Someone I know lost their mom today. She passed away after some time in the hospital so it wasn't a surprise and they got to say goodbye. I know that is a small concession; but I'm somewhat familiar. I couldn't help but think of how the situation resembled the passing of my dad. He suffered for three long (and somehow incredibly short) months with advanced cancer and we all lived in denial; but that's a whole other story.
My point is that I often ride for Dad, because I'm still able. I still can and I don't take that for granted. I push it up a hill in a race, gasping for air that I know I can get to my lungs. I inhale the headwind and think of it as a more efficient delivery of oxygen. OK, maybe not always, Dad knows I hate a headwind!
Dad wasn't a cyclist, but I know he would have liked to see me race. I like to think of him up there, playing pinochle, bartering for better weather. He wasn't the type to cheer, except for a sporatic (and loud) complaint to the referee (or official). I think of him fondly and know he pushes me a lot like the first time he pushed me on the bike 28 years ago.
1 comment:
This is pretty amazing, woman:) Can't think of a better reason, or inspiration, to work hard in life... lots to be thankful for.
-K
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