The Running Gene

This is my dad:

I could write a post every single day just on him and what he's taught me.  He is the man who instilled in me the importance of education (he's taught every single grade level and retired as an administrator), taught me how far a good work ethic can get you, has shown me that family always comes first, has gotten me out of countless sticky situations, makes family dinner every Sunday and many, many more things. 

But that's not what this post is about.  This post is about a very important gene he passed onto me.  The Running Gene.  Now, I'm not the best with science, but I am pretty positive this is a real gene.  For as long as I can remember, my dad has been a runner.  My mom even told me that we watched a concert in Golden Gate Park while my dad ran Bay to Breakers.

I can remember him coming inside and stretching out his calves.  I remember him all sweaty from his morning runs as I crawled out of bed to get ready for school.  He is 66 and he still gets up and runs.  Every.  Single.  Day.  

My dad has competed in several races.  He ran 10 miles for his 50th birthday.  I thought he was absolutely nuts while I was growing up, but somewhere along the way, the running gene caught up to me and I couldn't deny it.  He was right there, encouraging me, telling me running stories, high fiving me when I PR'd, supporting me in every step of my fitness journey.

Having him in my life to support me and teach me the importance of exercise has been invaluable.  Some days, when I really, really don't want to run, I remind myself that my 66-year-old father has already finished running and is getting on with his day.  On family vacations, he makes sure we move our bodies.

And two Thanksgivings ago, when we were in Tuscon, AZ, he forced me out of the house on our own Turkey Trot, down a huge mountain and right back up it again.

So happy Father's Day to the best, most influential, fantastic daddy a girl could ask for.  I am so, so lucky to have such an awesome role model.