But then my Dad is not normal. He could be out gardening. He could be out running. He could be up a ladder pruning back the overhang from his neighbour's tree so it doesn't fall on his own little apple tree - on which he has an amazing number of apple varieties grafted. (His own little joke for the next owners of the property, they will be confused for months, trying to decide what kind of apple tree it is, he chuckles!)
I don't know how many times I have tried to catch him in the last two weeks. You see, I was wanting to say "Good luck" to him as he headed off to Porritt Stadium in search of new running records. I wasn't sure which weekend the event was, thought it was last weekend or this weekend. ( I know, I should just google).
The last time I spoke with him he was frustrated at how slowly he was running, but happy that he was increasing the distances again, back up to about 14 kms of mostly running - after a calf muscle injury - just a little bit of walking in between.
Now I see, via a comment on FB, that yes, he was competing this weekend, happy and cheerful. I miss being there, being his support crew.
I know he will be well supported by his team mates, but that's not the same. Who will be there on the sideline, heart in her mouth, waiting for that sprint at the end, yelling
"Go, Dad, Go!!!!!!!!"?
Today I am grateful for inspirational athletes.