Happy father’s day dad
Men’s 10K
Every year, for the last 5 years I’ve done this race to honour my father; as a way to celebrate father’s day with him, without him. That’s my present.
It is about getting out there, doing one of the things I love the most and do the best race I can, work hard and give it all for the person that has already given it all for me, always supported me (even the most complex circumstances) and taught everything I needed to know to become the person I am today. It is a way, through effort and commitment to pay him back his own. But it is also, a way for us to bond in a different manner despite the distance.
He actually asks for his medal, because it is exactly like that, it is not mine; I just happen to do the racing part. So, next time we see each other, I’ll put it around his neck, he will smile with happiness and pride, and even brag about it with my mom in a joking manner, showing it off, looking to make her jealous. It is our thing.
This year was a tricky one, I missed the registration window and the race sold out earlier than expected, leaving me out of it and totally disrupting a tradition I instated since I moved to Glasgow; but most importantly, giving me with this feeling that I was letting down my dad and that, even when I know he would be ok, that I was taking away our thing.
However, no matter how unlikely things can seem at times, it is not over until it actually is. Giving up is never an option and not trying, is the only thing we cannot do.
I’ve been for over a week looking for a place within my usual running circles/friends letting everybody know that I needed a spot, because no matter what race it is, there is always someone pulling out last minute, for any reason. However, this year apparently was the exception, believe it or not, no one appeared.
There was only one option left for me, going to the number’s desk and try to persuade them to let me race, based on the circumstances and the actual motive behind my ask.
In case you don’t know, the great majority of this races, despite everyone does it, they don’t allow runners to transfer their numbers; the reason been, that when a person registers, they need to provide basic medical and emergency information in case something happens on the day to any of the participants. This race was not an exception, but I wanted to try anyway.
Guess what?!
It didn’t work.
Despite of the desk lady emphasised how sympathetic she was with the reasons I gave her (I missed the entry period and it is a very important race to me, I do this race for my father) she said that unfortunately she could not offer me a place, even after the race was started and no one else would collect numbers (which I suggested), due to the medical details attached to it. Fair enough. Not cool though.
Almost defeated, and with very few options left, I checked my messages one last time, to surprisingly find someone telling me I could use his. He had decided to pull out because of a cold. There was one problem though, the message was sent last night I missed it, now I’m standing there, 30 minutes before the starting time with a spot, but no details for collection. I already contacted him with no success.
What to do?
Well, there was only one thing to do, keep trying until it was no more chance for trying.
At this point, I’ve been given options by friends, which included just wing it, race without the number and don’t collect the medal and the t-shirt (I didn’t care about the latter). Or just try to get the other guy’s bib number using his name.
The first plan was the strongest option, although not getting the medal made it look not that attractive, at the end of the day that’s the main aspect of this race, it’s a symbol.
The second had it’s challenges too, there was this lady that already saw me and knew I didn’t have a number, but also, if they ask me any other details to verify my identity, I had none.
Then, the unexpected happened, about 5 minutes before the race started the guy appeared, mentioning he was going through his emails to send me the information for collection, all this in what seemed to be the longest minute ever, only compared to the longest 20 seconds (probably less) that took my email to refresh while I walked to the opposite side of the numbers’ desk, diving my back those that already saw me.
I got the number, put it on, went to my guys who received me into the starting line in the most victorious way, like we already won!
Once I got in, the clock started to tick, 60 seconds to go. Lace my shoes, and then lace them again. 10 seconds to go, we are ready, I’m ready. We are off.
43 minutes later I crossed the finish line, felt incredibly happy but most importantly, I got my father his medal.
Happy father’s day dad.
I love you,
J
This article is part of my #100DayProject #100DaysofWriting — Day 76 of 100
