Burke County Tribune

SPARTAN RACE
BY TERESA ROERING

Goldade started with the “Elite” group which is the first off the line at the very beginning of the race (this group is for those who are true competitors and can brave the stampede off the starting line).

Every fifteen minutes after the race starts an additional 250 people are “started,” this adds chaos of those trying to catch up, and makes the track easier for the later competitors as it’s already been trampled down by the elite group.

Out of approximately 2000 competitors, Goldade overcame mud, water, fire, and many other obstacles to place fourth overall in the Elite group of competitors clocking in at 59 minutes and 51 seconds.

When asked how it felt to place so high among so many competitors, Goldade responded, “Surprising, it felt really good. I’m 32 years old and I used to run cross country in high school and college and my last race was in college.”
After five to six weeks of training for the event, Goldade’s hard work and dedication paid off.

STANDARD ISSUE

Generally the way it works amongst us humans is that a mother and a father are standard issue to kick start our existence in this world. As for other worlds, I cannot say, because other than Saskatchewan I have not visited any other planets. If I do and if I find anything of interest, I will promptly report my finding back to you. Until then, carry on.

These “standard issue” mothers and fathers come in very unstandardized shapes, personalities, and shoe sizes. Father’s Day is a day set aside for us to shower our father with gifts, praise, and a fresh jug of cologne. It takes more than a standard issue man to be a father, to be a dad.

It takes someone special. Someone like my dad.
I’ve always known my dad was a good dad but now that I’m older I realize that he’s more than that, he’s a good man as well. A trustworthy, honest man, with a great big heart that works hard and can be counted on to do what’s right.

My dad was only 20 years old when I was born and he was who I wanted to be. Watching him play softball when I was kid was something I enjoyed and remember even now. I wanted to run, throw, and hit like him. Actually, I wanted to run, throw, and hit for him and, being a good dad, he let me do just that.

Football, track, baseball…I could hear his voice above any crowd and it always made me want to do my very best. Not because he’d make me shovel coal until my hands bled if I played poorly but because I simply wanted to make him proud. Proud to be my dad because I was proud to be his son. Still am and always will be I imagine.

A father-son relationship is such that words and feelings are often times replaced or expressed through activities or actions. No need for Hallmark when we have sports, lawn care, and varmint control as a means of which to say, “Dad, you’re the best and I love you.”

Words are just so...I don’t know...direct, mushy, and uncomfortable for all involved. A couple beers while discussing dandelion eradication and proper tire inflation is productive, useful, and caring.

As I advance in age I’ve noticed the dad I grew up with possesses my vocal cords from time to time. Without warning I open my mouth and my dad’s voice comes out.

This vocal cord possession oddly enough seems to occur most often when I’m “reasoning” with my 13-year-old son.
I used to find it concerning but now I find comfort in knowing that when I’m at my wits end my dad will always find a way to come through.

Happy Father’s Day to all you dads out there bustin’ your hump so Junior can have basketball shoes that cost more than your first car.

Mine was a 1970 Pontiac Bonneville that came out on the losing end of an altercation with a snow blower…but that’s another story, isn’t it Dad.