The Quietest Thing Diabetes Took From Me — Four Years Without Feeling
The Quietest Thing Diabetes Took From Me — Four Years Without Feeling the Ground A Twenties Lived on Dirt Every morning, these feet lift me out of bed. My twenties were lived on dirt. Ballpark dirt. Dirt jammed into my cleats. Dirt that ended up in my mouth after a slide into second base. After every game, when I peeled off my socks in the locker room, my feet were either red or black or both. I lost toenails more times than I can count. Blisters were a daily condition. Back then, I thought sore feet were just how it was. A baseball player's feet were supposed to hurt. That's what I told myself. Looking back, I never once thanked my feet during those years. They carried me to first base, to second, to home. And I never said sorry to them either. For thirty years, my feet lived inside these. Thirty Years Inside Dress Shoes When I left baseball, I joined a company. From that day, for the next thirty years, my feet lived inside dress shoes. I put them on before dawn and...