For My Daddy.

My dad and I after my first marathon.

Father's Day is coming, so of course my father has been on my mind this week. He means a lot of things to a lot of people, and I'm no different.He's been my employer, my cheerleader, my voice of logic (even though I still never listen to him), and the man who's told me "don't mess with bullcrap guys". When it comes to fitness, however, he was actually the first person to direct me toward its involvement in my life.

I, like most women, have had some insecure moments. My teens were the worst because puberty didn't bless me too well. In a community with stick figure chicks, I was the girl with a little more thigh, a bit more of a tummy, and low self esteem to boot. My dad would often make comments about working out, but I took to them negatively, as if he were picking on me like the kids in school did. At some point he stopped talking.

...Instead of talking, he started dragging me to the YMCA at 5AM to lift.

I won't lie. I hated it. I would rather have been asleep until 6:30. But with those mornings, he planted seeds that would shape my life. Over the years I started paying more attention to my overall fitness. I played volleyball, rollerbladed, meticulously cut out sugar, and by the time I was 19 (with the help of a drill sargeant, cross-country runner who loved to hit the gym), I was lifting on a regular basis.

Dad started what would become an integral part of who I am. But the coolest thing he did? It happened just before my first half marathon in 2008. Everyone in my family was majorly supportive of what I was doing. My godmother and godsister made me a basket with carb-friendly goodies, my marathoning uncle (who deserves his own post) gave me his running watch. And one night while visiting my folks, my Dad gave me a pair of red Nike Triax shoes. Dad's always been pretty nonchalant about gifts, and the way he handed me that box was like he handed me a piece of paper. I'm sure he didn't realize that getting new kicks is like Christmas morning. It was the last thing I got before that Sunday, and probably the most prized gift he ever gave me. To me, that was the first moment I felt like a bonafide runner.

I will always love my Dad. He was the first man to tell me I look pretty without make-up. He was the first man to tell me guys need to earn me. He is the person who yells at me when I fall short of my potential and the first to praise me when I live up to it. And as you can tell, he was the first person who made me believe that I can do just about anything I put my mind to...including running a marathon.

Thanks, Dad.

--Ash