Tag Archives: dad
I recently have been getting into the ESPN 30 for 30 series. I just watched ‘Into the Wind’ by Steve Nash and Ezra Holland. I literally was sobbing through the epic human experience that is Terry Fox’s journey as an amputee from bone cancer running across the entire country that is Canada to raise awareness and money for Cancer Research. Please watch it. Tonight.
So this morning, I went for an early run on the Seawall in Vancouver. It was the perfect running weather with mild temperatures, overcast skies and the Pacific Ocean by my side. I rocked out to my playlist titled “Running Shoes On” and felt strong this early AM as a non-morning person.
Along the way, I felt sudden rushes of energy through my body that actually caught my breath patterns. Choked up, almost. My heart pulled a bit and I felt a welling in my tear ducts. In those moments, I realized I was so overcome at the thought of running with my Dad and crossing a race finish line with my Dad, I would almost start to cry. And then, all of a sudden, being in Canada just sparked the documentary I had watched last week with Terry Fox and I wanted to cry for him, too. I wanted to run for him, too.
Just rushes of insane and intense emotions that actually made my run so fast.
Made my run so enjoyable.
Made my run so fulfilling.
And I recognize now that this is possible in life. When we are moved and inspired by other’s actions, we can feel it in our own body. We are moved both physically and emotionally. We feel joy and fulfillment, if we choose to truly see others.
I want to live life like this everyday.
Inspired by others.
Moved in moments.
This was the content of the email I sent to my Dad and Mom on April 20th of this year:
Subject: Seawheeze 1/2 Marathon
Just sign up! I’ll run it with you the whole way!
That was it!
One week later, I called Dad to badger him about it thinking there is now way but why not? And what?! He responded that he had signed up. He was coming to Vancouver to rock 13.1 miles with me in August. Just me and Dad! Mind you, my Dad is not a long distance runner. I think the length of the basketball court was/is the name of his distance game.
So, I am sitting in the airport in Phoenix last night on a layover + delay, thinking about the 8 days to finish line. The evening before, my Dad and I had went for a quick interval run together in Houston – hello humidity, hello sweat. However, I noticed he had gotten so much faster. And, he was looking good! 13 pounds later, he said his clothes were fitting better. High five, Dad!
Anyways, back to sitting there in the airport,: I was listening to people complaining about the delay, handling restless children or throwing back a couple brewskies at the bar … And all of a sudden, I feel tears start to well in the bottom of my weird-timing-for-everything eyelids. Such a sap. But, I was just overwhelmed with gratitude, excitement and love.
One email, one action, sweaty runs together to tears in an airport to a future finish line.
What I want you to know is that, you just never know until you ask.
I’m so happy I asked.
If I were home today in Houston on Father’s Day, this is what it might look like:
Wake up, coffee with Dad. He makes the best brew.
Run with Dad at the park, as we are training for the Seawheeze Half Marathon with a goal to cross the finish line together.
Make Dad breakfast.
Is it noon yet for a Coor’s Light?
Rock out the pool volleyball court with the family. NOTE: Dad is ultra competitive, get out of his way.
Big tub of ice-cold Coor’s Light, his favorite on the lawn and a slab of Dad’s Special Ribs grilling in the driveway. Bliss.
Give gifts. This year he gets a pair of Vibrams. We shall see how long it takes him to put them on.
Listen to John Mellencamp rock out in the backyard and gift him a good ol’ cigar.
Then in the evening, eat dinner together off the grill and talk about how rad our Dad is.
Perfect Father’s day for a Dad who has and is raising three daughters, stands by my Mother with the most stoic and epic love I have ever experienced, does not look a day over 46 and can party like a rockstar with all of our friends.
I do say, I have a rad Dad. And I am truly grateful, appreciative and have mad respect for the man he is in my life. For giving me space, for letting me be me, and making me cry so hard that tears fall from behind both our thick glasses. For being the most radical man in the World.
I raise my Coor’s to you, Dad and love you always. Happy Father’s Day.
Okay, I admit it, I hate running and talking at the same time. I was never great with running partners because I never truly mastered the syncing of rhythm + speed +breath to allow for smooth conversation. Thus, my ability to talk without sounding completely out of shape was not there. Ego check? Oh yes, you’re still there.
So today, it was an incredibly glorious day. I had to get my feet in the sand and body in the sun! Give me that sweat and Vitamin D, please.
