My training is getting much more serious now. I’ll be running my first half-marathon on Thursday, so it’s time to pick the site for a full marathon, adapt my body to taking in nutrition on the run, and think about meals before the long runs a little bit harder. I made one of those decisions.
As a young parent, you’ll always get the advice “Be careful. You never know who’s watching.” I’m going to run in Memphis, so hopefully, my parents can be there to see me finish.
Today, as I ran, I realized that this is a lifetime event, and I want my family, including my parents, close to me. I’ve been close to my parents, but haven’t always checked in as often as I should, so it’s strange in some ways that I should feel this way. But as I thought about the experience of running, I realized that my father was once a runner, too. I remember talking about him as a young boy about the fastest people in the world and the four minute mile. I even remember running with him a time or two—I got too bored to make it stick—but the experience stayed with me. I never considered myself a runner. It never held my interest. But you never know who’s watching…
My wife and I talk about the amount of travel I must do in this job. In truth, I work, potentially for less than I could make at larger companies, because I can be home for my kids on the days I am home. To me, it’s not the occasional trips that burn you. It’s the eight-to-seven grind that will get you. I see my kids for many hours a day. I can take off time to go on vacation, or pick up my daughters from school, or just be in the house. My door is always open. My fathers was too. You never know who’s watching…
I also remember my father leaving his company to strike out on his own. He was a quality control engineer, and made a good living as a consultant, putting all of his kids through college. I’ve followed that plan, too. I never considered myself an engineer, or a quality control man, but a couple of years ago, I talked to my dad about getting started as a consultant. I’ve taken some of those lessons with me as I struck out on my own. You never know who’s watching…
I was watching much more than I’ve ever realized before.
Thanks, Dad.