A salute to my favorite almost runner dad.

The topic of Runner's Lounge "Take it and Run Thursday" is Running Dads.

Well, I don't have a running dad. My dad does many, many amazing things, but running is not one of them. In fact, I don't believe I've seen him run a day in my life, other than that one time my mom almost blew up our campsite with the portable Coleman propane stove.

But I digress. My father is not a running dad.

Rich, the father of my children, is also a non runner. In fact, he is probably in the "only run when being chased" category. So, as a salute to you running dads, I'm going to tell a tale of the day Rich *almost* became a running dad. Rich knows I blog, but is one of the very few human beings left who couldn't care less about the Internet (no facebook, no twitter, nothing...), so he'll likely never see this. And even if he does, well...we can all just make fun of him together. (Seriously, he has a great sense of humor!)

Flashback: December 2007. The Ford Ironman World Championships in Kona had just aired on TV, and I of course DVR'd it and proceeded to watch it over and over again. To say watching the coverage is inspiring would be a complete understatement. One afternoon, Rich sat next to me and watched, along with giving me a complete running commentary of his view of the Ironman. And this is what I heard: " blah, blah , blah , blah , I could do an Ironman easily, it's not that hard, blah blah blah". Wait. Hold up. Did you seriously just say "I could do an Ironman EASILY?" I bust my a$$ running everyday to train to suffer through a marathon, and you could do that easily, while tagging a 2.4 mile swim and over a hundred miles of biking in front of it? Funny. Really funny.

Not yet a running dad Rich didn't think he was joking. After all, he was an all star soccer player in high school. How hard could this be?

Without hesitation, I called his bluff. He talks a lot of smack (we both do, the competition runs fierce in this house) but I, proud runner and wanna -be triathlete (who still flounders in the pool), was not going to let him slide on this one.

Put on the sneakers Papa. PROVE it.

To my surprise, he did. He grabbed those $19.99 Target specials that I don't' believe had ever been worn before, loaded the kid in the jogger, and off we went.

0.25 miles: Mommy took over the jogger.
0.40 miles: Daddy was asking how far we'd gone
0.50 miles: Daddy needed to walk.

Long story short, we ran/walked maybe a mile and a half before returning to the house, where Daddy, Mr "I could do an Ironman in my sleep" puked his guts out. While loosing the contents of his stomach to our toilet, I proceeded to gloat and ask him what he planned to do at the end of 140.6 miles, if he was making such a scene over a fraction of as much. I couldn't help it, I had to gloat. He apologized, and said he would never make fun of the likes of Norman Stadler again, even if he thinks bike shorts are incredibly girly.

It has been over a year since that day, and Rich now laughs if I ever suggest that he runs with me. Those $19.99 Target sneakers have yet to touch his feet since. He does, however, support this running mama 100%. From waking up at the crack of dawn to watch the kids while I go to a race, or taking over lunch time while I squeeze in a training run. Never once has he uttered a word about the money I spend on race entry fees (guess he figures it's better than shopping?) , or complained when I leave for a weekend to race out of town. I think he truly appreciates what I do, and I couldn't have accomplished any of this without him.

So, running partner, he is not, but amazing father? Well he takes the cake. Happy father's day, Rich (even though you may never read this). And happy father's day to all of you running dads and "almost" runner dads.