As far back as I can remember, Dad was a runner. I remember many of my evenings as a child looking like this: finishing up my homework around the table and seeing dad come in the door saying, "Ahhhh! I feel great!" after he had just come back from a run. I can remember the sweet smell of sweat on his body. I can still feel his sweaty hugs, given before he cleaned up for dinner.
Dad was a major runner. He ran for stress relief. Dad ran "away" from his problems and stresses. So much so that Mom would have to frequently strap my brother and I into the car and go out to pick Dad up from his 12 mile run over at the next town. During the early summer months, we'd plan family outings around Dad's run to the lake. Pick dad up on the way to the lake and have a picnic there. For many, many years Dad ran the 5 mile race that was sponsored by one of our town organizations. Every year we'd sit on the front porch and cheer as Dad and the other runners ran by. Every year I wanted to join them. I always felt so excited and jealous of the runners. I wanted to be them. When I was about 9 Dad ran his first and only marathon.
After that, Dad scaled back his mileage, just a bit, and got more into triathalons. As I got into adulthood, Dad's knees began to bother him and he took up hiking and biking, and turned his back on his passion: running.
The year before I turned 30 I needed to do something with my life and with my body. Finding myself barely able to walk up a staircase without being winded, overweight, struggling with asthma, and over the edge with stress, I remembered the look on my Dad's face those nights he came home, "Ahhh! I feel great!" I wanted THAT feeling.
So I did some research and networking and took up my now beloved sport.
Of course my Dad was there to coach me on my Marathon trip. He is the reason I ran the marathon, and he was the one I wanted to see at that finish line. When I finished my dad uttered words that has so rarely said to me, "Mandy, I am so proud of you." That was absolutely one of the best moments of my life. The part that bums me out is this: I haven't been able to run with Dad. I took up the sport too late. I have had a long, secret wish: to run a 5K with my dad. I've never held out much hope or mentioned it aloud to him, because I don't want him getting back into it and hurting himself at my expense. But this weekend, I got quite the surprise.
Dad joined me on my 4 mile run.
And this afternoon....we're going to go buy him some new running shoes. And he's got a smile when he talks about running again.
Maybe I'll get my wish....maybe....after Baby is born, Dad and I will run our first 5K together.
That is so awesome!! My kids came to cheer me on for my first marathon. When we got back home, they put mardi gras beads over their ears like ipod headphones and ran around the house saying they were playing "mommy marathon." They also know I run and see my trainer for exercise. So think of the great example you're setting!
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