Taking A Walk #8

[The Stage is on Fire] is a page-turner in which, much like life, there are no easy answers and yet each step of the journey yields insight and hope. This work of heart must not be missed!

Melanie Faith

Creative Writing Teacher, Essayist & Poet.

Katie Steedly’s first-person piece [The Unspeakable Gift] is a riveting retelling of her participation in a National Institutes of Health study that aided her quest to come to grips with her life of living with a rare genetic disorder. Her writing is superb.

The Society of Professional Journalists

In recognition of receiving the Dateline Award for the Washingtonian Magazine essay, The Unspeakable Gift.

I thank you … It is the authenticity of your “class notes”; and it is the delicacy and skill with which you present the nuances of classroom life and the actuality of your students’ and fellow teachers’ lives.

Maxine Greene

Philosopher and Education Scholar

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Pace. Marathons. Gifts.

For the first time in a long time I will not be running/walking in the Kentucky Derby Festival mini-Marathon this weekend. Recent foot surgery has made this year’s race impossible. This week’s walk is about finding our real pace. This week’s walk understands that starts and finishes are sacred. This week’s walk remembers miles and years and steel and strength.

What I learn from my thousand mile failures

I have been running since December 18, 1999. Here and there along the way, I set the goal of running 1,000 miles. I put a training plan in place to achieve that goal each time. I fell far short each time. Right now, fresh from foot surgery, trying to wrap my brain around walking again, I want to take stock. I know that some of my biggest lessons have come from running. As worn out as it might sound, some of my biggest lessons have also come from failure. I believe that to be true with my entire heart.

Marathon

Doing a marathon was on my “before I am thirty” list. I was twenty-nine and had not run a timed mile since high school. I weighed thirty pounds more than I did at that time. I got winded when I walked up a flight of stairs and did not own a pair of running shoes. Despite all that, on December 18, 1999, I registered to compete in the San Diego Rock-N-Roll Marathon. The 18th was significant because it was the anniversary of the day I resigned from my high school teaching job. I wanted to reclaim it as something powerful and positive while also making good on a “before I am thirty” promise to myself. Home in Indiana after a tough semester in Austin, I sat on the couch at my parent’s house and explained I wanted to do a marathon. They responded with support, well-masked doubt, and a healthy amount of concern.

Running is a gift.

Through it all, running has been a gift. Personal bests. Personal worsts. The sunshine. The rain. The cuss words. The sore feet. The tears. The smiles. The sunrises. The birds. The dolphins. The leaves. The roses. The magnolias. The medals. I hold my head a little higher each time a year passes and I am able to put my shoes on, jump outside, press start on my watch, and get going. I am transported to a powerful place where I am headed in the right direction, in control of a small sliver of a chaotic world, and building strength to meet challenges that come my way. Things make more sense when I run.Taking A Walk #8