Sunday, April 29, 2018

The Intentional Donut

For as long as I can remember, I have played outside and gone to church. As a kid, both were routine and safe. Jailbreak and backyard baseball had elements of danger, but my childhood neighborhood was a playful paradise. One hour or so a week was dedicated to Sunday church. Paradise lost for the school boy sportsman. 

Now, as a father, I find myself believing in the power of both - the great outdoors and community faith and fellowship known as church. It was a bit of an adventure getting to this point. Before I was "Dad" - before I was "Husband" -  I myself was a bit lost. After surviving teenage life, I zig-zagged my way into my 20s. Somewhere in the middle, I met a girl and built a career. 

When we packed the Subaru this Saturday, the girl, now "Wife", sat shotgun. Directly behind her was a 3-year-old blonde bomber. Directly behind me was a 1-year-old redheaded rascal. To the Indiana County Donut Dash, we go. 

In the 2017 edition of the 5K race, my oldest daughter and I claimed the fastest stroller trophy. Since our victory, the hardware has stood tall on her dresser. Out to defend our title, we arrived early to size up our competition and eat donuts. She had a glazed sprinkled donut pre-race and a glazed sprinkled donut as I took off strolling. I wait until after the glory to consume the sugary sensation that is the donut. 

This year's Dash was a new circuit, weaving through IUP's campus. After Mile 1, my daughter politely passed me one remaining bite of her donut. She proceeded to pass out a few minutes later. I zoomed around the college town while she caught some Zs. When the finish line was in sight, I made a dramatic surge from pavement to green grass. Darting downhill, I would have to thrust over a curb to get over this final hump. Of course, I could have stopped and smoothly made the transition, but that's no fun. 

So, my daughter awoke to the jolt of an almost airborne stroller and the cheers of the crowd. I could not see my precious daughter's reaction, but I did not sense she was thrilled or terrified. She has always been a stoic stroller athlete. In our peripheral, my wife and youngest daughter screamed and babbled as we crossed the finish line. Back-to-back stroller championships. Time for a donut. 

Later that evening, our foursome went to St. Michael's church. Mass is often more exhausting than stroller running 3.1 miles; it takes twice as long and both girls are in play. To top it off, my wife served as lector, creating confusion and chaos in the brain of my youngest. "Why is Mommy sitting by the throne?" "When will she return?"  "Feed me all the snacks we have." She cannot speak full sentences, but I translate her cute face. We ran out of snacks. I was ready to run 3.1 more miles. 

As a Catholic, I know the order of events of a mass. As a father, I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen in that pew. As a runner, I love running for the known exercise I will get and the unknown amount of energy it will take to finish strong. All 3 are part of my identity - Catholic, father, runner. Saturday was a beautiful fusion of all three. 

I digested Saturday's homily like that trophy donut - quickly and surrounded by noise coming out of my children. The message - be an intentional disciple of Jesus. That message and the noise were striking. Mid-homily, I escaped the pew with my youngest daughter, who was chatterboxing the air. I left my oldest with her grandparents- they were fully capable of surviving without me. I had to get to the stained-glass windows in the back of the church. The colors have an all-too-temporary hallucinogenic effect on her. 

Staring at all those reds, blues, purples, and greens, I appreciated how colorful my life had become - blessed with good health, healthy kids, and a best friend in my wife; exceptional grandparents who dedicate time,energy, and survival skills; a rejuvenated faith fueled by experience - in the church I grew up in, in a fellowship called Cafe Sundays, in a course called Alpha, in watching two girls grow up. It is not always peaceful, but it surely has been positive. 

I'm going to keep following Jesus. I'm going to keep running. I'll keep trying to be the best Dad I can be. Hopefully, my girls will one day understand it is not about mass once a week or trophies on the dresser. It's about doing your best and believing - in yourself, in your community, in your faith. 

A day will come when the blonde bomber won't fit in the stroller anymore. The redheaded rascal will be called up. I'll be grateful for each and every finish line. 

Take care of each other, Johnstown. It's not paradise, but let's make it the best it can be. 








Thursday, April 19, 2018

April: Apocalypse Now

This has been a strange month. The weirdness of this April might just be evolutionary - a father learning how to survive in household upheaval. Here is where we stand and where we fell in April 2018.

Golf is Back.

I secured my first birdie on my 18th hole of this golf season. This is a rare event in my golf game. It very well could be the only time an animal of the sky is linked to my 2018 adventures on the links. The sun shined bright on me as I scooped my birdie ball out of the hole.

Winter is Back.

Less than 48 hours later, it snowed. I scooped the shovel out of the garage. Animals of the sky chirped profanity.

Ocean Dogs are Here.

I had the pleasure of attending Paw Patrol Live at War Memorial Arena. I went by myself. Just kidding, I went with my 3-year-old and my wife. It was a seismic blast of canine fiction. At one point (spoiler alert), super hero dogs were on an oceanic mission surrounded by jellyfish. I found it to be far fetched. Packs of children did not seem to mind the absurdity of the plot. At one point, I glanced at my wife and daughter. They both were crying. Did Paw Patrol bring out such raw emotion?  No, my 3-year-old accidentally headbutted my wife in the cheekbone.

