our stage are professionals. They are your neighbors, friends or co-workers, and they are coached to tell by Register journalists. 

Want to tell your story at one of our upcoming Storytellers Project events? Read our guidelines and submit a story by clicking "Speak" at DesMoinesRegister.com/Storytellers.

Contact storytelling@dmreg.com for more information.

The 2019 storytelling season

Season tickets for the 2019 Des Moines Storytellers Project are on sale NOW!

Next year, the Storytellers Project will offer one show at 7 p.m. at Hoyt Sherman Place. Guests will be able to reserve a seat, so no more having to save seats or rushing to arrive early.

• Love in the Modern World: The messy world of dating, marriage and "singledom"  (Feb. 12)
• My Great Adventure: Wanderlust, taking a leap and getting away (April 23)
• On Second Thought: Ideas reconsidered and lessons learned (June 18)
• My First Time: The awkward enlightenment of coming of age (Aug. 20)
• True Tall Tales: Stories so bizarre and mysterious they have to be true (Oct. 29)
• Holiday Spectacular: Family, faith and reasons we gather at the end of the year (Dec. 17)

Season tickets, which start at $60, are on sale now at DesMoinesRegister.com/Storytellers; by phone at 1-800-745-3000; or at the Hoyt Sherman Place box office, 1501 Woodland Ave., Des Moines.

Tickets for individual shows are now available.

Can't wait to see you at one of our events!

Visit the Storytellers store

Embrace local storytelling with our new notebooks, mugs and apparel, available online in different colors. Order at ShopDMRegister.com/Storytellers.

Hear past storytellers

Missed the event?  You can still enjoy stories from "Rural life: Celebrating our roots and small-town squads."

WATCH: Mediacom rebroadcasts stories from the most recent show on MC22 periodically; check local listings for times.

LISTEN: Check out the Des Moines Storytellers podcast, which is available on iTunes and Stitcher.

ONLINE: Videos from this and other Storytellers events can be found at DesMoinesRegister.com/Storytellers under "Watch & Listen."