The Beast-Running for My Dad

“Tips up.”

“Put the rope between your skis.”

“When the rope gets tight, stand up and lean back.”

That’s how my dad taught me to water ski.  We had this old aluminum fishing boat with a 9 horsepower engine.   My brother would have to sit up in the front, or the nose would rise too far out of the water.  I skied on a pair of adult skis that my dad had cut down.   

Eventually, we moved up to a proper motor boat, and real slalom skis, but what did not change was my dad driving the boat.   He spent hours driving us around that lake...taking us through the whip so that we could work on our leans and sprays...and, alternating my brother and I through the slalom course, so that we could turn on a dime.   Rick and I spent countless hours behind that boat.  We were competitive, and we held our own with the Ski Nautique skiers on the lake.  The rest clamored to go tubing.   My dad took the helm for all of us.

When he would drive us by our house, we would flash four fingers if we wanted to drop off.   Rick never wanted to be dropped off, and I remember pouting to get my turn.   “Hey Kid (capitalized, because I truly believe he thought that was my name), You’ll get your chance to show what you know.”

I run every February to remember my Dad’s birthday.   This past weekend, I toed the line at the Beast again.   I was going to take a pass on the race.  I even begged the Race Director not to let me register.   Long story short, that didn’t work.

The morning of the race, I opened a cabinet and found my dad’s passport.   Looking at his eyes, I could almost hear him saying “Go get it, Kid”.  

Okay, Dad.  I’m not flashing up four fingers on this one, I’m in and I’m going for it.   

The Beast was kind to me.  It was cold, but, heck if I can’t deal with the cold by now, I’m doing something wrong.   The course was as tedious as always, but I took the chance to talk to friends and other runners I’ve never met.   I was in no rush to finish, and cared more about sharing the trail with others then I did about getting my finisher coin.  When I finished, I cleaned up and helped at the aid station.   Throughout the course of the day, I gave pep talks, cheered, filled water bottles, shared advice and just felt part of the Beast community.   I actually spent more time helping others than I did actually running.   It was when I was driving home, that my Dad’s words hit me, “you’ll get your chance to show what you know.”

I love you Dad and miss you always.

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