Father's Day is rapidly approaching and upon reflecting on my relationship with my dad, I thought it would be timely and appropriate to dedicate this week’s blog to my dad. My parents divorced when I was seven and although it was hard in some ways it was better for my brothers and I relationship with our dad. How is that possible? Dad was more focused on us after the divorce. We actually saw him more and spent more quality one-on-one time with him after he left our home. It was hard, but in the end he was there for us, perhaps more than he might have been if he had stayed with our mother.
Dad is the reason that I am athletic; not the sole reason, but a very big reason that I am the person that I am today. We spent many Saturday afternoons at the park; where my brothers and I learned how to play whiffle ball, basketball, and baseball. I learned soccer well before the sport became popular in the United States, from playing with my dad and brothers at the park.
We spent many hours taking hikes and enjoying the great outdoors. Dad had a real love for sports and passed that love to myself and my brothers. Dad was a basketball star in high school and I remember him trying to teach us how to do lay-ups at the park. Much to his dismay, none of us were born basketball players, but it didn't take us long to find our niche in sports.
Dad taught us to swim at an early age. His love of the beach and swimming remains a major part of his life and ours. Dad lives in Florida half of the year where he swims laps in his pool and takes a walk on the beach daily. We were like fish as early as four and five years of age. We were far ahead of many other kids we knew growing up who feared the water. Swimming became a major part of our lives recreationally and later competitively. Most Saturdays in the winter months we swam at my grandfather's indoor pool.
Most dads show their kids some sport type activities and that doesn't guarantee that the kids enjoy it as much as their dad does. But for me personally, the reason I loved those activities is because it was time spent with my dad where he was engaged and focused on us. He seemed to be really happy during these visits and the happiness transferred to me as a kid. Sports were a way to connect with my dad. We could play and talk and interact with each other in a positive manner. He was an encouraging, “coach," during our play times.
In the seventies my dad took to the running craze. I remember he wanted to lose some weight and he started to run at the high school track down the street from where I grew up in Northeastern Ohio. I would go to the track sometimes with him and watch him go round and round. The time he spent running seemed to take forever as a spectator. I soon found myself taking a lap or two with him. I did not have an immediate love of running and I often wondered as a kid how and why he ran around that track so many times.
But as time went by I found myself going to the same track and doing some laps around myself only to find that I did enjoy it. By the time I got to middle school I was regularly running on my own, and went out for the track team in seventh grade. I ran the mile and half mile and loved it. I loved the freedom I felt from running. I didn't care where I was going, but I knew how I felt when it was over. Dad used to say the same thing. That he didn’t, “feel right," if he didn't get in his run. The endorphins released from running obviously affected my dad in a good way, as they did for me as well. When I first started running and told my dad about it he said, “I’ll warn you, running is addictive." Boy was he right.
One of my fondest memories with my dad is the time I went running with him and his friend George. They loved to run on country roads down in Peninsula, Ohio. We would run out by a farm called Szalay's where we would purchase our summer corn and other treats. At the time I was only about twelve, and thought I could run as far as they could. The reality was that I was only really able to run around two to three miles. My dad and George always did a minimum of five miles, but the day I decided to tag along they were doing six. Piece of cake, right? It was a typical hot and humid summer day in Northeastern Ohio, and I had to take quite a few walk breaks. Dad didn't care. He and George would circle around me and run back behind me so I wouldn't get lost. They never stopped running, but they never let me out of their sight either. I was never so happy to see the car that day, parked on the side of a corn field. I remember sprinting to get to the car. My dad replied with, “She’s like a horse to water." He and George cracked up at this.
He never got mad at me for not keeping up and at the end he was smiling with pride that I had made it back to the car. "I bet you'll think twice before you want to do that again," he said. But what he didn't know was that I would try again and again.
Dad developed bone spurs in his back years later. The doctor told him it was a result of pounding the pavement too much. The diagnoses; no more running. He could walk; ride his bike, swim etc. but no more running on concrete. My dad went through a bit of a depression as a result of not being able to run. I wished that back in the early eighties there had been the therapy pools like they have now. I recently told him about the HydroWorx pool with the underwater treadmill and he said he tried one recently at his Suma Health Club in Ohio. Still, I can't help but think that if Dad had access to one of those pools earlier he may still be running today.
When I started swimming competitively in eighth grade I think my dad was kind of shocked. He knew nothing of the sport except for recreation purposes, and when my younger brothers decided to join the swim team as well, I think my dad was a bit sad that none of us followed in his basketball footsteps. But that did not discourage him from coming to all of our meets and cheering us on. As a mother of two very sports oriented boys, I can now really appreciate all the time our dad spent at our sporting events. Sometimes the last thing you want to do on a Saturday is watch a kids event, but he did it and with enthusiasm.
Nine years ago when I did my first triathlon my dad was really excited. I think he thought that after one of those events I would be done with it. Last year when I did my first half ironman event he said, “You’re outta your mind kid, better you than me." He'll never really come out and completely give a compliment, that's just not his style, but I know that he has mentioned my stats to his tennis buddies. Dad took up tennis about ten years ago when he retired. He kicks my butt every time we play. He always says," You do triathlon; you don't have time to practice tennis, but if you did you'd be good."
I'm proud of my dad. He has spent his life staying active and fit and he has passed that lifestyle to his children. He enjoys being outside and spends his days of retirement walking and swimming and biking around town. He has big baskets on the side of his bike so that he can ride to the grocery store as he does most of the shopping now. He says," Every day is a good day." I think that is the best motto anyone could ever hope for. Dad is getting older and he's slowing down a little. He gets cranky if his misses his walk or his tennis with his boys. He is a role model that has helped me love life and triathlon. Thanks Dad!
By the way he doesn't even know what a blog is. A classic line from Dad when I told him that I blog was, “What the hell is a blog?" Someday maybe he'll see this. Probably not, but I know he knows in his heart how much of an inspiration he is to me.
Tri-On,
Kelly
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