I had dinner recently with two dear friends.  We had met fresh out of college in (yikes!) 1975, after landing our first teaching jobs. 

That was also the first year that Title IX took effect, guaranteeing gender equality in all public school activities, including athletics.  Schools were scrambling to find coaches for their newly formed teams, and were obviously desperate as they hired me (the perpetual cheerleader) to coach basketball.

At dinner that night, in addition to toasting how good we looked for our ages, my friends and I also toasted what we had endured as women coaches.  And it wasn't until that moment that I realized what pioneers we had been.

We never thought of ourselves as courageous.  But looking back, we most certainly were!  We endured wise-cracking comments from the male coaches, made do with untenable practice and game schedules, and worked with limited and worn out equipment, all the while receiving no support from our beleaguered athletic director. 

The icing on the cake came one day when the mother of a player asked me incredulously, "You mean she's going to practice every day?" suggesting that the team could succeed with just "one or two a week."

I'm telling you this not because I relish the thought of you calculating my age, but rather to admit that I, too, suffer from lack-of.  It's a common, although not often diagnosed, disease that plagues our gender.  Its symptoms include lack-of recognition for a job well done; lack-of self-congratulation for having taken on a tough task; and lack-of appreciation for improving (even slightly) someone else's place in life.

As women, we just don't give ourselves enough pats on the back.  It's deemed impolite, conceited, and certainly not courageous.  Well girlfriend, I'm here to say it is VERY courageous to feel good about having done your best. 

Furthermore, it's a fact of life that when you're rewarded (and recognition is reward) for doing something right, you're more inclined to do it again.  Think Pavlov's dogs here.

So here's your challenge. For one week, at the end of the day during some quiet time, when you're cleaning up the kitchen or getting ready for bed, think of one good thing you did that day. It might be huge, it might be tiny - it doesn't matter.  What does matter is that you have the courage to recognize that you did good. 

That, my friends, is the cure for lack-of.  How wonderful you don't have to wait 36 years for the cure like I did!