Bury the horse beside the vines

As we roll out of Chamonix, my pouty 3 year-old says he doesn’t want to go home, “Je veux rester ici.” We can’t stay, nor do I want to linger, the wounds still fresh. But, we’ll be back buddy, papa has unfinished business.

When things go south and seem sliding off the map, remember, it can always get worse. This is not the end of the world, I tell myself. You’ll get another shot.

No consolation, but I’m not the only guy going home empty handed. No excuses! You fucked up Ben. I wanted to win, I was greedy, I made mistakes. Cut it out. We only go forward in time. Under your feet life is moving faster than you can imagine.

Looking back to the snows of Mont Blanc, I sought to distract myself from this infernal frustration, I thought of the nice evening we shared with my dad and his wife who had flown from the States to watch the race, how the mood at the restaurant wasn’t spoiled by my shortcoming.

My dad told me he was proud. I replied, Look, there’s nothing to be proud of except that maybe I’m taking this loss like man. I should be bent out of shape, but I’m alright, part of the job is failure. But I think he was saying that he was proud generally, with my family and path. He was working hard to persuade us to visit over the holidays, promising my son presents. A casual hug goodbye.

In the rearview mirror, the mountain stands indomitable. The show has one ending. Later that week I got the call that my dad was dead.

A new void in the world. A new a void in me. The kid doesn’t understand. How could he?

There is no guarantee in this promise of a future. Yet we remain optimistic. Life meandering on these fairly predictable trajectories, then bang. Natural disaster level shit.

Nothing alive is exempt from the certitude of death. But we are shocked when someone dies. My dad was in good spirits and health when he passed from a massive heart attack.

It hurts to imagine all the hypothetical memories we could have created. But we shared plenty. I knew the guy my whole life. He never understood sport, but loved watching me succeed. This gives me a reason to push on, to keep working, set goals and get after them.

These days, out running, I’ve been turning these thoughts on repeat. After a couple hours, it goes quiet. In the mountains, death is everywhere. Plants and animals. The living animated by the dead. We carry them with us and the physical momentum, however slow, is helpful. Thanks for everything dad.