My Daddy – Colleen Fossett

//My Daddy – Colleen Fossett

My Daddy – Colleen Fossett

My Daddy- Colleen Fossett

Summer 2003
“Hey, Dad, do you want to go watch the Philadelphia Distance Run with me?”   Minutes later  we are in the car driving down the Black Horse Pike towards Philadelphia.  He has a lemon Tastykake pie in his left hand and he is frantically pointing to the sign for the Ben Franklin Bridge with his right finger. I roll my eyes and let out a sarcastic sigh. “Dad, I am thirty-two. I know where the Ben Franklin Bridge is.” He smirks, I laugh because I know what is coming next.

“Col, did you know I lived here as a kid ?” He asks as we walk towards the Art Museum.  “When I was about seven, we would jump in these fountains and throw balls over the prison walls.  See that alley, we would place dice there all day.” I expect these stories like clockwork. I have heard them a million times. Impatiently, I listen.

The fact that there are thousands of people in the city does slow down our mission.   We need to find one person in the sea of runners. No cell phones, no maps, no meeting spots. It is the first time we have been to a race of this size and are both overwhelmed by the athletic spirit in the air. The excitement of it rushes through our veins. Then, out of nowhere, I see her.

“Amy!” I scream. You did it, you did it!” I say, embracing her. My dad is totally caught up in the craziness of the finish line. He gives her a high-five and a huge hug, even though he has never seen her before in his life. He then starts what we affectionately called his ” Charlie Stat” interrogation, how far, how fast, did you PR, where was the start?  He was hooked and for me the next 15 seconds were life changing. As I remember it, my dad pulls me close to him and looks me right in the eyes. “Can you do this Colleen? Can you run this far… Can you  run 13.1 miles?”

I hesitate, being quite uncertain, but with nervous laughter and a convincing voice, I say, “Sure, Dad, I will run this next year.” My moment of excitement quickly fades as I think, I only hope you are standing here to cheer me on.

Summer 2004  
No more excuses! I have had my babies, I moved into a new house, I started a new job, and with my father’s encouragement, I signed up for the Philadelphia Distance Run. A half marathon… crap!   I was a runner in high school, the concept of running was not foreign, but two babies later  I couldn’t  even run 2 miles.  Determined to cross the finish line, I made a 12 week schedule and stuck to in religiously. My runs were marked on my calendar as if they were a dentist appointment four times per week. June, July, August. A bold “X” would mark off every day completed, inching closer and closer to September 19th. My training started tapering. This was going to happen!  As it turned out, I enjoyed training. I looked forward to my long runs which allowed me to think about everything.  My mind often drifted to the sobering fact that as I was getting stronger and faster, my father was getting thinner and weaker. The air that he so loved to breathe was slowly being taken from him.

Soon it was early September, and the race was only couple of weeks away. My father was so excited, he would time me on his timex and play music as I crossed the finish line, which was his painting van.  “Col, you ready for the race?”  “ Dad, I am actually up to 12 miles Dad. I am going to do it.”

A light danced in his eyes, “Of course you can, Colleen. You can do anything, you know that. Anything.” As he says the second “anything,” he is staring at me with such intensity I feel like my heart is going to burst and my brain is going to melt, because I can’t make sense of that particular look.  A look I have never seen from his beautiful blue eyes. . He looks at me like he is never going to see me again, as if he is really concentrating and trying to remember what I look like. With that one look and that one word, I knew our conversations were now going to be limited. That soon the morphine would  comfort his body and soothe his  mind.

September 19, 2004   I know exactly why I did it, but I am just not sure how I did it. Not exactly sure how  I got up the morning of September 19th, tied my sneakers, and drove myself to Philadelphia. I stood on the starting line with thousands of strangers, ready to do the longest race of my life. I did not know a soul. I did not have a cheering section. I  ran 13.1 miles in just over two hours. My breathing controlled, my pace even, but crying the entire time. Crying my eyes out for  two hours from start to finish. Sweat from my forehead mixed with stinging tears from eyes.

I showed up at the funeral home only a few hours later, hair pulled back, wearing the black dress that I purchased three years ago when my father was initially diagnosed with lung cancer. Lung cancer in a man who didn’t smoke and went to they gym every day. I  had the people I love most in the world standing to my left and to my right.  I greeted, smiled, hugged and thanked everyone who knew my father. Very few people knew that I had run my first half marathon that morning. Most would not have understood…although I know with great certainty, one person would have.

Thank you, Daddy. I carry your  your love of life and passion for sport with me everyday.  I only wish you could see how it all turned out.