Playoff Hockey is Back.

For Game 1 of the Pittsburgh /Philadelphia playoff matchup, I was in my Pens jersey. I was sitting by a Dad dressed exactly like me. We were in a hockey arena. We were at Paw Patrol Live.


Men swim at the YWCA.

I found myself in a pool of emotion this April. Kiddos' swim lessons commenced. My junior high basketball coach was with his grandson swimming beside me in a ridiculous sea of children. We laughed about this moment in time. The sneakers are retired. The swim trunks carry on.

Ice cream is Always.

My parents took my children to Shaffer's Frosty Freeze opening day. It was approximately 37 degrees at the time of Banana /Chocolate twist. My mom said there was a steady stream of cars. Johnstowners will risk frostbite for Frosty Freeze. Long live Shaffer's.

Dinosaurs are Back.

I attended A Night at the Dinosaur Museum, a workshop presented by the University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown's Education Division and held at the ACRP Center for Achievement in Cambria City. My oldest daughter participated in all the prehistoric pageantry. She made a dino timeline and a fossil. She got to dig up bones. After completing her dig, she used her shovel to toss sand into the air - not a respectful, paleontology move. it was a great event that gave up-and-coming teachers a taste of classroom chaos.

Kids are Kids.

Immediately after the dinosaur workshop was over, the children were free to play. Sweet, young minds instantly became barbaric cave dwellers, roaming, screaming, and terrorizing the communal space. It was the exact opposite of what you want to have happen in the event there is a house fire. If you listened close, you could hear the dinosaurs.

If this is the apocalypse, I'm going to enjoy it. Live and laugh on, Johnstown.






Saturday, April 7, 2018

Rabbit Reflections

The build up and breakdown of Easter 2018 was a basket full of questions. There was calm. There was chaos. Jesus rose. A baby gate fell. As parents, this is what we are pondering.

1. How do you stop the madness?

Our 3-year-old is currently in a sleeping regression partnered with aggression. In bursts of nighttime angst, she has transformed into a Donkey Kong-like creature. In a slumber strike, she rampages through her gate, storming the castle in which we try to find rest. Her 1-year-old sister, a sleeping phenom, refuses to let this noisy lunacy break her dreams. Meanwhile, her parents have tried a range of interventions in search of peace. Snuggling Donkey Kong has been the only successful strategy to date. It is an emotional juggernaut of a snuggle. 

2. What is Mother Nature doing?

Johnstown weather is in a split personality crisis right now. At one point last week, a cyclone of leaves was being swept into the air as snow fell and the sun shined. It was like spring, fall, and winter decided to join forces. Summer was nowhere to be found. Summer is in witness protection. I shoveled snow this morning. I wanted to throw the shovel in the street, but I am not Donkey Kong. I am a father and have to set a good example.


3. Will I be running 40 years from now?

My wife and I participated in the 40th running of the Fool's Run this weekend. This Indiana road race originated in 1979 and is still going strong. I ran the 5K and my wife walked the hilly course. It was a frosty start and a sunny finish. My wife crossed the finish line with a gentleman who ran in the inaugural event. They helped pace each other and she appreciated his stride-by-stride company. I have met a lot of good people in my running life. No matter the cause or location, these local runs are a celebration of community. One day, I hope to be the wise athlete leading young folks down a trail of glory. 

4. Who is going to eat all this candy?

Our family and friends are delusional. The amount of Easter candy in our house is preposterous - a dentist's dread and a parent's nightmare. Trick-or-treaters will be shocked when they get a Reese's Egg from our house. Happy Halloween. 

5. What would I do without this stroller?

I have documented it before and it is worth repeating, our super stroller has revolutionized my exercise circuit. On the Saturday before Easter, I took off running in the Wings of Hope 5K, an event I participate in annually, typically kicking off the racing season. The past two years, I have pushed my oldest, chatty child. She is a peach on wheels each and every time we take off running. Wings of Hope is a local organization that raises money for cancer research and community members fighting the disease. I am blessed with good health and a great side kick. To all those fighting cancer, stay hopeful. I'll keep pushing my daughter in this race until she can't fit in the stroller. Then, it is her sister's turn. Then, I'll sign up for the walk and talk about my days of glory to anyone who will listen. Then, my girls will get college scholarships and I'll live happily ever after. 

6. How do you describe the impact music has?

At Our Mother of Sorrows' Easter Vigil mass, I was Donkey Konged by the singing of a community. When we take our children to church, my wife and I are ping pong parenting. Scripture is read and sippy cups are slung. On Easter Eve, our children stayed at home with my saintly mother. My wife and I got to experience a powerful harmony of hymns. The choir and the people lit up the church with music. If my kids were there, they would have screamed in unending joy and threw sippy cups like grenades. 

It was awesome and inspiring. To everyone who sang on that night, thanks. 

7.  What will tomorrow bring?

With two little girls, two jobs, and two brains, my wife and I are going full speed ahead. The snowstorms, sleepless storms, and sugar storms are all worth it. Faith and humor keep our motors running. 

Sleep well, Johnstown. And if you don't, nap hard tomorrow.