As a young boy growing up I realized early on the power that my father had over me. Physically he was a giant standing 6'3" and weighing in at over 275 lbs. He served in the Navy during Vietnam, was an Army reservist and a police officer. He often sported a military haircut, carried a knife and handgun where ever he went and exuded confidence with every step.
Everywhere we went somebody knew him! After a while it got a little annoying. The last thing I wanted to do while in the grocery store was stand there for fifteen minutes as my father chatted with yet another person that knew him. It only prolonged the boredom of grocery shopping.
He always had to lend a hand to someone in need. I remember driving down the road in his truck and suddenly he pulled over to the shoulder, told me to stay put and jumped out into traffic to help push a disabled car out of the way. He hopped back into our truck and we were off again. Probably to coincidentally meet more people that he knew where we were going. That was the way that it was with him.
As I grew older into my teen years our relationship changed. My parents got divorced when I was about three. He saw me every week and on holidays. But as a teenager I longed for more time with him. We discovered a love of fishing together. We began to get to know each other better. Life was good.
Then one day while on patrol he suddenly passed out at the wheel. Luckily, he didn't crash into anybody or anything. A person driving by noticed him slumped over the wheel, stopped to check on him and used his police radio to call for help.
The prognosis wasn't good. There was a spot on his lung in the x-rays and we soon discovered that it was cancer. Things happened quickly after that. Doctors gave him a future lifespan of about six more weeks. The cancer wasn't only in his lungs but also everywhere else including his brain.
One of the reasons I'm so good at distance running is that stamina is hardwired into my genes. He didn't just surpass the six week mark, he blew it away and lived another nine months. Through chemotherapy, through radiation treatments, through losing all his hair and 170 lbs.
I was 16 years old and to say that this single event shaped the rest of my life is an understatement. The funeral was like the passing of a president. Hundreds of people who knew my father came to pay their respects. The mayor, the chief of police, regular people that he helped along the way during his life. There was a police and Army color guard, flags were lowered at half-mast across the city and there was even an article written about him in the local paper. He even managed to get buried in Arlington National Cemetery.
I dealt with his loss as best I could. I somehow managed to not get caught up with drugs or alcohol. Had a few run ins with the law but came away without a serious criminal record. Graduated high school by the skin of my teeth.
As an adult I realize now that my father wasn't a perfect man. He drank too much to deal with the stress of his life. Smoked like a chimney. Spent too much time out at bars than with his wife and newborn son. It's no wonder that my mother divorced him.
But when a loved one leaves your life their faults disappear and you're left only remembering their good traits. Over my life I've used those good memories to become someone my own son could be proud of. Sure, I've got my problems too. No superheros here. But everyday I try my best to be a good role model for him, the rest of my family and my friends.
Being a runner is one of the most important ways that I do this. When you get up day after day and find time to get out there, to not make excuses, to become better than you were the day before. Well then, you are being a good role model.
As a parent everything that you do is observed, judged and filed away in your child's beautiful little developing mind. They will model what you do. The good, the bad and the ugly.
This was extremely apparent to me just this last year. My wife and I were getting ready to take our son to the first night of a six week wrestling camp. He'd gone the previous year and seemed to enjoy himself. But, as we were putting our coats on I saw tears well up in his little eyes. I asked him what was wrong and he sadly looked at me and said that he didn't want to go. He said that he didn't like wrestling and that he wanted to do something else. He said that he wanted to run like me. It took all of my self control to not breakdown at that moment. Never have I felt so honored in my life. Needless to say, we cancelled wrestling camp.
I'm not my father. But if I can teach my son that hard work pays off, that eating healthy is important, that exercise is crucial to his well being, that life is too short to waste sitting on a couch watching TV all day. Then I'll call that a win.
Be a positive role model for your family, your friends, the random person driving by you as you live your life one step at a time out there on the roads. Chances are that someone is going to see you out there being a positive role model and maybe, just maybe say they want to run like you.
Run for your lives my friends....
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