By | 2016-05-03T02:02:37+00:00 August 15th, 2012|Triathlon|15 Comments

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  1. Carol DeAngelo August 15, 2012 at 11:08 pm

    This was beautiful…what you did and have done is beautiful…I know he’s running, biking and swimming, right along with you…
    Love you!

  2. Brenda Caltabiano August 15, 2012 at 11:22 pm

    How touching, what a tribute! Sounds like your father was a very caring, loving guy. How it all turned out?!?! My, how proud he must be of ALL your accomplishments. More important then that are ALL the women that you have inspired to step out of their comfort zone and the positive role model you are for each and everyone of us in the club. I know there are nights where you would just like to ride or run but you are always making sure everyone is taken care of, so unselfish!! You should be proud for all that you give to everyone, wheather it is a funny story, an inspirational “you can do it”, I appeciated them all. I can not say “thank you” enough for everything you have done for me! I thought after college my competitive days were over. This club has allowed me to “go above and beyond” what I thought was possible. All the women are SO supportive and encouraging. We all share a special bond and we all have a story. I enjoy talking to everyone whether it is at the pool, the lake, after our Rode’s ride, or at a race. I am looking forward to many more years, reaching many more goals and more important making some great memories with some pretty special women! I think your Dad is looking down on you saying “everything turned out just fine”.

  3. Stephra Del Monte August 15, 2012 at 11:29 pm

    Wow. Very powerful memoir. It takes a lot of courage to put so many personal feelings out there for public view. Thank you for placing things in perspective and reminding all of us to enjoy the NOW.

  4. lori wells August 15, 2012 at 11:45 pm

    Wow..I am speechless and teary. Thank you for sharing your personal story. I thank your Dad for inspiring you and in turn you inspiring so many others. You have breathed new life into me and so many others.

  5. Kathy Pietras August 16, 2012 at 12:47 am


    I never knew your first marathon was the same day. You are so strong!!

    I met your Dad a few times and he was such a likeable guy.

    You got one part wrong in your story. He can see how everything turned out. He’s with you everyday helping you to stay strong and be the person you are. He’s one proud Daddy.

  6. Jennifer Wolfinger August 16, 2012 at 5:41 am

    Wow, Colleen. As if I didn’t already know, you truly are an inspiration

  7. christy August 16, 2012 at 7:06 am

    Oh my goodness Colleen. This was so powerful. Your dad was so incredible – as you are now. I am sure he is so incredibly proud of not only what you’ve accomplished (NYC marathon!!) but how you’ve helped so many other women accomplish their goals (this club!). Thank you for sharing such a tender, loving memory with us. Sending your dad a high five to heaven right now! xo

  8. bobbie mach August 16, 2012 at 8:03 am

    Wow Colleen…this was very moving and a GREAT reminder of the bigger picture of life. We all have our stories and reasons of why started doing all this crazy endurance stuff. Hearing your story should remind us to go back and get in touch with the initial reason why we all started running/biking/swimming so we don’t lose sight of where were, where we’ve been , where we’re going and the AMAZING people who have supported us along the way! Thank you for sharing such an intimate story wiht us all!

  9. Kathy Kehnast August 16, 2012 at 9:57 am

    Col, this is wonderful. I am sitting at my kitchen table with tears running down my face, my dad’s anniversary was just the other day.

    Your dad is watching and cheering you on and telling everyone “that’s my daughter, she is changing people’s lives!!” and my dad is right there seeing how you changed mine….:)

  10. Margie Skelly August 16, 2012 at 10:53 am

    That was wonderful,you are so lucky to have such fond memories and so sad he didn’t have more time.Remember though he is with you every minute of every day.

  11. Katie DiDio August 16, 2012 at 12:17 pm

    Wow! Thank you for sharing your beautiful story…

  12. betty garrity August 17, 2012 at 12:13 am

    So beautiful and so true. Daddy was a vibrant spirit who loved us, his family more than anything in the world. Sports came in a very close second. I know he is so proud of you and Chuck not only because of the wonderful athletes that you are, but also the way you conduct your lives, and in doing so touch the lives of so many others.
    Love you, Mom

  13. erika August 17, 2012 at 3:15 pm

    One of the most inspiring stories. . . .wow! You truly are an amazing person!!!

  14. Dawn Ware August 19, 2012 at 2:03 pm

    YOur stories never stop amazing me, and inspiringme. Thankyou- snif snifsnif

  15. Jennifer MacHenry August 30, 2012 at 12:46 am

    Wow Col! I never knew this. You continue to amaze me, what inner strength you had that day and continue to have I’m sure because of your dad! I know the memory of my mom is what gives me that inner strength to never give up. Thank you for sharing, I finally had time to catch up on some reading and this was on the top of my list! Tears and smiles my friend!

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