Today was officially my first day of summer. I drove home from school with the same thoughts I have every year when 7th grade ends, and I'm faced with a long summer of self reflection: anxious, self-deprecating swirling thoughts: Was I too mean? Too nice? Will the kids graduate from High school? Will they be happy? The faces of my 7th graders flash in my mind. With each face comes new worry.
I needed to let go, to reset my brain. I needed to run, and to do that I needed new shoes. I drove to my favorite running store and handed the first salesman I saw my old Nike's. The shoes immediately reveal that I pronate, that I'm not a "real runner" and that I stepped in an uncanny amount of gum over the past two years.
The salesman pounced on my obvious desperation. He brought out the "new model," a shoe so perfect, so obviously anti-pronation, so neon-yellow that I knew I could run forever. This shoe would wipe away my self-doubt along with any traces of ab-fat. "You should get two pairs," he nudged. We'll set you up for the whole year." I didn't even walk around in the shoe. Didn't even feel the toes. I just nodded and handed him my credit card. I payed more than I would for a months worth of cable. I needed those shoes.
I came home, got dressed, and ran for what seemed like forever, but what was actually only two miles. I was sweaty, tired and satisfied. Thank you new shoes for your anti-shock absorption, the motivation to run the first few miles of my summer vacation, and to remind me of a lesson I can't seem to grasp: take one mile, one year, one student, one day at a time. Progress is slow, and new starts are necessary. What's important is that I keep on running.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees, takes off his shoes, The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries... -Elizabeth Barrett Browning I too often find myself plucking blackberries. This blog is me taking off my shoes.
