Kona or Bust Week 17: Happy Father's Day

Kona or Bust - Week 17

Happy Father's Day

I find it fitting that I’m writing my latest blog entry in my childhood bedroom like I did so many years ago pumping out homework the night before it was due. The cool thing about this assignment is one that I’ve committed myself to writing about whatever I want as I make my way to the single biggest triathlon on the planet, the Ironman World Championship.

I’ve looked forward to writing this particular blog entry for a few weeks now. I knew that Father’s Day was around the corner and I couldn’t think of a more fitting way to say Happy Father’s day and Thank You to my Dad, John Kelly.

Triathlon is an incredibly selfish sport. Countless hours are spent training, away from family and friends. I’ve tried hard to balance training and life but I’m sure I’ve asked for an event to be rescheduled or arrived late more times than I can count. To be honest, if you’re going to race well, you have to put in the time. Success doesn’t happen overnight. Fortunately, my family has always been very understanding. Especially, my Dad.

From a very young age I was running, shooting, throwing, playing, and competing. When I received my first award for Junior High Basketball my Dad made a point of telling my how proud he was of me, but I’d have to work even harder. Never settle. Always try to be better. And most importantly, remain humble. That conversation has served me well.

With a spot in the Ironman World Championships 4 months away I can’t help but look back on where I started. My first triathlon was an International distance (3/4 mile swim, 24-26 mile bike, 5-6 mile run) at Lake Morey in Fairlee, VT. As with many other times in my athletic life my Dad was there by my side. I can very vividly remember looking out at the water the night prior to the race, watching the swim buoys bob up and down, and admitting to him didn’t think I could do it. My Dad told me I could, that he believed in me and that this was supposed to be fun. He was right. I finished and had a blast.

Twelve years later I look back on all of my major races and my Dad has been there by my side. Whether it was driving me to pre-race meetings, cheering me on while I tore ass through transition, or being one of the first to greet me at the finish line, he was there. The hours are un-godly early and long. The weather ranges from hurricane like rain and cold to miserable-for-all heat and humidity. His presence, despite the constant pacing, allows me to stay calm when all I want to do is vomit from nerves.

So, here’s to …

The guy that taught me how to throw a ball and shoot a free throw. And, the value behind winning and losing.

The guy that let me trace his palm lines in church when I couldn’t sit still, then blare Billy Joel, John Mellencamp, and Jackson Browne with the windows down hand surfing on the way home.

The guy that drove countless miles during my collegiate career to see almost every game and give me a shoulder to cry on when it was all over.

The guy that started this triathlon journey with me, not knowing that it would take both of us to Triathlon's biggest stage.

Happy Father’s Day Dad! I can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done and will continue to do.

Kona awaits!

Love,

Sarah 

PS - Mom, don't worry. I haven't gotten about you! :)