Making my Pops proud

This past Sunday was both the Kitzbühel WCS race and Father’s Day in the U.S. I was able to give my dad (self-proclaimed #1 fan- he actually signs emails with that) a pretty special Father’s Day present by finishing 3rd- my first major podium finish and the first WCS podium by a U.S. woman. I know that he watched the race from start to finish, as he does with every race. When I crossed the finish line, I couldn’t help but imagine him, along with my other loved ones, in the early-morning glow of their computer screens. They’ve been there all along, over the years that I’ve been racing and through all of the tough times (and there have been many). I’m just pleased that they could share something special like this with me, albeit with an ocean separating us.

To be honest, I went into the race thinking that the best present that my dad would get from me this year would be to (grudgingly) fulfill his request for one of the Groffy-bumcentric race posters. I didn’t feel especially great going into the race and had only questionable confidence about my fitness. I had a decent swim and tried to have fun on the winding, scenic bike course, even when the hail started to pummel us. Once I was able to pull my flats on with my cold-numbed fingers, I had to bridge a fair gap to the front group, but the second that I found myself there, I was determined to hang on as long as possible. I was able to sit behind super-athletes (and super-nice) Paula Findley and Helen Jenkins and watched as girls were popped from the group one by one. Going into the last lap, I was a bit shocked to find that I was the last one still running behind the two leaders. When Helen and Paula surged and left me in their dust, I had to redirect my focus to maintaining my form and speed for the rest of the lap. By the time that I reached the blue carpet of the finishing straight, I had enough time over the 4th place finisher, the speedy Emma Moffett, that I was able to enjoy my moment. And yes, a few happy tears were shed in the process.

While my #1 fan wasn’t able to be there with me in person, he has been there all along, from my very first triathlon. Thank you, Dad, for teaching me patience and the value of hard work. Thanks for never pressuring me to get a “real job” and for believing in me. Thanks for giving me your cheesy sense of humor and showing me that you should always be able to laugh at yourself. And, finally, thanks for your genetic contribution. Who knew the Groffy hay bale-lifting genes might translate decently to triathlon? Seriously, Dad, I couldn’t ask for a better father than you.

Thanks to everyone for their kind messages after the race! And thanks for not teasing me too much for my post-race tears. Feel free to tease my coach for getting teary-eyed, however. He pretends to really tough, but he is actually a fairly sensitive dude. (Sorry, Daz- your cover is blown.)