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I’m not really sure what the bit of news I am about to share will reveal.  What may be even more revealing is that I am proud of it.  The reality of it all is what makes all dads odd in their own way.  What I demonstrated Saturday is just a little of what makes this dad odd to his wife and children.

Spandex.

I’m a cyclist, so spandex has become a way of life for me.  That happened a long time ago, before the kids came into existence.  My wife has never been a fan, but after the shock of seeing me clad in cycling clothes wore off, the necessary utility of cycling garb influenced her to the point of acceptance.  My children were born into a world that included a bicycle happy dad.  Their acceptance has been more complete but that does not mean it has been easy for them.  My daughter, especially, will be scarred from the times I have picked her up from a school event or went to watch her at a school track meet while clad in my cycling gear.  The latter was a white kit.  Her friends still gag a bit when they see me.  Life can be cruel and my daughter can attest to that fact of life. 

Do not think I look good wearing my cyclist stuff.  I don’t.  I don’t care about it either.  Who am I trying to not impress?

The lawn is my sanctuary.

My lawn looks nice.  I like it that way.  I’m not fanatic but my philosophy is that the state of my lawn says something to my neighbors and friends about me.  If my grass is not maintained on a regular basis, I get a bit annoyed.

Weekends.

Rarely do I not have an idea of what I want to get accomplished on a weekend.  Plans almost always include some kind of Saturday morning exercise, as well as some type of chore (i.e. lawn during the green months of the year).

Combine all of the above.

And you have this past Saturday morning.  I drove to my mountain bike destination at dawn for a few hours of single track riding.  The plan for when I returned from my ride was to relax a little, then get the lawn done early.  That plan looked to be on track until the ugly clouds and lightning appeared on the western horizon as I drove home from my ride.  Uh oh.  I had the choice of skipping the yard work for the day or trying to get the lawn mowed before the storm really hit. 

I chose to try to get the lawn mowed.  The rain began to hit while I pulled in the driveway, so I ran to the shed in my bike clothes, filled the mower with gas, and went right to work.  Who cared if it rained on me while I worked?  I was sweating any way.

The hail hit when I was about two thirds done with the lawn.  I kept going.  Nickel sized hail was not going to deter me from my task.  I finished, soaked to the bone and likely with a few marks on my skin from the hail.

My family had been inside the house, watching me through the sliding glass door as their father maniacally performed his task in spandex.  They were proud.

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