Ever since I was about 12, I have always felt like I move in fast forward motion to complete a task, while everyone else takes their time. I can tell you I had this one friend who lived up the road from me. We were best friends. We would meet half way on the street, and then go to one of our houses to play. I remember I would go to her house, and we would want to play a board game. Or play pool. She would take her time going to the basement, opening the closet door, and finding the game. She would take her time setting it up for us to play. Same with setting up her father’s pool table for us to play pool. Never in a hurry, never spastic. Never like me. I remember watching her, wishing I could slow my body down when I wanted to do something. I had no slow motion. Only fast forward. I am like this today also, at 42 years old. I try to tell myself to relax when taking a shower or bath, and take my time. Seven minutes later, I am out of the shower. Maybe ten if I lather up my hair really well. I filled a bath for myself after my first half marathon, and told myself to soak in the bath salts, and just BE. Um, let’s see, I think I stayed in there 15 minutes? My brain is on constant fast forward. I can hear my brain making that whirring noise that the cassette and video tapes used to make when we would press FF (Fast Forward for those not born in the 70s or 80s, and have no idea what a cassette tape is). It is exhausting, to have a brain like this. When I would hang out with my friend, I tried to take my time doing things, but it felt unnatural, and I was at my most comfortable stepping up the pace. I guess that is a good trait to have as a runner. So there’s that. I don’t have a slow speed. Even when I sleep, I flail around and smack my husband in his sleep. So, to those parents and guardians who are taking care of someone with a Fetal Alcohol Specturm Disorder, and you just want your kids to slow down, please know we would if we could. We may even try, but trying is exhuasting. Our brains are not faimliar with slow motion. To those living with an FASD, I get you, I hear you, as you buzz by me like a wound up match box car let loose.