100 Days of Wonder – #9
As I recover from Covid and try and pick up my training for the 2025 Dopey Challenge again, I am reflecting on running and what it has taught me, what it means to me and where I am with it now. There’s lots more about my running on my running blog including a write up of this particular run. I loved this run. That’s rare. I am still not entirely convinced I actually like running. But it means a lot to me because it has taught me a lot about myself. I have always been pretty good at everything I do but that’s simply because I just don’t do things I am not good at. Running is the exception. Running has taught me to stick at something, that doing something just because is a good enough reason to do it, that not being good at it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it. I am more patient with myself and others because of running, I struggle less with the inevitable failures of academia because running taught me I don’t have to excel at everything and it’s ok to have a bad run (a classic reviewer 2, a not perfect teaching session, a not so great meeting). I have (mostly) let go of the competitive streak in me because the world didn’t end when I came last in a race. Running has also taught me to celebrate and ‘bank’ the wins, the glorious runs – like this 5k – where everything feels right, the sense of achievement when you cross a finish line, run a new distance, go faster than you ever have or have recently or the wonder of kingfishers, herons, kites, deer and all sorts of other wildlife you stumble across on early morning trails. I try and note and enjoy the joyful teaching moments, the ‘your paper has now been accepted’ emails, the invites to go talk to interesting people about cool stuff because there will always be another long ploddy run in the cold rain and its academic equivalents – they need doing, they help make the magic happen but having a memory bank of of what the magic feels like definitely helps!

100 Days of Wonder – #4
If something is worth doing, it is worth doing right. Attention to detail and bothering with detail in the first place makes a difference to how people feel. I am utterly useless at attention to detail in the way it is generally used in the professional sense. I’m big picture and ideas not crossing Ts and dotting Is. I can’t proof read to save my life but I am good at the detail of life. I am good at doing the people things right and creating the space for their magic to happen. Seeing detail like the detail in the lamp makes me smile. Disney didn’t have to do this but they did. It reminds me to stop and think about what little detail might make someone smile today. How can I add just a little bit of pixie dust to someone’s day. Sometimes it was as simple as knowing a student’s name, thanking a colleague for their efforts or sending a text or email to check in with someone for no other reason than because you were thinking about them. I think about my friends and colleagues all the time. I’ll try pause more to let them know how amazing I think they are. Spreading a little joy really isn’t that difficult!

100 Days of Wonder – #2
The picture is of me in January 2006 in the lobby of the Contemporary Resort at Walt Disney World in Florida. It was my first trip. I didn’t care about Disney, I tagged along for the Florida winter sun. That trip changed EVERYTHING. It taught me to suspend reality. It taught me to throw myself into my imagination with reckless abandon and to trust it. Trusting my imagination was something I had lost studying law, imagination had felt mostly irrelevant to my degree and in many ways to the PhD I was working on at the time. But re-discovering my ability to imagine different ways of being and thinking have been key to my development as a law teacher and academic. The trip also reminded me of the power of good story telling and that drew me into Disney. Not that I knew it then, but that being drawn into Disney set the safety net that I would need, years later, when academia so nearly broke the joy and wonder in that twenty-something year old little kid in the picture. Sometimes I miss her and I often wish I could whisper in her ear: ‘It’s fine, you’re doing it right!’

