It is shockingly easy to forget that we are whole people beyond the roles we fill in a day.

Teacher. Counselor. Administrator. Parent. Partner. Caregiver. Problem-solver. Keeper of the schedule. Finder of the missing Chromebook charger.

From the moment we walk into school, our attention is pulled toward what needs to be taught, answered, corrected, copied, documented, de-escalated, located, or handled immediately—if not sooner.

Our thinking gets hijacked by responsibilities, have-to’s, and shoulds.

I have to answer that email. 

I should use lunch to finish grading.

I need to check on that student.

I should stop by the office.

I have to get ready for the afternoon.

Before we know it, the entire day belongs to everyone and everything except us.

Enter the Lunch Mile

The Lunch Mile is one of my strategies for interrupting that pattern.

Sometimes, I just need a shot of the outdoors in the middle of the day. I need to step outside the building, move my body, breathe different air, and look at something that isn’t laminated.

So I walk.

It isn’t every day. Sometimes the weather doesn’t cooperate. Sometimes my schedule doesn’t cooperate. Sometimes I don’t cooperate.

And plenty of times, it isn’t even a true mile.

I am not measuring my pace, closing fitness rings, or trying to walk 60 miles in September. The Lunch Mile is not another goal to achieve or another habit to perform perfectly.

The goal isn’t perfection.

It’s reconnection.

For a few minutes, I step out of the noise and remember that there is an entire world beyond the walls of the building. There is sky. There are trees. There is weather. There are birds carrying on with their little bird lives without any sort of paperwork about it.

And I remember something else too:

I am a whole person.

We Don’t Need Another Thing to Be Good At

Educators are very talented at turning helpful ideas into additional expectations.

Take a walk at lunch? Great. Now it must happen every day, cover exactly one mile, improve cardiovascular fitness, include a hydration goal, and possibly produce enough content for a six-part Instagram series.

No pressure.

But the Lunch Mile is not meant to be one more item on the list of things we aren’t doing well enough.

It’s just a small change of scenery that gives something back to me.

Some days, that might mean walking a mile. Other days, it might mean walking around the parking lot once. It might mean sitting outside for five minutes, taking the long way to get something from my car, or standing in the sunshine before going back inside.

Some beats none.

That phrase (a soundtrack coined by author Jon Acuff) has rescued me from all-or-nothing thinking more times than I can count.

When we believe something only matters if we can do it completely, consistently, and impressively, we often do nothing at all. But five minutes outside still counts. One mood-boosting song in the car still counts. Eating lunch without answering email still counts.

A small moment of reconnection does not have to transform your whole day to be worthwhile.

It only has to remind you that the day belongs to you, too.

What Helps You Feel Like Yourself?

Your version of a Lunch Mile may have nothing to do with walking.

Maybe you eat lunch with the colleague who makes you laugh instead of joining a conversation that leaves you aggravated for the rest of the afternoon.

Maybe you keep a book in your bag and read two pages.

Maybe you listen to music while setting up for your next class, step outside between meetings, text a friend, drink your coffee while it is still hot, or eat something that requires silverware.

Maybe you pause long enough to ask:

What would give something back to me right now?

Not fix everything and erase the demands of the day.

Not turn you into the calmest, most well-balanced educator in the district.

Just give something back to you.

These little touchpoints matter because our roles can become so consuming that we start to confuse what we do with who we are. Teaching is important. Counseling is important. Leading a school is important.

AND the life outside the building is just as important as the life inside it.

So is the person living that life.

A Small Nudge

Notice when your thinking has been completely taken over by responsibilities, have-to’s, and shoulds.

Then look for one small way to reconnect with something that energizes you, settles you, amuses you, or just feels like you.

It doesn’t need to be elaborate. It doesn’t need to happen every day. It doesn’t need to be worthy of a gold star.

Your walk can be short. Your coffee can be reheated. Your moment of peace can last three minutes before somebody comes looking for you.

Take it anyway.

The goal isn’t perfection. It’s reconnection.

Because you are not only the work you accomplish, the problems you solve, or the people you take care of.

You are a whole person.

What is one little “I am a whole person” touchpoint you could slide into your day?