On running and fatherhood – The Michigan Daily
The Michigan Daily
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From Indianapolis to Evansville, Ind. to Chicago, my father has traversed the Midwest over the past 20 years, completing the same 13.1 mile stretch more times than I can count. I grew up watching my father run half-marathons — our house is littered with numerous bibs and medals from these races, a testimony to the grueling cause he subjects himself to year after year. The night before his races, we eat a large dinner as a family and then my mother, sister and I cheer him on when he crosses the finish line the next day. Over the years, I have seen him blossom as a runner and watched as his love for the sport has grown.
Truthfully, I have never been a runner in the traditional sense. I’m just not very good at it — I get winded very easily and my endurance isn’t the greatest. But, my father has always tried to instill a love (or at least a respect) within me for running. So, even though his skill and appreciation for the sport greatly surpasses mine, for as long as I can remember, my father has taken me on runs. They have always been one of the ways we spend time together, and each run we’ve completed holds a special place in my heart. While running may not be my thing, it is definitely our thing. And it is in those moments, where we are in pace with each other, breathing in unison, that my father has taught me some of life’s greatest lessons. At first, it seems that he’s talking about running, but his words of wisdom seem to transcend the sport every time. Who knew running could be so philosophical?
I’ve always been someone who gets engrossed with subtleties, and, because of this, I tend to get overwhelmed quite easily. When I was younger, every time my father saw me stressing over an upcoming assignment or test, he would suggest we go on a run. Most of the time, I would decline, opting instead to bury myself in my mounds of schoolwork. But on the rare occasions when he managed to convince me to go with him, it always lifted my spirits. On those runs, my father taught me one of the most important pieces of advice I’ve ever heard: slow and steady wins the race. Winning to my father has never meant beating other people, but instead achieving whatever goals you have set for yourself.
Slow and steady makes a lot of sense in running. Instead of using all your energy at the beginning in an effort to run fast, it is more sustainable in the long run to go slow. But, this motto is also applicable to life. I have always had the undeniable urge to go fast, preoccupied with thoughts of school and work and commitments. But my father was the one to show me that everything comes with time. In his words, “Life is a marathon, not a sprint.” As long as you believe in yourself and your strength, slow and steady will carry you a long way. He was the one to show me that it is okay to slow down sometimes and take a breath. For my father, every step forward is an accomplishment. If he runs even one more step than he did the last time he ran, it is something to celebrate. Now, as the demands of college life chip away at me, I always find myself going back to that motto. It has allowed me to slow down and to celebrate my accomplishments, as minute and mundane as they may be. I carry that sentiment with me in my heart and use it to remind myself in times of hardship that I am still going, still running, even if I’m slower than I was before.
This past October, I had the utmost privilege of getting to run a race with my dad. We ran the Ann Arbor 5K together, and while it was no match for the half-marathons he’s spent the last 20 years running, it was incredibly special for both of us. I had heard of the 5K a few months prior and decided on a whim that I wanted to run it with him. After hearing my idea, my father immediately accepted and I signed us both up. The night before the race, he arrived in Ann Arbor and we ate a large dinner. The next morning, we picked up our bibs and donned our matching shirts. Every race before this, I would accompany him on this ritual, but now we were doing it together. I wasn’t just there alongside him as he prepared for his race, but I was with him as we both prepared for our race.
Arriving at the starting line, I was incredibly nervous — it was my first official race — but knowing he was right there with me made my nerves dissipate. When we finally began to run, all I could feel was joy. After years of watching my father run races, now I got to run alongside him in one. Although he’s a lot faster than I am, he never left my side and we used that next half-hour to revel in each other’s company as we ran around campus. We ran the entire course without stopping, and I will never forget the feeling of crossing that finish line together. That was the moment I truly felt my own love for running because it allowed my father and I to share an incredibly meaningful experience with each other.
Papa, thank you for cultivating a love for running within me and, in turn, using our runs to impart your wisdom. Thank you for constantly inspiring me with your drive and your perseverance, for showing me that slow and steady does in fact win the race. It is because of you that I am the person I am today, and I will forever cherish the runs we have taken together. How special is it that we get to share this wonderful sport of running with each other and make a lifetime of memories in the process? Here’s to running the Ann Arbor 10K together in October.
Happy Father’s Day, Papa. I love you more than words can even begin to describe.
Statement Deputy Editor Ananya Gera can be reached at agera@umich.edu.
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