What Matters Most

Running, training and racing is a very selfish endeavor. I've always known it. You don’t cross that finish line for anyone but yourself. Yes, our community of runners and athletes is awesome but they aren't the ones who sacrifice their time for YOUR personal success. For 7 years, I've been asking my wife and kids to spend many of their weekends alone while I gallivant through the wilderness (e.g., not do laundry, not fix things around the house or not clean up the garage). It’s time to change that.

Some of you may have noticed that I am not spamming Facebook with all my latest runs or updating my blog with mileage or product reviews. To say that things have slowed down would be putting it mildly. Both my metabolism and mid-section are starting to show just how little running I've been doing lately.  Some folks have already started to take notice.

“Are you sick?” (No.)

“Did you injure yourself?” (No.)

“Are you tapering for another race?” (Only if tapering means drinking a lot of beer.)

Carvor - my dude.

Hadley - braces off!

2014 could be another year of epic sh*t. I could enter the lottery for Western States or Hardrock. I have enough points to register for UTMB. But I’m not.

I won’t be signing up for any major races this year.

These races will always be there. My kids will never be 10 and 7 again.

Today, I’m still cool enough to take them to the mall or get ice cream. They want to spend time with me. (I usually have to buy them something but hell, what dad isn't happy to reward his kids for doing great in school?) I wouldn't say I've been a poor father, but I wouldn't say that being a dad (and husband) has been my #1 priority…and hearing myself admit that makes me a little sad. I want my kids to know they mean more to me than a buckle or another race bib.

A Maui dinner with my wonderful wife...

Is this all a personal revelation? No. When you get to spend 7 kid-free-days with your wife in Maui, you actually get to talk in full sentences about things that don’t involve bugs, poop or Lego. When you have an honest conversation about the future you want to have for your family and your children, your part in that equation becomes pretty obvious. My kids deserve an awesome future – solid morals, a strong work ethic and the confidence to make their own decisions (and mistakes). I want that life for them, even if they don’t know it yet.

This is not about choosing to be a runner or a father. I will always be a runner. It’s part of who I am. But I love my kids and wife more. And right now, spending time with them means more to me than any trail or buckle.

They are who I am.

And I'm going to make sure they know it...

What is an Ironman?

As you might imagine, the table talk the last week at our house has been increasingly focused on how I'm feeling, how training is going and what I'm going to do once I cross that finish line and forever become an Ironman. Though it means the world to me, I don't think my kids have ever paid much attention to my endless hours of training (remember, my kids are 7 and 4) nor really understood what daddy has to do in order to become an Ironman.

Hadley (left) and Carvor (right) @ Shcnepf's Farm

So after asking them some interesting questions (followed by some  hilarious answers) at dinner the other night, I learned that becoming an Ironman (to them) meant that I would turn into this robot-like guy with a red and gold helmet with a pulsating light on his chest.

Ah, the power of marketing.

So after clearing up the confusion between the movie and daddy's race, the light bulb seemed to click on for them (at least for the 7-year old). At least now they know I'm swimming, biking and running in a race and not flying through the sky or shooting light rays from my hands (though, the latter might be awesomer according to my son).

The following day, after being sequestered in my office with a full day of phone calls my kids surprised me with some posters they had created (with the help of mommy). They hang right beside my desk and are a great source of motivation. It's a reminder that as adults, we naturally over-complicate things that are usually  pretty simple when viewed through the eyes of a child.

I'm pretty sure they don't care much about my race - oh, I know they support me and will be happy when I return victorious. But at the end of the day, I'm still just dad. And I wouldn't change that for the world.

(speech bubble = "I'm tired")

The order of events isn't important. It's the thought, right?