Happy Birthday to my Personal Trainer.
We've been through so much together.
You've helped me discover that daily exercise can be fun, inspiring, and beneficial to my diabetes life. You call me to check in on me and you make me feel like I'm never alone with this.
Remember when we went to that bar in Boston and then took that cab ride up to Cambridge and threw our peach pits into the Charles River? Or how about when you waited in the waiting room while I was at a Joslin appointment and you made friends with that little kid who kept asking for your autograph? Didn't he start for you on the Pacers? Or the time we got stuck on the T and accidentally ended up at the aquarium, so we just went in for the day? (Granted, you made me do laps around the penguin mountain for three hours, but I've forgiven you for that.)
Larry, you've been so good to me and you've really helped me stick to my exercise plan. I'm fitter and happier, thanks to your dedication to my health. My boyfriend thinks you are a good influence. My mother likes you. Even my nephew likes you, and called your "Big Bird" when he first saw your picture.
You once told me, "Kerri, there's more to life than diabetes. But there isn't anything more important than basketball. Now practice that jump shot."
I just want you to know how much you mean to me ... sniffle ... I promised myself I wouldn't cry! ... Happy Birthday, Larry Bird!
Dinner is at eight, right?
(Note: Everything you just read is complete fiction. But it would be cool if it was true.)