Happy Father's Day

Today is the first Father's Day without my dad. It's been a tough day for me, as I know that it's a day that we would have certainly spent together. I just miss him. Even though we couldn't talk in the end...I miss his thumbs up, I miss his smile, and I miss his hugs that took so much effort. In honor of him, I thought I would post the words from my talk that I gave at his life celebration:  

 

As I was preparing for my talk today, I realized that many of you here may not have ever known my dad, or maybe only met him in the recent years, where he really couldn’t communicate well.  That being said, I’d like to share with all of you a little bit about who he was, as well as some of my favorite memories.

I first met Jon Oliver Bolstad back in June of 1975. We got off to a little bit of a rough start, because I showed up a month earlier than was planned, which resulted in a lot of concern and worry on his part. That wouldn’t be the last time that “one of his favorite daughters” as he used to say, would cause him worry, but we went on to have what was MOSTLY a great relationship. You know, other than in those teenage years where he was trying to ruin my life.   

There is so much of my dad in me and so much that I think of each and every day that he gave to me. There are of course, the physical traits (my legs and feet are ALL him and I’m super smart like he was), there are the personality traits (Thankfully I’m not as stubborn as he was. I’m not. No really, I’m not.), but also some valuable skills.  He taught me how to trim branches on a tree, pack a car for a road trip with extreme efficiency, to love and appreciate the outdoors and how to be a MASTER at the art of procrastination. I remember him staying up all night writing proposals the day before they were due. Guess when I wrote my talk?

In addition to these things, my dad also taught me some valuable life lessons.

Life Lesson #1: To be wise with money. Now while we were growing up, this was SUPER annoying. We drove around town to find the best deals, we shopped at thrift stores…for clothes….in Jr High and High School, we clipped coupons and it was all because he didn’t want to spend a penny more than was necessary. Now…do I think that maybe, just maybe, I deserved more than ONE Esprit sweatshirt in 7^th grade? Yes. But…we lived a very simple life, although we didn’t have to. And, being smart with money has been ENGRAINED in my mind and I will be forever grateful that he taught me to live a simple life. Not to go without, but to be conscious of the money that I spend and appreciate the things that I have.

Life Lesson #2: Nothing comes easy in life…you have to work for it. My dad was a hard worker and he had high expectations for us. But those expectations helped me to always strive to do my best. I am SO grateful that he paid for my college tuition, but it was a scholarship program….not a gift. There were many lessons that he made me learn the hard way, but what an example he was of how hard work and determination pay off.

Life Lesson #3: Love isn’t only shown in the words you say, but in the things you do.  Not until within the last year did I hear my dad speak the words “I love you.” That’s probably pretty shocking to most of you, considering it’s pretty obvious how much I love my dad. The thing is, I never doubted whether or not he did because he showed it in so many other ways. He was big on hugs…. His parents never hugged him as a child and I think he gave us all of the hugs that he never got. Just like him, I think I say “I love you” to Hailee enough to make up for the ones I didn’t hear.    

Life Lesson #4:  If you’re unhappy with your current situation, then do something about it. He left a good paying job to start his own company. He didn’t pay himself for over a year (see Life Lesson #1), but he knew that nothing was going to change unless he changed the situation. In an article that was written about him in the Post Register, when asked why he started the company, he said “I was tired of working for other people. And I want to do something that I would be proud of when I’m 81.” It breaks my heart that he didn’t make it to 81, but I know that he lived a life that he can be proud of and I certainly know that I’m proud of the legacy that he has left behind.

Thank you, Daddy, for the lessons that you taught me and for being such a fighter. Thank you for taking Heidi and I camping, just the three of us and creating my favorite childhood memory. I will never forget when you dropped that hamburger on the floor of the VW camper, brushed it off and threw it back in the pan.  Thank you for letting me take typing class in High School, even though you thought it was a waste of time. It’s certainly served me well and I have to admit I’m happy that I don’t have to hunt and peck like you did.  Thank you for the phone conversations that got me through some really hard times. Thank you for not killing me like I thought you would when I totaled Grandma’s pickup. Thank you for all of the advice on the thousands of decisions I came to you with. I think I’ve finally learned how to make the some simple ones on my own, but will continue to look to you for guidance. Thank you for noticing that I did, in fact, pick at my chicken pock and tell you that I didn’t. Had it not been for that, I would have never heard you say “You’ll go to jail for lying some day.”

And thank you for trying your hardest to stick around until Robie Race Day and for the bond that we shared at the very end because of it. I missed you like crazy that day, but also found peace in knowing that you had the best view possible and that you most definitely said “Good Kari” at the end, as you always did when I’d made you proud. I love you, Daddy. 

Happy Father's Day, Daddy. I know you had a good day...

My journey to Robie....

I'm a procrastinator. We know this. But man, I have been putting off writing this post for what seems like forever! I started it several times, thought about it hundreds of times, but have never been able to complete it.  But, I also want to write it while everything is still fresh in my mind and while the emotion of it is still raw, so here it goes...

At the turn of the new year, I decided that 2012 was going to be the year where I did something "that matters." And on February 2nd, I declared to my family and friends that I was going to run the Race to Robie Creek for the first time in honor of my dad and to raise money to help find a cure for PSP. At the time, I had absolutely no idea how big it would be, but I can tell you that over the last three months that my life has been enriched beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I've heard over and over again from many people that often when you set out to do something for others, that the personal reward is always far more than expected. Now I get it.  

The outpouring of support was, and has been, truly and absolutely amazing. My original goal was to raise $5000 and I picked that amount because I honestly wasn't sure that I could raise that much! After two days, I was blown away that $800 had already been donated. And in just over one month, my original goal had been met. One month! As of today, over $9000 has been donated and I can't even begin to explain what that means to me, to my family and what it meant to my dad.