I begin the mile trek from my apartment down to Venice beach on my bicycle and my dear Mother calls. I am already rocking out to some 80′ s station on Pandora, so I flip the switch and answer. To my disbelief, she says my headphones are crystal clear. So, we are chatting about life, my day, her crazy day and what she is up to for the evening, all while I am biking and being very defensive and safe (hands free headphones). We actually continue the conversation while I lock my bike up and embark on my beach run. Smooth so far and really a beautiful distraction to my beginning-to-barkcalves due to barefoot on the sand running. Note #1: Beach runs are such a gnarly workout for the legs, get out there in that soft sand!
So a 1/2 mile in and Mom has to jet. I immediately miss the friendly banter and run partner of a family member via mobile unit. So I stop short and peruse the contact sheet, I dial up my sister. She answers and the run is back on. We chat about this and that, the sunny day here, the absolute absurd amount of bathing suits she owns, about our Mother …the usual. And my run is over! I am schlepping through the soft sand back to my bike and she hands the phone over to good ol’ Dad! There we are…chatting away about our upcoming family trip to Aspen, his birthday, when the family should visit me in California this Summer…and my bike comes to a halt and I am home.
What? How phenomenal is that?
Biking in the sun to the beach while talking to Mom. Running in the sand while talking to Mom. Continued and completed run while talking to Sister. Biking in the sun back home while talking to Dad.
It was one of the most enjoyable workouts … ever. Two of my favorite things coming together: family and sweating-in-the-sun. If you were like me with the ego around the out of breath convos while running, I say give it another try…well, and maybe slow down a notch! So yes, I highly recommend the family reconnection while working out in the sunshine and on the sand. #beautifuldistraction #clearconnection
Note #2: Take no mind to all the staring passersby who think you are crazy talking to yourself about swimsuits or your Mother while running. It keeps it interesting.
As I dig deep and look into who I really am, I look into who I invest my time with and how they have moved me in what I have called Project Inspiration.
I wanted to take this time to tell you how my father, Jacke Carr has inspired me and been a part of my life evolution, from the very beginning. You probably have one of these: the do-anything-for-you-coach-all-your-little-league-teams-loudest-dude-in-the-crowd-fun-loving father. Let’s compare notes…
You are the beginning. There from the first breath, to the first step, at the first softball game, to the first car wreck, from college good bye to the roadtrip to California. You’re my guy, Dad.
What I want to let you know is that who you are has and continues to shape who I am everyday.
You say ‘I love you’ every single time we hang up the phone. Every time. And knowing I am truly loved and cherished by my father is a gift no one else can give to a child. Knowing you are loved unconditionally instills confidence, enables possibility, and empowers choice. Thank you, Dad. I commit to one day make my children feel the exact same way.
Softball, basketball, all the sports – you are my head coach. You taught me the skills, you taught me teamwork, and you taught me how to be a leader. Thank you for being my coach on and off the playing field. Who you are as a leader inspires me, drives me and keeps me seeking for greatness in myself and those around me.
Oh, how I hate to disagree with you. You are such a passionate person which colors you such a vibrant human being. That stubborn spark inspires me to be passionate in all areas of my life and fight the good fight.
You and Mom’s relationship is one for the books. You are there for her, you love her endlessly, and you are her ultimate adventure. I am inspired by you in that space, and I hope Chris and I will continue to celebrate life just as you and Mom rock out your relationship.
Always up for an adventure, you are never one to sit on the sidelines of life. Thank you for making sure I never take life too serious, that I am always up for a good time and for letting me get in trouble. You are the life of the party. Always.
I cannot imagine being a Dad to three girls ranging in ages of 27 to 13, but somehow you keep your cool. I know you inspire A LOT of people out there with this one. But for me, your ability to relate in the midst of tears, how you tolerate all the drama that is sisters, and maintain your dude-like and oh-so-macho dad-like character is the ultimate. When given a life full of ladies that you might not have expected, you sure have done a great job raising radical kids. Keep up the good work.
And last but not least, your laugh. When I look back at those life moments that really move you, my favorite memories are filled with you and in the front seats of a mini van doing SNL impressions, pretending to eat the moon made out of cheese, and all of a sudden we are both laughing until the tears flow behind our glasses. That whole-hearted laughter that moves you, shakes you to the present moment. That ability to be present, laugh until you cry with your daughter and enjoy life reminds me that life is actually about the moments shared. Slow down and laugh until you cry.
Thank you for giving me life. Thank you for loving me, Dad. Thank you for inspiring me everyday to be confident in my choices, a leader in my own life, to take in the moments, expect the unexpected and be awesome.
As you continue to rock in this life, keep being who you are. And I promise that I will do the same.
Your Inspired daughter,