I was embarrassed that it felt so good. It soothed an old wound. My thirteen-year-old brain had made a note, “You are not an athlete, and athletes are what you should be.” I grew up and never threw out that note. I became funny and charming and accomplished, and I collected all kinds of notes. But beneath those piles of paper, the original note remained. “You are not an athlete, and an athlete is what you should be.”
