My dear friend Jami will be pulling on her tough girl pants next week as she prepares for her husband’s heart surgery. She’s been on my mind a lot lately, and it got me thinking about toughness. Mental toughness, physical toughness, emotional toughness. None of these have historically been my strong suit. I was not born a tough girl. Of course, I was an adventurous child, who undoubtedly drove my parents wild with dangerous escapades. But the slightest injury and I was surely a ball of tears on my Dad’s lap. Even today, I am still exhilarated by the fresh reward of escaping shenanigans without injury. I peeshawed Gina and her watchful parents as they cautioned me against certain death as I insisted on clambering down the rocky Irish coastal cliff towards the ocean roaring below. I was alive with the excitement of making my way so close to the wild waves crashing below me – only slightly unnerved by the increasingly forceful winds blowing against t...