It seems I've hardly had a minute to reflect in the last month with so much going on.   I'm used to the feeling before Spartan races, especially when I've done barely the minimum training since the last one, of why am I doing this?   But I've done it enough so I know afterwards the endorphin rush will make me go register for the next one! 

This was race was different.   The last several races had been with Nadya and Vince running elite in the first heats of the day; so there was the thrill of watching them both cross the finish line, trying to get some good videos, and then having them run my heat with me and help me through the obstacles and share my burpees.

So this race, I was solo.  So as I was missing Nadya and Vince, naturally my thoughts went to Dad.  It's still really hard for me to believe that he's gone; that I won't walk into their house and find him sitting at the table reading.   And then my thoughts went to the first time I went and told him I was running my first Spartan race and showed him a print out about it from Wikipedia.

"What's the matter with you, do you want to join the army?"
"It's not too late to cancel."

In the end I think he was proud of me for running them.  But truth be told, I think he was the one who put it in my blood.  Who was the second or third expedition to the ruins in Bonampak?  Who did the first winter crossing of a certain route in the Sierras?   Who was swept down a river and given up for lost?

So my first solo Spartan in awhile.   180 burpees and some new obstacle masteries on my own.  As my CIRS treatment progresses and the inflammation decreases in my body, I find my physical strength returning.  One of the new buzzwords is "grit" (or perhaps I'm behind the times).   Anyhow, he taught me grit and that race was in his memory.


 

I will always remember him as strong.  A few days before he passed I wrote him a note on the whiteboard because he no longer would wear his hearing aids, (which didn't help much anyhow) that said "Thank you for teaching me to be strong.   I will always remember you that way."  

I remember the first time the occupational therapist came to the house and approved him for his baths in the bathtub, not being able to believe that he still had the upper body strength to get himeself up.   Even at end, he refused to drink with a straw and insisted on holding the cup on his own.   He refused all medication to "make him more comfortable."

It's different when someone has been pretty much part of your life daily for almost 4 years.   It's the little things that you remember.   Him reading the entire dictionary and Mom's old 1950s Encyclopedia Briticanna from cover to cover.  Tim going to watch Jeopardy every night with him.   He could beat the caregivers at scrabble.   He got mad at one of the caregivers when she gave him his potatoes upside down!   He didn't make it to see a woman president, but he did make it to see almost all his grandkids graduate from college, and he made it into 2017 and almost to his 59th wedding anniversary!

And, despite the lack of outward show of affection. he very much wanted to be sure Mom was taken care of.  That was the other note I wrote him a couple of weeks ago - "Don't worry, I'll take care of Mom"  and I will.