minxy

I have been thinking, as I get ready to move (again) about the kinds of things I’m leaving behind and the kinds of things I will find in my new place. My Mom, at one point, wondered what kind of sport I’d find myself practicing back East. I said, somewhat tongue-in-cheekily, that it would probably involved the reservoir lake twenty yards past the front door of my house.

Today is the 37th anniversary of Title IX. I am going to turn 32 a week from tomorrow. I have always been an athlete, since my Dad taught me to throw a football (I grew up in the Midwest.) While I have adjusted to my brain occasionally having fits and starts and migraines and shutting down, which took a little bit of readjustment of my sense of self, I am deeply, deeply grateful that my body has remained uninjured, unbroken, and strong enough to allow me to remain an athlete into my fourth decade.

Today I am reminded that I should also be grateful for the laws that have insisted that I have a right to play this hard.

( My brother has called me hard-core about sports; it’s possible that he’s right about it, but I’ve never run a marathon, or anything. I go that distance in a boat. )

Cofax's post on Title IX