Suppose you want to start jogging.
You tell yourself that this time you are serious. You want to become healthier. You want more energy. Perhaps the doctor has already told you that you need to exercise. Perhaps you have been looking at yourself in the mirror and thinking that something has to change.
So you make a plan.
You look for the right running shoes. You search for a beginner’s program. You watch videos about proper form. You decide which route is safest. You calculate how early you need to wake up. Maybe you even download an app that will measure your distance, your pace, your heart rate, and probably things you did not know needed measuring.
All of these can be useful.
But several days later, you are still not running.
The shoes are there. The plan is there. The intention is there. You may even have a good reason for doing it.
What is missing is movement.
So I have a different suggestion.
Tomorrow morning, do not run five kilometers.
Do not run one kilometer.
In fact, I am not even asking you to leave the house.
Put on your shoes.
That is all.
Wake up at five o’clock, put on your running shoes, and sit there for five minutes. Then take them off if you want.
The next morning, do it again.
Put on your shoes.
Maybe you will sit there again. Fine.
Do it the next day.
Eventually, you may look down at those shoes and say to yourself, “This is ridiculous. I am already wearing the shoes. Why am I still sitting here?”
Then perhaps you will step outside.
Maybe you will walk.
Maybe you will run for thirty seconds and discover that thirty seconds is already enough to make you question several decisions you have made in life.
That is okay.
You moved.
And movement changes the conversation.
I Am Not Lowering the Bar
Some people hear this idea and think I am talking about making goals easier. If you cannot run, just put on the shoes. If you cannot write a book, write one sentence. Give yourself a small win and feel good about yourself.
That is not what I mean.
I am not lowering the bar.
I am removing the excuse.
There is a difference.
When the first move is too large, we can defend our inaction. Of course I cannot run five kilometers today. I am not ready. I have not trained. I do not have enough time. Maybe I need better shoes.
Those reasons can sound perfectly sensible.
But if I ask you to put on your shoes, your excuses become harder to defend.
“I am not confident enough to put on my shoes.”
That sounds strange.
“I need to learn more before I put on my shoes.”
Really?
“I need to discover my purpose before I can tie my shoelaces.”
Now we can hear what is happening.
Sometimes the problem is not that the goal is impossible. The problem is that we have made readiness the price of beginning.
We tell ourselves that when we have enough confidence, we will act. When the plan becomes clear, we will act. When we have enough time, money, knowledge, support, courage, or motivation, then we will finally move.
But what if some of those things come because we move?
What if action is not merely what happens after preparation?
What if action is part of the preparation?
I Kept Crumpling the Page
I learned this from writing.
There was a time when I wanted to become a writer. I would sit down, begin writing something, look at the page, and decide that it was not good enough.
Then I would crumple the page.
I had a reasonable explanation for this. One day, when I had accomplished something important, I would write about it. One day, when I was already a better writer, I would have something worth saying. I wanted to produce work that was good, and surely there was nothing wrong with wanting to be good.
Except that I was waiting to become a writer before doing the thing that would make me one.
I was waiting for writing to become easier before I wrote.
The explanation sounded wise.
It was also an excuse.
When I finally began writing seriously, I discovered something I could not have learned while staring at a blank page. Writing was not simply a way to record what I already knew. Writing helped me know.
I would begin with an idea that seemed clear in my head, then discover while writing that it was not clear at all. I would find gaps in my thinking. I would make connections I had not seen before. A sentence would lead me to a question. The question would lead me to another idea. Sometimes I would start writing about one thing and discover that the more important subject was somewhere else.
The writing was teaching the writer.
And that changed the way I thought about purpose too.
People often tell us that before we act, we need to know our big why. We need complete clarity about our purpose. We need to know where this is going.
That can be helpful.
But I have also learned that purpose sometimes becomes clearer after we begin.
You start writing, and eventually you ask, “Who am I writing this for?”
Perhaps it is for your son.
Perhaps it is for your family.
Perhaps it is for a manager who is struggling with something you once struggled with. Perhaps it is for a teacher who wants to make a difference. Perhaps it is for a person who will never be able to attend one of your seminars but can read something you wrote.
You may not discover the reason before you begin.
Sometimes the reason appears because you kept beginning.
Every Speech Is a Rehearsal
I learned something similar when I wanted to become a motivational speaker.
When I joined Toastmasters, I told someone that I wanted to do motivational speaking. He gave me advice that I have carried for years. If you want to become a speaker, you have to speak to people.
That sounds obvious now. It was important for me to hear then.
Every speech, he told me, is a rehearsal for the next speech.
