I called my Dad last night to tell him that I was planning to run a 50k in March. For the first time in my thirty years, he didn't offer gushing support for my new challenge. The conversation went like this:
Dad: So, do you have a spring marathon picked out?
Me: Actually, I have decided to do a 50k.
awkward silence
Dad: 50K... that is longer than a marathon.
Me: Yes - 31 glorious miles! Technically, its an Ultra!
Dad: Are you sure this a good idea? You always say that the last four miles of the marathon are the hardest. Also, you didn't look so good after New York and you ended up in the medical tent after Boston. Do you really think you can run 31 miles?
awkward silence
Me: Um... Well, its a trail race. This is very different. You go slowly...
Dad: (interrupting me) Well has Shelly done this? What does he think of this idea?
Me: He has done lots of trail running, but never a 50k. But, he thinks its a great idea and volunteered to be my support crew!*
Silence with sound of cocktail being gulped
Dad: OK. Well good luck with training and let me know how it goes. Make sure you eat - ALOT.
Me: Right! Speaking of which, I need to have dinner.
I am absolutely flabbergasted that my dad questions my ability to complete a 50k.Good thing he raised me well and taught me to never listen to naysayers!
* Technically, I informed Shelly that he would be my support crew and that his responsibilities would include opening the bottle of champagne for me when I finished and carrying my back to the car.
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