8 Years

One of very few memorials on public trails in Hawaii. My dad's bench being installed by Mike Garcia. Endless aloha towards the entire HURT crew and my wife, Katie, for making this a reality.
Its funny how normally we use 5 year blocks to keep track of important dates and events. For some reason, this year I feel a heavy weight of the events that took place on April 29th 8 years ago.
It was at that time, at the age of 30, that I opened the outdoor store "Pandora's Backpack" which is now called Patagonia@Bend. I'm very proud of the fact that I have been able to develop a successful retail store from scratch and that it is now a fixture in downtown Bend. I think a lot of folks think of retail stores as "easy" or "lucky". Unfortunately, that is not the case. It (for me) took years of hard work before I ever even pulled a cent out of the business. Yep, years of hard work, having great people involved with the shop, and lots of long, long hours. A lot more work than simply opening the doors each day. I am now lucky enough that I don't have to be there full time anymore but am reminded of the hard work as my second business, Fleet Feet, just turned three years old and I am still putting my heart and soul into it everyday.
However, thirty six hours before we opened Pandora's Backpack 8 years ago, the most traumatic event in my life happened. My dad, the Navy SEAL, the ultramarathon runner, who predicted he would live to be 113 years old, died of a heart attack at 59 years old while out on a training run by himself. It was, is, and will continue to be something that I struggle with on a reasonably regular basis. I had a complex relationship with my dad. Intense in many ways. My dad and I had major struggles in my late teens and early to mid twenties as he more or less left my mom and our family basically to run. Therein, running in itself will always be a complex love of mine as it has given and taken a reasonable amount away from me. However, in the end, my dad and I grew very close in the last 6 years of my life. He paced me to my first finish at Western States and I was in awe of his accomplishments of running the entire Appalachian trail and for him to be the first to run the entire California Costal trail. He did both completely self sufficiently and in one push in his late 50's.

The only time my dad got to meet a grandchild. Fisher, as a baby.
I'm truly sad that he did not really get to know his grandchildren, to see the success of the stores, or selfishly, see me go from a sub-mid pack runner to a contender in ultramarathons.
Anyway, I apologize if this is a bit heavy for the general public but being a pretty private guy, sometimes it feels good to get some stuff off the chest and made public.
In the end, a lot of people run for different reasons. There is no question that I still run to try and impress my dad. 8 years and man, how I miss him.
I'm off to run Capitol Peak 50 Miler this weekend and I'll run a little extra hard for him.
Lastly, I thought I would share my dad's favorite poem. It is a well known one but I had not heard it until he read it to Katie and myself at our Rehearsal Dinner the night before our wedding. I still read it regularly and always before a big event in my life.

The Invitation
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your
fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."

It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after a night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer