Here's a little humor to start your new year:
A vegan, an atheist, and a runner walk into a bar. I only know because they told everyone within two minutes.
I retell this joke with affection; I love many people who are vegans, atheists, and runners. And, although my personal pace is more like a leisurely stroll, I know that I fall into this particular runner stereotype. I post my mileage and times on Facebook. I plead - um, I mean, encourage friends to register for races with me. I give big, cheery greetings to others when I see them on the road or trail. In short, I'm pretty obnoxious about this hobby. But here's the thing - it's not because I'm a super-confident runner. Rather, it's because I am terrified, exhausted, and feel like I'm going to puke/pass out/die. It's my way of shamelessly asking for support.
Sometimes, I wish I could ask for the same support in my role as a teacher. Can you imagine the social media updates?
And what might our interactions with one another look like at school?! High fives and thumbs up as we pass in the hallways. Cheering each other on as we push through a difficult stretch of the morning. Medals and a banana for making it to the finish line of 3:15pm. These don't sound like terrible ideas to me.
As a novice runner, the most challenging part of the sport for me is pacing. I landed myself in physical therapy when I first started training for a 5k because I went too hard and too fast, too soon. My speed was doable, but I couldn't sustain it safely or comfortably. With time and practice, I am learning my own capabilities more deeply and with more nuance. I'm always striving to find the balance between challenging myself just enough (so that I improve) and finding a stride that I can maintain for the distance I want. When I'm heading out on a course, I'm mentally tracking all those blissful downhill moments because I know I'll need to conserve energy for coming back up on my return. There's constant self-talk and self-monitoring: Pull back. Go hard. Recover a bit here. Make up the time here. To me, this awareness is much harder than the breathing or sweating or muscle aches.
I'm confident that I'm becoming better at pacing myself as a runner, but I still feel pretty clueless about pacing myself as a teacher. Perhaps, like running, there are two keys to finishing the race, whether it's getting through the day or getting through to retirement: Support and self-awareness.
In other words, don't be surprised when I give you a high-five and a banana when I see you next.
A vegan, an atheist, and a runner walk into a bar. I only know because they told everyone within two minutes.
I retell this joke with affection; I love many people who are vegans, atheists, and runners. And, although my personal pace is more like a leisurely stroll, I know that I fall into this particular runner stereotype. I post my mileage and times on Facebook. I plead - um, I mean, encourage friends to register for races with me. I give big, cheery greetings to others when I see them on the road or trail. In short, I'm pretty obnoxious about this hobby. But here's the thing - it's not because I'm a super-confident runner. Rather, it's because I am terrified, exhausted, and feel like I'm going to puke/pass out/die. It's my way of shamelessly asking for support.
Sometimes, I wish I could ask for the same support in my role as a teacher. Can you imagine the social media updates?
- "New personal record - taught for 420 consecutive minutes today!"
- "All the training paid off! Met my goal of helping a student zip his own coat!"
- "Slight injury during training today, but I'm getting right back out there first thing tomorrow!"
And what might our interactions with one another look like at school?! High fives and thumbs up as we pass in the hallways. Cheering each other on as we push through a difficult stretch of the morning. Medals and a banana for making it to the finish line of 3:15pm. These don't sound like terrible ideas to me.
As a novice runner, the most challenging part of the sport for me is pacing. I landed myself in physical therapy when I first started training for a 5k because I went too hard and too fast, too soon. My speed was doable, but I couldn't sustain it safely or comfortably. With time and practice, I am learning my own capabilities more deeply and with more nuance. I'm always striving to find the balance between challenging myself just enough (so that I improve) and finding a stride that I can maintain for the distance I want. When I'm heading out on a course, I'm mentally tracking all those blissful downhill moments because I know I'll need to conserve energy for coming back up on my return. There's constant self-talk and self-monitoring: Pull back. Go hard. Recover a bit here. Make up the time here. To me, this awareness is much harder than the breathing or sweating or muscle aches.
I'm confident that I'm becoming better at pacing myself as a runner, but I still feel pretty clueless about pacing myself as a teacher. Perhaps, like running, there are two keys to finishing the race, whether it's getting through the day or getting through to retirement: Support and self-awareness.
In other words, don't be surprised when I give you a high-five and a banana when I see you next.