The journey to Robie was just that...a journey. Just like any journey, there were some really fantastic moments, there were some really difficult moments. There were obstacles and there were rewards. I met new friends along the way and persevered forward even when I wanted to stop.

Robie registration day was crazy.  It's not a lottery and they cap it at 2100 entries, so at noon on President's Day it's all about who has the fastest internet connection and the most computers!  They sold out in NINE minutes. Nine! When I didn't get a spot, I had a moment of devastation and self-pity, but thanks to a bunch of great peeps who offered their entries and assured me that I'd get a number, I built a bridge and got over it. In the end, I got a number from Shu's Running Company...and they got their logo on our shirts.

Training began right away, which was a whole new concept for me. I've never REALLY trained for a race before. I ran a 1/2 marathon a couple of years ago, but signed up the day before the race because all of my friends were doing it. Turns out that my knees weren't real impressed about running for 13 miles when the most they had logged in a given day was MAYBE five. Truthfully, had it not been for my amazing trainer/boyfriend, I probably (most definitely) wouldn't have trained as much as I did. During the week, we would typically run separately, but the long weekend UPHILL runs we did together. Well..we started them together. They usually involved a lot of bitching, moaning, wheezing, walking and crying on my part, ending up with me telling him to "Just go ahead without me!" even though I was the only frustrated one. He did a good job of making it seem like he wanted to stay with me, but on the inside I'm sure he was thinking "You don't have to twist my arm....later!"  The fact that our relationship made it through this journey is pretty amazing in itself, but he was so great and so patient with me. Just before our first trek up the summit, I joked about it potentially being the final hour of our relationship. You know, since he MADE me sign up....
 
Those of you who are runners will agree that running uphill is a whole other ball of wax! Prior to February, I avoided hills at all costs. All costs. And...if I happened to come across a hill, I usually stopped and walked it just because I knew it would be hard. So...training on hills was definitely a challenge, not just for my legs, but for my mind...and my lungs.  I found out last year that I have asthma, which finally explained why I have always wheezed so much when I run! My inhaler has helped, but when I start climbing those higher elevations I can definitely feel it. Good idea to pick a race that increases by 2000ft in 8.5 miles, huh?

I do feel good about my training and how hard I worked. But, I had such a good example to follow. My dad fought SO HARD for the last nine years...harder than most probably would...definitely harder than I would in his shoes. For years he researched online to try and figure out what was wrong with him. Later, even though it required a lot of effort to even get on it, he'd ride his exercise bike to keep his muscles strong. And even though he had very little quality of life left, he still got out of bed every single day to sit in his wheelchair or recliner and be a spectator of his own life. Every time that I wanted to skip my run, or quit, I thought of my dad and his amazing strength and usually, not always, was able to push through.  

Leading up to race day, my focus was definitely on getting up and over that 8+ mile climb. But in reality, this was so much more than a race for me. In fact, being able to say that I've "done Robie" doesn't really mean as much to me as I thought it would. What does mean the world to me is that through that race, I formed a bond with my dad that I will never, ever forget. A bond that would not have been made had I not set out on this journey. After I kicked things off in February, when I would see my dad I loved that I had a something to talk to him about. Something exciting and positive that I could share with him and that was "our thing." A few times I kept him company while my mom went to play Bunko and I would go down the list of people who had donated, told him who each person was, how much they donated and read him the comments if there were any. He didn't know a large majority of those who gave and there were several times where he got very emotional and even teared up. He wasn't able to talk, but did type on his iPad "That's great." I read to him the course description and comments on the Robie website, I talked to him about my training runs and about those who were running on my team in his honor. I knew that due to the terrain we wouldn't be able to get him to the finish line, but when I asked if he wanted to be at the start, I got a definite "thumbs up," which became the only way he could communicate towards the end. As his health started to dwindle, I would continue to ask if he still wanted to be there and his answer never changed. Even on Easter Sunday, less than a week before he died, I was so happy when he gave me the thumbs up, yet again.

Unfortunately he didn't quite make it to race day. I have to wonder now if he was trying his hardest to hold out for that day...to be there for me like he always had been. His hospice nurse shared with me that in the 11 months that she cared for him, that she saw two major changes in that time. One was in November and was a definite decline. The second was in February, when she saw him "perk up" after I told him what I was doing. I will be forever grateful that she told me that. Just knowing that I was able to do something for him, after all that he did for me, has helped me so much in the last weeks.

As much as I wanted him there, I also didn't want him to continue suffering. He was so weak and struggling so badly, that about two weeks prior to the race I told him that if he was ready to go, that he didn't need to anymore. It was one of the hardest things I've ever said, but I needed him to know that I could, and would, still run that race for him.

I still cannot even believe how many people followed, supported, donated, prayed, cheered for, ran for and were there for me all along this journey. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! Seventy-five people liked or commented on my Facebook post that day. Seriously? I was honestly shocked that so many people cared about little ol' me, when I was ONE of 2400 people that ran! I will tell you what...that Friday night before the race, I felt like a movie star just before the Oscars! My fan club was ON FIRE and I felt like I was going to rock that hill and that it was going to be a truly amazing day.

I think that I will have to wait for another day to write about the actual race. I know many of you would like to hear more about it, so I will do my best to write that post soon. I'm dragging my heels a bit and I think I've figured out why. I don't want the story to be over. This whole journey was my tie with my Daddy...and it's hard to close it out. For some reason, writing out the story feels like a conclusion....like the end. I know that it doesn't have to be and that it's really just a new chapter. But I miss him. I really do. I also haven't closed out the fundraising link or sent in the money yet for the same reason. Don't worry...your money will make it to CurePSP. I just need a little more time...