Don't let down your guard.

Summer vacation has arrived, and with it I've lost all track of sense.

I tried--albeit unsuccessfully--to fit an iPhone into a Nathan handheld before a recent trail run. The freedom of summer surely must've taxed my ethical core, for had the bottle's pouch accommodated the device, I would have most certainly would've found a reason to tear into it, retrieve the phone, and capture a moment. Then, perhaps I'd share! share! share!

I see now I harbored some belief in a social (media) pressure, and amid the chaos of summer break, I damn-near found myself on a jog with my phone for the sole purpose of advertising my routine.

Thankfully, the belief that I'd need this kind of proof wore off around the same time I realized I couldn't complete the zipper track around corner of the phone case.

I love to run with company, and I know full-well the ways the pack can alleviate the training, inspire the vision, and counsel the weary. I know what my running does for others (mainly because it makes me tolerable), but I primarily run for me. I need no other evidence, nor validation, than what I collect between the first push and the final stutter.

How my students shaped my training this week: Well, now that we are on hiatus, my students have let me think about them again. I can dedicate the thinking during my non-running hours to the big ideas and developmental questions that will ultimately benefit their learning; I can dedicate the thinking during my running hours to fostering mental toughness.

What my son taught me about running this week: We entered a new phase this week, advancing from infant to toddler rooms at school. Given my freer mornings, I had the opportunity to perform drop-off duties and work with him through the transition. The ritual was a series of teary, shrieking episodes.

When the teachers tell me I can walk away, I'm not guilty or cold. I see that transitions are hard. And as I work more on trails, more on climbing, and more time on my feet, I see that it's harder because it's different, not because I can't do it. It doesn't mean I won't still do some crying, however.