The journey of a thousand miles . . .

Many are familiar with the quote "The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." This quote is actually a translation of a quote by Chinese philosopher Laozi, and is over 2000 years old (but it began with a single day . . .).  Another translation of this quote is a little different, and this translation speaks to me in my current situation of rehab/recovery from my recent foot surgery:  "The journey of a thousand miles begins beneath one's feet."

I've always embraced the idea that when you are beginning something, the hardest part is usually the very first.  Those mornings when I would lay in bed after the early alarm clock awoke me from my slumber telling me that it was time to go run - the hardest part of that morning's run was stepping out of the bed.  Likewise, as difficult as running a marathon is, the hardest mile that you run is likely the first mile - the first mile after you've decided to begin running - not the first mile of the marathon.  So I certainly embrace the idea that the journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step.  However, in my particular case at the present time, the journey truly does begin beneath my feet, or foot to be exact. 

As a minister, I commonly seek to live up to expectations that parishioners place upon me.  As a  41-year-old minister, I'm still considered "young," but not young enough to be "hip" or "cool" (however, I'm both of those things - in my own mind, of course).  So while I may not conform to all expectations, one area that I try to at least find common footing (so to speak) is in how I dress:  usually on weekdays, business casual with a pair of dress shoes (wingtips, to be exact).  This past Sunday was the first day that I've actually been able to put on my dress shoes on both feet (without the boot on the right foot), and I handled it pretty well with the exception of putting them on - which proved to be painful.  However, once they were on I was just fine.  Yet, I still wore a pair of casual dressy shoes on Monday - more of a comfort thing. 

So yesterday I was in a bit of a rush in getting dressed to get to the office, so I decided to just put on a different pair of wingtips than what I had worn on Sunday (cordovan wingtips).  Just getting them on was painful, but I figured I'd be alright.  By the end of the day, my foot was killing me and my limp was quite pronounced.  When I got home I was able to take them off, and I could see immediately that my foot was swollen.  That shoe was just a little too tight to wear on a foot that is still recovering.  So last night became an exercise elevation and rotating ice packs.  Fortunately the swelling went down, and it feels tons better today.  But this was a good reminder to me that I'm not where I need to be yet - and I need to make better choices to get there.

This morning I went to the Y again, and I did 15 minutes on the Summit eliptical, and then did some circuit training before I went for 20 minutes of water jogging.  I'm more self-conscious and insecure than I care to admit, so putting on a floatation belt that looks a little girly (I think I'm going to buy one of my own instead of using the one at the Y) and then jumping in the pool and "running" - well, I feel like I've gotten a few looks.  I'm not too concerned about those looks, because I know that this is an exercise that I can do that does not hurt, and hopefully it is preparing me for a 1000 miles.  I do intervals in the water; I even stretch my stride out farther that I ever would on land, which hopefully will improve flexibility.  All in all, this is the work that I hope will lead to the next marathon, whenever that may be.  And when I run it, I will know that the journey to that marathon began with the water beneath my feet.