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Day 168: f*ing friday :: foot

17 Jun

Today continues the weekly series, F*ing Fridays, which will coincidentally occur on Friday. I mentioned some of my favorite F words back on Day 5, including: Fearless, Fabulous, Fine, Fun, Faith, Freedom, Forgiveness, to name a Few.

Last week I dove into the word Fastidious

Today’s F*ing Friday is dedicated to the word:

As in, baby I was born to run.

Actually as a baby I was born with one foot turned in.
Doctors told my parents I would only walk with a brace and never run.

My mother didn’t like the sound of that.

She took the advice of one doctor and at his instruction rubbed my foot outwards every time she changed my diaper, pulling it in the other direction until I screamed in pain.

Mama Sling told me she hated every second of it, hated to hear my cries of pain. But what she hated even more was the thought of her daughter never running.

The love of a mother.
And boy did I ever run!

I loved playing basketball, softball, and volleyball, any sport really.
But, I hated running.

Funny thing is, all my life I complained about running.

I blame suicides.
The timed drills at warp speed between the hash marks on the basketball court.  Aptly named suicides because once finished your stomach commits an act that defies gravity.

Seems pretty ironic doesn’t it?
The sacrifice of a mother to make sure her baby would run.
The ultimate gift.

And all I did was complain.
Total lack of appreciation.

I once read a good point about Title Nine.  It went something like this:
When the day comes that our daughters don’t know what Title Nine is, that will be a day to celebrate.  It means girls no longer have to worry about access or opportunity.  It will just be normal to play sports.  It will just be what they do.

In the same way, my mother gave me the greatest gift of all:
The chance to take running for granted.

Even if I was born with two left feet.

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