When Quiet Arrives
This week, school had two days of shortened rosters—forty-minute lessons because of meetings I wasn’t even involved in (which occurs more often than not as I only work at this school two days of the week). Fifth years are off timetable too, off preparing for their exams. It made things quieter.
And with that quiet came something else: space.
Only when quiet arrives, the mind has the space to wander. It has time to actually think. And in that space, some things became clear.
Like how packed my weeks really are.
Athletics training currently goes big into competition season. My athletes were preparing on their own this week, choosing which disciplines they wanted to focus on. That kind of self-steering was really nice to see. It gives me some space too.
My own training felt lighter as well—aided by longer days, the warmth, the lack of wind as the evening progresses. There’s something truly amazing about starting and ending a session in sunlight. The spiked shoes come out again, the legs move faster, and everything feels more alive.
So here I am. Five working days. Coaching two evenings a week. Teaching a course temporarily on Saturdays. And this weekend: a competition to attend as a trainer.
I hadn’t written it all down like that until now. And reading it back, I think: wow. That's quite a bit.
What this quieter week at school gave me was contrast. A change in the air. Enough silence to actually see what I’m usually running through. Compare that to the feeling to have more space. Space that can provide relieve. It feels like something I want more of.
Just thinking out loud. Right, Ed?