I’m going to go ahead and keep it 100: I got about as much athletic skill as Pookie in that rehab scene in New Jack City. You can stick me on a bike, drop me off on a track, glue a ball to my hand, and I wouldn’t know thing one what to do with any of it. I was the kid who tucked herself in the house with books, dolls and art supplies. Playing sports, doing outdoorsy stuff, going in the back yard? Not an option. To this day, my husband still teases me about the time when, as a grown woman with a baby, I walked out onto the back patio of my childhood home and said, “Hmph—it’s actually nice back here.”
Thank God, my girls aren’t the same way. Soccer, bike riding, running, basketball, softball, camping, hiking, swimming, playing with worms and miscellaneous bugs—my girls play all of that. Happily.
I don’t pretend to understand their lust for such things. But I encourage them because they like it, it’s healthy, it keeps them active and, yeah, I think it’s kinda fly that my girls can kick booty out on the field. When it comes to sports, both of my girls are kinda the business.
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Which is why I’m still beaming with pride over here after my baby, Lila, ran her first 5 K! She and her best friend, Maggie, joined the running club at their school and trained twice a week in the Georgia heat to prepare for their big race. And this past Saturday, with their parents cheering them on from the sidelines (Maggie’s dad bravely ran with them), the two of them put rubber to the road and ran their race.
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