Running Toward Myself

F is for Fathers....

After The Flying Pig, May 2010

Whew! What that a week that just flew by me or what?  Fortunately, at the end of that crazy-busy week was a wonderful reward....a trip back home to Indiana to spend a much-needed week catching up with friends and family. Each summer I spend one week back home reconnecting with my roots and rejuvenating my soul, and I relish the chance to be back, if only for a short time, in a place I will always and forever consider HOME. I am especially glad to get to spend Father's Day with my dad...Sam. I feel truly lucky to have had my dad be an active part of my entire life, as I see so many people who are affected by the absence of a father in their lives. 

Although my dad doesn't understand my love of running and fitness, he does support it. He and my mom have traveled all over to watch me run and coach, and words can't express just how much I appreciate their love and support. From mile 23 of my very first marathon in Columbus when he mistook my bestie Sue for me, running alongside her with water yelling, "You can do it kid! We are so proud of you!" to my fastest marathon in Cincinnati when he and my mom braved the downpour and lightening to maybe catch a glimpse of me as I slogged by, then somehow found me at the finish to give me a hug and tell me how proud he was of me, he's been there as much as he can and more than I would have ever asked him to be.

My father is a worker. Work is his hobby. So, you can naturally see how my love of running and desire to tire myself from running instead of working is completely befuddling to him. My parents own a trailer court (my dad's favorite shirt reads: "Mess With Me and You Mess With the Whole Trailer Court"), and our usual route in my hometown winds through it at least once, sometimes, twice, depending upon our mileage for the day.  No matter what he's doing, if  he sees us run through, he will always stop and offer us water on a hot day, or toss us words of encouragement as we pass, or, sometimes, hurl comments about how crazy we are if the weather is especially crazy...like during a snowstorm. Now that I don't live back home, my friends will tell me about runs when he is still out doing the same thing for them as they pass...maybe as a show of silent support to me. At least I like to think that way. Isn't that the hallmark of a great parent? When they completely and utterly do not understand your decisions but support you in them anyway? I think it is. And I can never repay all of his support in my endeavors....even in lieu of his confusion.

They might be older, but they are still adventurous!

My dad isn't perfect...no parent is. There have been crummy times and times wherein I wondered how God had royally screwed up and somehow delivered me to the completely wrong family. But there have been many more good...and great...times than anything else. As my father ages and begins to mirror many of the images I have of my grandfather instead of my young, strong father, I truly cherish each and every day I get to spend with him and don't take a single one of them for granted.

Love you dad!