A new year always arrives with energy. Promises. Big ideas about how things will be different. We say things like this is the year and now I will change everything. And then January shows up with boots to lace, flights to catch, emails to answer, and a world that does not slow down just because the calendar year flipped.
Almost one month in feels like a better time to check in. Not with resolutions, but with reality. What I thought would change. What actually changed. What surprised me. What stayed hard. And what stayed joyful.
When the year started, I did not promise dramatic transformation. I promised something smaller. I said I would start walking again. Every day. Not for speed. Not for numbers. Just to move.
That part is happening. I am walking again. Sometimes outside. Often in airports, hotels, and event venues. I did not expect travel to shape this so much so early in the year. Inside the Territory. San Francisco. Vancouver. Rinks, gyms, and meeting rooms. Busy days, full schedules. But movement did not disappear when life got busy. It simply changed shape.
I walk between buildings instead of waiting for rides. I take the stairs instead of the elevator. I stand while editing photos. I move between conversations instead of sitting through them. My watch seems very pleased with me. It reminds me when I have stood up enough. It celebrates small goals. Calories burned. Minutes moved. Hours not sitting still. I do not feel like an athlete. But I do feel like a person who is moving again. And that matters more.
This is where Physical Literacy shows up for me right now. Not as sport. Not as performance. But as relationship. Physical Literacy is not about being good at movement. It is about feeling capable of it. Comfortable with it. Connected to it. It is confidence. It is motivation. It is understanding your body and finding ways to move that fit your real life.
For me, that looks like walking through airports instead of scrolling (yep, I deleted my social media apps). It looks like choosing stairs instead of escalators. It looks like listening to my body instead of pushing past it automatically. It is not dramatic. It is consistent.
Some things are changing slowly. My portions are smaller. I pause more before eating. I drink water first. I try to notice whether I am hungry or just tired or just busy. My weight is going down. Not in kilograms. In grams. And that feels strangely okay. Because what matters more than the number is the pattern.
Physical Literacy is not about punishment. It is about awareness. It is not about perfect choices. It is about informed ones. It is not about being hard on yourself. It is about building trust with your body again.
What has not changed is that the world still feels heavy. Injustice still exists. Communities still struggle. Systems still move slowly. That part did not become lighter just because I started walking more. But something else did shift. Eleven years in the North does something to you. It plants seeds. It builds relationships. It creates threads between people, organizations, and communities. And slowly, those threads start pulling things together. I am seeing more collaboration now. More shared tables. More shared projects. More shared responsibility. It does not fix everything. But it changes the shape of the work.
And that is Physical Literacy too. Not just movement. Connection. Belonging. Safe spaces where people feel welcome to try. Coaches who care about more than results. Volunteers who keep programs alive. Young people who fall, get up, and try again. Physical Literacy lives in bodies, but it also lives in relationships.
What surprised me most this month is that I did not need motivation. I needed consistency. Motivation is loud. It wants big change. Consistency is quiet. It just wants today. Walk today. Stand today. Drink water today. Take the stairs today. None of that looks heroic. All of it adds up.
Everyone’s version of this looks different. Some people are raising kids. Some are caring for elders. Some are working two, three jobs. Some are grieving. Some are just trying to get through Winter. I can only speak from where I am standing. And I am grateful for where that is.
I am grateful that I can travel. I am grateful that I get to be part of events. I am grateful that I can volunteer my time. I am grateful that I can still learn about my own habits and make small adjustments without trying to become someone else. I am not becoming someone new.
Almost one month in, what actually changed? I move more. I rush less. I notice more. The world is still heavy. But I feel a little steadier standing in it. And the sentence that keeps coming back to me this year is simple: “One Ripple at a Time.” – Thorsten Gohl
Not waves. Not floods. Ripples. A step. A choice. A connection. A small act of care. For ourselves. For each other. For the communities we are part of. That is physical literacy too. And that feels like a good place to keep walking from.