Last weekend I was out shopping. I was hitting up some local sneaker and record stores in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I was not really looking for anything in particular. I was looking for a good deal and enjoying my company for the day while sipping on an iced coffee that morning and a dirty Dr. Pepper that afternoon. I had been to quite a few stores and had seen lots of nice shoes, but nothing really spoke to me yet.
Then, as I was about to leave this one sneaker boutique, I saw them. One of my grail pairs of sneakers. A pair of “used” 2016 Space Jam 11’s. I picked up the shoe. It looked brand new. No creases. No scuffs. Pristine. And somehow… my size. I quickly purchased them while maintaining my nonchalant composure, but inside my mind and my heart were doing flips. I wore them the next day. I wore them to work for the first time today.
Here is why this purchase is such a big deal to me. When I was born, doctors noticed something wrong with my right foot and leg. The issue was also present in my left foot, but not as bad as the right leg and foot. I was quickly diagnosed with congenital talipes equinovarus, more commonly called – severe club foot. My parents were told that I would always struggle to walk, that I would need a walker or cane by the age of 12, and that I would be in a wheelchair by 21.
That was the prognosis. That was the prediction. I refused to let their floor become my ceiling. I wore the cast. I had the surgeries. I wore the ugly prescription shoes. I even slept in those god-awful shoes with that stupid brace between them. I embraced the struggle with every step I took. Every time I hit a growth spurt, the pain was so excruciating that I cried myself to sleep. But I never gave up. I never quit. I kept taking step after step.
Now, as I enter the final few years of my fifth decade on this earth, I can declare with bold conviction that those doctors were wrong. I am still standing. I am still walking. I do not need a wheelchair. I run 5Ks and even finished a half-marathon. That wheelchair-by-21-floor? I shattered it. And I’ve been flying ever since.
Just as Michael Jordan stepped out of a Birmingham Barons jersey and back into greatness, I’ve stepped into seasons that were never imagined for me. I am owning my story – not editing it. I am embracing the pain and tears that built me.
I refuse to let yesterday’s limits define today’s energy. I am intentional about the energy I carry into every space I enter – because I earned every step. Today. Tomorrow. Every day. Every step! Sometimes it takes seeing a grail pair of sneakers tucked away on a lower shelf at a sneaker boutique to remind me of this truth.
They said I might not walk.
Today I run.
Today I lead.
Today I fly.
Mr. Gragg 