I know, I know, its not Triathlon Tuesday... Given that there are two days in the week that start with "T," I am able to procrastinate even more sometimes. Yay for me! Don't worry though I'll still get your Food Blog Friday up by tomorrow.
Today I wanna talk about my Dad. Now I got into swimming because of my sister, but I would say the rest of the road to triathlon was definitely paved by Dad. He'd always been a runner, a cyclist, and a dentist, so for me it ultimately became not a choice of whether to follow in my dad's footsteps, but rather of how to follow in them.
It's not Father's Day, or his birthday, and no, he's not sick... Honestly I don't know what caused me to write this, but I'm gonna go with it!
I remember a summer in Estes Park when I was probably in middle school, and Dad and I went on a mountain bike ride. I can't say I recall much of the actual ride, but I do remember the ride home. We had to pedal our way back to the hotel for whatever reason, and it was farther than we'd anticipated. Dad just kept saying "Just one more hill, Sam!" To this day I'm not sure if the old man knew he was lying to me, or if he was as lost as I was! After several "One More Hills" we made it.
It probably wasn't all that long of a ride, but to a sullen 7th grader who'd rather be on MSN Instant Messenger it was an Ironman. I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that in that instant I decided to become a triathlete. There was no great epiphany for that. But it did teach me to take things one step at a time... and also that my dad is a badass, because he went for a run after that and I passed out watching SpongeBob.
Later, I learned the old-world sensibilities of road cycling from my dad. Suddenly, I was spending summer weekends wearing spandex and contemplating the Nebraska wind with my old man. From there, it wasn't much of a stretch to jump to road running, and after swim season my Junior year of high school I ran my first half marathon.
What a lot of people don't know is that I was accepted into dental school, and nearly went, just like my Dad. I still remember the day I told him I'd gotten in... he looked like I punched him in the gut! Frankly, I think he is happy I followed the triathlete in him, and not the dentist.
I live in Omaha now, which is where my dad started his runner/cyclist/triathlete lifestyle. Not too long ago, I was running through the hills of California street near Dundee (dad's old stompin' grounds) when I heard some footsteps behind me. I know I'm not that fast on the world scale, but still, to be passed by a casual runner is pretty rare for me. This skinny, 20-something guy comes blowing by me on the hill up from Saddle Creek (a mile-long grinder) and I had to stop.
I swear, it was my dad as he was at my age. He had a shaggy head of hippie lettuce, a 70's mustache, some old school Nike flats, and those same orange shorts dad used to run marathons in! (Think of an Irish/Norwegian Prefontaine) I gave him a nod, and he gave me a knowing smile, and just like that, I was chasing my dad up a hill again. I took it to be a good sign... dad used to give me a beer after a ride or run under the premise of "don't tell your mother..."
I remember when I realized I could beat my dad on the bike. It was my junior year of college, and we were going up Trail Ridge Road, again in Estes Park. I was chatting away, my lungs totally acclimated to the altitude from 3 years of swimming in Laramie. When I looked back, waiting for a response, I saw my dad 100 meters back. I was simultaneously pumped that I'd finally dropped the wily old bastard, and sad... (why am I crying writing this???) If I could beat my dad, who would I ride with now?
We finished the ride together, and to this day I still love to go ride with me dad. After all, he taught me how.
Whenever I'm not sure of what to do in life, I always know I have a great example to follow in my dad. And, Dad, if I ever do decide to grow up, Just like in that Rodney Atkins song, I'll still know what to do, I've been watching you my whole life.
Wow, I just cried a lot writing this... and yep... I'm in a Starbucks... Good lord, I'm getting out of here. Love you, Pops! Until Food Blog Friday, FOLLOW THE PACE RABBIT!!!!
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