6.19.2016

Happy Father's Day...

A story about my dad...

Yesterday Blake and I ran a Ragnar (a 200 mile relay race over the course of 24+ hours). It reminded me of one of my favorite stories about my dad.

In 2003, I was home from BYU on summer break before I started my sophomore year of college. My dad runs a similar race to a Ragnar (Hood to Coast) every year on a company team. They needed an extra runner - I had just so happened to have been spending my summer dating boys, dishing Baskin Robbins ice cream, and running - so I jumped at the chance. Unfortunately, there are two vans used in these types of races and I was not in the same van as my dad or the cute college guy who was also filling in a no-shows slot. I was with a bunch of (old) strangers and as polite as they were the experience would have been all the more enjoyable had I been with my dad... or atleast the cute boy.

You finish the race in Seaside, OR along with a couple 1,000 other runners. It is crowded and confusing and everyone is hungover from either alcohol or running all night. My van was the first to hit the beach and after we found some grub - my teammates started to disperse with their family members and friends. I had told my dad that I would call him so we could meet up but there was a small problem to this plan. I was using a payphone and I only had 2 quarters to my name and for the life of me I could not remember my Dad's phone number.  Before inserting my coins, I practiced dialing out his number hoping something would jar my memory to remember the number that I had just spent the last year dialing every week when I called home from school. But it wasn't coming. At one point, I thought I had it and inserted a quarter to only have it ring and ring and ring. It wasn't the right number. At this point, utter exhaustion took over and I burst into tears - how was I ever going to find my dad?!?

A few of the members on my team said they were walking to the beach and not knowing how to deal with the displaced 19-year-old said that I could walk with them and we could try calling him again once I remembered the number. Disheartened, I shuffled down the main strip to the beach mentally trying every seven digit combination I could think of in an effort to jostle his number back into my short-term memory. Just as my overly-active imagination was beginning to take over with images of me forever stranded cold and alone in this beach town, I looked up to see spandex and a smile, also known as my dad, strolling towards me down the street.

Instinct took over and without even thinking, I sprinted strait towards him and jumped into his unexpected arms. His knees, exhausted from the recent mileage, buckled and we both almost toppled to the street. I didn't care - I found my dad and was no longer lost.

That is how I feel about my dad.

As long as he is around - I no longer feel lost.

So thank you for always being around...

3 comments:

HowellAZ said...

Thanks for making me cry. ;) Great story!

AndersonGR8 said...

Cry, Yea me too. Wonderful memories of seeing that happy face coming at me at 60 miles an hour!

AndersonGR8 said...
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