Some speeches will work beautifully. You will feel the audience moving with you. People will laugh where you hoped they would laugh. They will remember your story. You may leave the room feeling ten feet tall.
Other speeches will teach you humility.
A joke dies.
A story goes nowhere.
You explain something you thought was brilliant and receive the facial expression normally reserved for complicated appliance instructions.
But you learn.
The next speech becomes better because the last speech was real.
That is different from rehearsing forever in your head.
I could have spent years reading books about public speaking and waiting until I felt like a professional motivational speaker. But speaking itself taught me things that books could not teach me. I learned how people respond. I learned which stories connect. I learned when to stop explaining. I learned that some ideas I loved did not matter to an audience, while a simple sentence I almost removed was the one people remembered.
Movement gave me evidence.
Evidence gave me confidence.
And confidence allowed me to make a better next move.
This is why I am suspicious when someone says, “I will begin when I am confident.”
Where is the confidence supposed to come from?
Confidence is often evidence remembered.
You did something. You survived. You learned. You became a little more capable. Then you did something harder.
The movement came first.
We Can Plan Only From the World We Know
There is another problem with waiting until the entire road is clear.
We can plan only with what we know.
That sounds obvious, but it has enormous consequences.
There were possibilities in my own life that I could not have included in my original plans because I did not know those possibilities existed.
I did not grow up with a detailed plan to become a motivational speaker, trainer, consultant, writer, and experience designer. Those worlds became visible one after another because I moved into them.
When you begin writing, you discover what writing can do.
When you begin speaking, you meet people you could not have met while preparing at home.
When you start a business, you discover problems customers actually have—not only the problems you imagined they had.
When you make an offer, someone says yes, no, or “What if you did this instead?” All three answers teach you something.
The first move does more than move you closer to the destination you already imagined.
Sometimes it reveals a different destination.
This is why planning, though useful, has limits. The person making the plan today has not yet met the people you will meet after you move. That person has not yet developed the skills you will develop. That person has not yet seen the opportunities that become visible from farther down the road.
You do not always need a more detailed map.
Sometimes you need to move far enough for more of the landscape to appear.
Move First
Of course, I am not saying that preparation is useless.
If you are performing surgery, please prepare.
If you are investing your family’s life savings, do not interpret “move first” as permission to close your eyes and click buttons.
There are decisions where preparation, competence, and careful thinking matter enormously.
But many of the things we postpone are not like that.
Write the first paragraph.
Make the call.
Ask the question.
Have the conversation.
Send the proposal.
Walk into the gym.
Talk to one customer.
Apply for the opportunity.
Open the document.
Practice the skill.
We hide inside preparation because preparation feels productive without exposing us to reality. A plan cannot reject us. A spreadsheet cannot laugh at us. The course we keep taking does not tell us whether anyone will buy what we are offering.
Movement does.
That is precisely why movement is useful.
Reality gives feedback.
And feedback allows us to adjust.
So when I say Move First, I am not asking you to act recklessly. I am asking you to identify the smallest real move that takes you out of imagination and puts you in contact with reality.
Make it small if necessary.
But make it real.
If you want to write a book, perhaps your first move is not “write a book.” Write one honest paragraph today.
If you want to build a business, your first move may not be creating a fifty-page business plan. Offer something useful to one real person and listen carefully to what happens.
If you want to become a speaker, deliver the next speech.
If you want to repair a relationship, perhaps the first move is one conversation.
If you want to run, you already know what I am going to say.
Put on your shoes.
Then see what becomes possible from there.
What Is Your Version of Putting On Your Shoes?
There is no single first move that works for everyone because we are not standing in the same place.
Your move may look embarrassingly small to another person.
That does not matter.
What matters is whether it is real.
You are not trying to impress anyone with the size of your first step. You are trying to leave the place where nothing changes.
And once you move, pay attention.
What did the action teach you?
What became easier?
What became harder?
What did you discover that you did not know before?
What is the next move?
This is where movement becomes more than motivation. You are creating evidence. You are learning from reality. You are becoming someone who has actually done the thing, even if only in its smallest honest form.
The first step will not show you the whole road.
It does not have to.
It only has to show you something that standing still could never show you.
So think about the thing you keep saying you want to do.
Not everything.
One thing that matters.
What is its version of putting on your shoes?
Do that.
Then make the next move.
About Jef Menguin
Jef Menguin is a Filipino motivational speaker, leadership consultant, and creator of Move First. He helps leaders, teams, professionals, and students turn hesitation into meaningful action through memorable stories, practical shifts, and one meaningful move.
Explore his work as a motivational speaker in the Philippines or connect with him on LinkedIn.