About that first step...

(via eelovestorun)

I bought my first REAL pair of running shoes in mid-December, thinking that I'd take the ten days of "break" to establish some new habits - and once again chase (however literally) the title "runner." I've tried before. Twice. And, both times, something big happened to disrupt my stride, distract me from myself, and refocus my energies in a different direction. Motivated by both the need to keep up with my two growing boys and the continual memory of what it feels like when I am strong and fit, I wanted to demonstrate to myself (and the husband, sons, and graduate students who are used to a level of "access" to me that doesn't include time spent between me and the road) that I was really serious. Hence, the pair of REAL running shoes purchased at the local FleetFeet (the experience of which is likely another post as it was not for the weak of heart).

The lanky, ridiculously-fit guy who sold me my brand-spankin' new pair of running shoes kiddingly winked and shared, "just remember, the hardest step is the first one out the door."

That sentence has tripped through my brain each day since - especially as my lovely pair of runners sits in their box. I spent my time over the "break" loving on my kids, building family memories, reading while snuggled under afghans, and completely ignoring the nagging voice deep inside that was urging me out the door. And, in all honesty, that lovely pair of shoes is now buried underneath holiday remnants, a tipped-over pile of books that I meant to read in preparation of the semester (that begins tomorrow), and one of the boy's stuffed animals that MUST be repaired before spewing any more stuffing...

How could that salesman have known all that was blocking my first step out the door? Do I have a "tell" that true runners can see? (Or did I give it away when I mispronounced the name of the "brand" of the shoe I was trying on?)

Along came Franki's insightful post at the Nerdy Book Club... Her words resonated with me with the same kind of spark and energy as I see "fire" in kids in our classrooms who find the right book at exactly the right moment. The biggest spark of all? The invitation to join her here as we blog our journeys and experiences as we start stepping out the door.

I continually urge the teachers (and students) with whom I work to go public with their practice. Together, we explore the power of blogging, vlogging, tweeting, and sharing the successes, failures, questions and provocations which emerge in our teaching. Where that feels completely intuitive to me as a teacher, it feels risky when it comes to my life as a really-wants-to-be runner. Something tells me that the learning ahead will teach me both about the process of attempting to join a particular (and expert) community of practice AND about myself.

My gratitude (at least until the muscles start to ache) to Franki for the invitation to come along. The one thing I am confident about is that the first step out the door is made a little less daunting when you know you're doing it with a trusted friend (and teacher-hero).