Like Father Like Daughter

There was a time once, when my mom first took me to swim lessons, that I absolutely WOULD NOT put my face in the water. There was a time when I refused to ride my baby four wheeler my dad got me around my grandparent’s lawn.  Looking back, I can’t believe I was ever like. This past summer my dad reminded me of my once deathly fear of doing anything even remotely dangerous or daredevily after watching me cruise along the wake of a boat on a wakeboard.  Me. The girl afraid of getting her face wet. Riding a wakeboard.  Man, oh man, have times changed. 

Any hopes my mother ever had of me being a girly girl were dashed early on by my father. There’s a video buried somewhere in a box of my dad pushing me around the yard on a miniature dirt bike. That was the beginning of my development into a girl after my dad’s own heart. 

I spent my summers growing up riding fourwheelers….gradually moving up from riding the tiniest size the industry makes to a full size one. Never too early to start riding! In the winter when my dad would go out snowmobiling, I’d be right there too clinging to his back like a baby koala.  When I hit high school, I finally rode my very own snowmobile! That day might have ended with my best friend Jamie and I hitting a tree stump and being hurtled into the air, but I just remember it as a day where I got my first real taste for speed and adrenaline. 

In the summers growing up, one of my favorite things to do was go out to the motocross track and watch my dad fly over jumps and tear around corners kicking up dust behind him. I loved it! So for years, I bugged my dad about teaching me how to ride a dirt bike, but he was always hesitant to let me try. Finally, two years ago my dad gave in and taught me how to ride. I think he was shocked at how fast I picked it up. From the moment I first straddled that bike, I had a feeling I was going to love it. But it wasn’t until a year ago, when I purchased my own dirt bike, a KLX 140, that I discovered why I’d wanted to ride for so many years. My dad went right out and decked me out with a full set of riding gear and I spent last summer and fall riding around the mountains of Clancy….slowly learning to shift better and daring to take corners a little faster each time I came around them. The best day though, was the very first time I went out and rode with my dad….just him and me. My dad grew up riding bikes and spent years racing motocross, but this past summer was the first time he went for a ride with his daughter. I felt so proud that day, and I think he was too. We laughed at the end of that day too after passing some people playing folf. I told my dad that that sport was just way too slow moving and boring for me. He laughed and said “Well, you always were more of a motorhead.” 

While my dad does love his motorsports, one of his other passions is hockey. The man simply can’t watch or play enough of it during the wintertime. I had a brief interest in hockey early on when I saw one of the Mighty Ducks movies the first time my parents took me to the Edmonton Mall in Canada. But like many childhood fetishes, it passed away without getting off the ground. Then one night last winter, after watching me skate on an outdoor rink, my dad told me I needed to get hockey skates. I could see that gleam in his eye that let me know an idea was brewing. 

As soon as they started flooding the outdoor rinks in town this year, my dad took me down to Big Sky Cyclery and sized me up for some hockey skates. After watching me skate on those for one night at the indoor rink, he told me about a beginner’s hockey league that was going to be starting soon. He told me I should join it. Me actually play hockey? All I thought was, “bring it on!” So earlier this week, after suiting me up with a helmet and some gloves, my dad took me down to Memorial Park to do a training session. I thought we were just going to shoot the puck around, but he had me skating lines till I couldn’t breathe and shooting lines of pucks at the net like I was training for the Olympics. I was exhausted by the time we were done, but I really felt like I might have a shot at trying to play. 

Driving home that night, I couldn’t help smiling in thinking about how in 26 years I had somehow managed to delve into all of the same activities as my dad. And all of these activities, might I add, are not the typical things you would expect to see a girl doing. That thought made me smile even bigger. I’m proud to be a woman, but even prouder to be one who isn’t afraid to try the same extreme sports my dad and all the guys I know do. And the best part is that I’m still usually able to keep up with all of them at any of those sports.

I know my mom watches me ride and sees pictures of me doing all my daredevil activities sometimes and just shakes her head. But I remind her that I still did 13 years of ballet…..and that’s pretty much as girly as it gets. I’m grateful for all my years of dancing too because that way when I come tearing over a hill on my dirt bike or am side hilling on my sled,  I know that I’m always doing it with a little bit of grace and a little bit of grit.