My entry today is a bit longer than usual and if you can stick with me, the message should resonate. Today marks a milestone for me. One thousand days ago, I set out to create a simple streak. The goal was not grand or complicated. It was simply to run, jog, or walk at least two miles in a single workout each day. That was it. Nothing more. And yet this small commitment has carried me through one thousand consecutive days without a break.
When I think about the meaning of this streak, it is not about speed, distance, or competition. It is about consistency. It is about showing up. There were days when I felt strong and energetic, and there were days when I felt tired or overwhelmed. There were days of sunshine and days of rain. There were days when I had little time and had to squeeze in the bare minimum. Yet in every circumstance, I honored the streak.
This streak has taught me that improvement rarely comes in a single giant leap. It comes in steady, almost invisible steps. One day does not look like much. Two miles is not a marathon. Yet when you add up those small steps, when you stay faithful to the process, the result becomes something powerful. That lesson does not belong only to fitness. It belongs to every part of our lives, including the work we do together in education. Imagine what would happen if we each started a streak of our own. It does not have to be about running or walking. It could be a teaching streak. Maybe it is reading aloud to your class every single day, even if only for ten minutes. Maybe it is greeting every student at the door with a smile. Maybe it is sending one encouraging note a week to a colleague. It could be something outside the classroom altogether. A fitness streak. A reading streak. A family dinner streak. The point is not what the streak is, but what it builds inside of us. When we create streaks, we create momentum. Momentum keeps us moving even when motivation feels low. Momentum builds habits, and habits shape culture. As teachers and leaders, the culture we shape is contagious. Students see it. They feel it. They mirror it. When we model consistency and dedication, they learn that goals are reached not by luck but by steady effort.
I have also discovered that streaks are deeply personal. Better is not defined by someone else. Better is defined by each of us. My streak is not about being the fastest runner or covering the greatest distance. It is about keeping a promise I made to myself. For you, better might mean something entirely different. And that is the beauty of it. Better belongs to you. I do not want you to hear this and think that a streak is only about numbers. It is about meaning. It is about proving to yourself that you can take small steps every day toward something that matters. Over time, those steps add up. They add up in fitness. They add up in reading. They add up in relationships. They add up in classrooms.
One thousand days ago, I had no idea what this streak would become. I only knew that I needed to take that day’s step. Today, looking back, I see how those simple daily choices built something significant. The streak now runs my day. I have to move forward. I no longer have to find motivation because with my streak, the motivation found me. So I want to encourage you to consider your own streak. Choose something that matters to you. Start small. Stay consistent. Share it with your students if you want them to join in. Or keep it as a personal reminder of your own capacity to grow. Whatever you choose, let it be your steady path toward becoming better.
Better is not about perfection. It is about progress. It is about the courage to take one more step today, and then another tomorrow, and then another after that. Before long, those steps become a journey. And that journey will be worth celebrating. Though I have known this my whole life, I lived it when I was recovering from a life-threatening bout with the original COVID-19 (The Beast as I called it). As I recounted in my book ‘Upright’, due to the massive damage to my lungs and the significant scar tissue present, my oxygen uptake often expressed as VO2 max, was limited at best. My diminished lung capacity impaired my ability to perform basic daily activities, including walking around the house. I would often have to stop to catch my breath just walking to the kitchen. Walk up the stairs? Forget it. Over a 6 month period, I improved to a point that I could walk around the grocery store at a slow pace, but that simple activity expended energy resources.
I have come a long way since then but I can remember the feeling. I used to coach myself with every step. I would tell myself, “baby steps”. Move incrementally toward the goal. Get better every day. Some days are better than others, but try everyday to move toward the goal. Incremental change works. It is a proven strategy for sustainable progress over time. I’ll take that any day.
Until next time...
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