What day is it?

Today is Father's Day. As I had a very abusive father, I never really had a relationship with him. I can easily recall those days of violence but never recall kindness. I always hated my mother for staying with the man who beat her bloody many times… It was only after the birth of my son that my father and I actually started talking once I left (escaped) his abuse after high school. We were barely getting acquainted when, on Thanksgiving Day, 1994, my son was visiting at his farm where my son had his right hand amputated when out in the barn with his grandfather. It was ruled an accident, but an already frail relationship just eroded to nothing. I have spoken little with him since. I tried to reconnect in the spring of 2006 when a dear friend convinced me it was the right thing to do. But that was short-lived. I have not spoken to him in over a year. So today is a bitter, sad day.

As with many fathers I speak with, we are polar opposites of what we had as a father unless we had a great father. (And I love that quote from Parenthood "We need a license to drive a car, to get married, but any shit can be a father.") While my father was controlling with anger and demanded perfection, I expressed to my son his individual spirit and ability to stand alone and always be happy when he knew in his heart he did the best he could. I did a great job; he is doing well in Germany now. I wonder if I will hear from him today.

I did get out for a long run yesterday—11 miles. It was not fast, 12-minute miles through the woods, but the knee was stable. I also went for a 26-mile bike ride. It was a nice day, although there were those frustrating moments knowing that it was the day before Father's Day.

During the run, I had some quality time to reminisce… I thought hard about how I was lost before 2006 and felt lost, just making it through raising a son, generally unhappy with my life individually. I thought of Dana. I met Dana in February of 2006. She had just lost her husband in an accident the year before. We were both long past lonely and, well, really lost. She was 10 years younger than me, and we were just friends. She had a goal to remarry someday and have children. I was done being a father. But we clicked… Better than anyone in a short span… Together, we started running to do an ultra. We pushed each other, we laughed, we cried, and we became great friends. There are few times one can honestly say we had a great friend. But with Dana, I was just happy. In the words of Forest Gump, "We were peas and carrots." Then, in July of 2006, Dana was killed in an accident. I never really cried, I never really understood, I never believed it. We knew each other briefly, but I never felt anyone knew my hopes and fears as she did. She was special, and I sure miss her.

Anyway, where is all this leading? Running, relationships, happiness, and being a good father have much in common. No matter how hard you try to do everything perfectly, it never will be perfect. We can not control the emotions of others, the elements, the injuries, and the social impact of this world we live in. We can only control how we react. In the past months, since I failed the first attempt at 100 miles, I lost my ability to react without regret regarding my running. I have second thoughts about whether I really needed to quit. I have those thoughts about my relationship with my father… What could I have done differently…? With my friends, how could I have been different? What is ironic is I fall into relationships with people like my father, except for the violent part. These are hard to accept.

I realized that sometimes, no answer is the best answer. I just need to learn to accept that answer and move on… Just like the knee stopped me from running for some time, I am still bouncing back. That is what we need to do: keep pushing on with what God gave us or took away…

Carry on…