I’d like to take this time to wish my father a Happy Father’s Day. He has always been there for me and supported me in every direction I’ve head. From supporting me thru sports to waving goodbye as I’ve moved across the country, he (as well as my mother) have let me venture off away from the nest. Where does this fit in to running? Read on…

Growing up in North Dakota, I was entrenched in seasonal sports. Football in the spring followed closely by hockey in the winter. Spring and summer where split between baseball, golf and mowing lawns (in my mind I considered mowing lawns a sport). The furthest sport from my mind was track. I threw the spot put and discus in eight grade but I wasn’t into at all. In high school, the football coaches at Fargo South High School (Go Bruins!!!) kept pushing me to the track team but I just couldn’t do it. What would you rather do, run laps or walk 18?

Take a trip back with me to the late 1970′s and 80′s. Then in my adolescent years, I never really paid much thought to the “modified” gray New Balance shoes in the garage next to the door. “Modified” may not be the best term to describe the 2 pounds of Shoe Goo that my dad used to keep the shoes together. I can still remember his running gear. A simple white cotton shirt (the kind you wore underneath “nice” shirts), shorts and toilet tissue in his hand (do I really need to explain?).

My dad was a “runner” before the boom. He didn’t compete in races and he wasn’t a member of running group – he just ran. He’s fathomed a guess at his weekly mileage and it was big. I remember several occasions my mother driving him out into the country so he could run home with the wind. We’re talking 10 to 15 miles several times a week. Saturdays at the lake where he would be gone for a couple of hours and come back drenched in sweat. Cotton shirts that were worn so thin you could practically see thru them.

Back then I never questioned his running, never asked if I could go and he never pushed me to run with him. But now that I’ve taking up running and he can no longer run – the example he set some 20 years ago has stuck with me. I know he’d give his left arm to run a race with my sister and I and we in turn would do the same. The truth is, there’s a part of him that is running with us every time we lace up our shoes.

Thanks Pa!!! You led by example – in running and in life – and I am trying to follow in your footsteps the best I can. Happy Father’s Day and I love you very much.