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SALT LAKE CITY — As Father's Day draws near, I would like to pay tribute to my first running partner: my dad.
Many movies have depicted a little girl standing on her daddy's feet as he holds her hands and they dance. It's an endearing picture of the love and tenderness that countless fathers show their daughters. When I picture my "little girl feet" and my father's, however, they are not on top of his, dancing to classical music. Rather, our feet are side by side, running to the sounds of nature while thinking about life's contemplations.
One of my earliest memories is my dad running the St. George Marathon in 1987. It was his first marathon. I remember eating my first pomegranate and looking up to see my older brother finishing the last stretch with him. I didn't realize at the time what an amazing accomplishment that was, but I do remember knowing — even at the tender age of 5 — that I wanted to do what he did.
I remember the day when I was old enough to go for a "real" run with him. It was on a parkway that ran through the High Line Canal in Aurora, Colo. I remember three very distinct sounds: one was the sound of the water running on either side of us, and another was my Chuck Taylor knockoffs slapping on the pavement. Most distinctly, though, I remember the patient, encouraging voice of my dad. Not once did he tell me to hurry up, or act frustrated when I needed to stop and walk. His kind, tender voice and reassuring words helped me to finish that first run, and many, many more to come.
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While most of us are sound asleep, Cody Moat is out running the trails near his home in Fillmore, Utah. His inspirational story is one that that will have you saying, "If he can do it, so can I."As I got older and entered the world of competitive running, that was the one constant: the encouraging voice of my dad. When other dads were sitting in the stands, cheering on their kids from afar, with camcorders in hand, mine was strategically placed at the last 200-meter mark of the 800-meter run. This was my most difficult part of the race, and having him there, calmly cheering me on, gave me that extra boost to finish strong.
This past year, as I turned the corner for the home stretch of the St. George Marathon, there he stood, cheering me on to a personal-best time of 2:54.04. He may not have been numbered among those cheering at the finish line, and I may not have recorded video of me running as a child — recording was my husband's job this year — but he was always there standing where I needed him the most. This, I will never forget.
Some may read this and assume that I am an only child. I am one of 10, and my dad has a way of making us all feel special, especially his daughters. One of my last memories of my older sister, who has since passed away, is of all three of us girls running with him; all of us running to the sounds of nature, life's contemplations and dad's tender voice.
Arianne Brown is a graduate from Southern Utah University, mother to five young kids and an avid runner. Contact her at ariannebrown1@gmail.com, go to he blog at runariran.wordpress.com or follow her on Twitter @arimom5.
