Angry Rant about sports, expectations, and my dad. Focus RS for your time.
I was having dinner with my dad, with my dad discussing my grades and what to expect in college (where you control your destiny). He also mentioned that I should get out and exercise. He suggested running.
I have flat feet, and it’s immensely painful to run with flat feet. Even with Superfeet shoe liners, it’s still really uncomfortable. It’s really ironic, as my dad has always had a thing with me doing sports. When I was younger, I swam 1-2 hours (2 by the end of the 4th year) each day for 5 days a week. It was enjoyable for the most time, until I was completely burned out and I felt more and more disconnected with everyone else. Why? Kinda because I was forced into a higher level which was light speeds faster that really fucked me over. I made none of the intervals. I even went to the lengths of high school swim team (which I was mildly successful, especially with a Varsity title in freshman year). I then discovered cycling and decided to joining a friend in training for a triathlon. I somehow managed two sports at once.
After the triathlon, I felt cycling was my calling. I told my parents. My dad disliked it. I never got a reason out of it, but he never took it as seriously as swimming. He just shat on it every night at dinner and asked that I go back to swimming. I said no. By that time I had already attained a semi-jalopy used CL road bike and started training on it. It was enjoyable. He complained all the time. Whenever I went to a cycling race, he complained on how early he had to get up and how much time it consumed me. It made no sense as often swim meets meet up at absurdly early times and last for just as long, and often even longer. Again, fucking annoying.
I end up semi-ish racing for 2 seasons but still full time train an hour a day. Somewhat an hour a day he takes high offense upon when he doesn’t give two shits if I’m doing laps for 2 hours in a pool. I end up quitting as I couldn’t afford to get a new bike or to bring it to race spec. My frame flexed like no other. I was riding on SPD pedals that were worn beyond belief paired with worn Giro mtb shoes. I ended up replacing them with mtb Crankbrothers pedals I got for free at the shop I worked at. My bottom bracket lasted less than one season (stupid ISIS bottom bracket). I could only solve that problem with changing the whole bottom bracket and crankset all together. My derailleurs were worn and badly needed replacement. I also quit because it’s awkward as hell when you’re really antisocial, surrounded by kids who have been bankrolled with 4000$+ bikes, your bike is visibly breaking down, and coaches who didn’t want you there. I also did it to shut my dad up. It did. He couldn’t make that excuse and harass me for wasting time with sports. I now do a weights class. He can’t squabble about something I’m taking to fulfill a Physical Education credit.
Back to the original event, I then went off on him detailing how he didn’t give two shits about me swimming, how he took offense to every time I biked, and how he wanted me to do sports again. It displayed his ironies. He shut up and went on a silent strike. What does he want me to do? I wanted to live to his standards. I took sacrifices in order to fulfill those standards. He now is backtracking? Consistency much? Ugh. Sorry Oppo you had to read this...I just really needed to vent.