“When can we come to visit you?”

“But we just saw each other”, I replied in frustration and immediately regretted it.

I run a quick calendar check in my head. It’s the beginning of September and my parents had come to visit me in early July.

I love them dearly but I know that too much of our interaction can spark conflict.

Two weeks later, I need some papers and documents for my company taxes. I ask my parents to search for them at their place and surprisingly enough, they find them.

“We’re free this Saturday and we can drive to you to bring the files”.

“But I signed up for a running competition, it’s for charity…”

Then a lightbulb switches on: “Dad, would you like to join me? It’s only 5k and we don’t really need to run, it’s for fun”

He first refuses, then I tell him a little bit more, then he calls me the next day and accepts.

We always have this convincing game every time I offer them something or invite them somewhere.
And it always turns out to be a life-changing experience and they love it and can’t stop talking about it.

Anyway, on the morning of the contest, my mom joins to wait for us at the finish line. My dad is nervous but he doesn’t want to admit it. I can tell because he’s fidgeting, he can’t sit still and he keeps walking around.

There are hundreds of people in the park and we’re all invited to start a warm-up session by a voice on the microphone.

Imagine hundreds of hands going up and down and all these people doing jumping-jacks at the same time. The energy is intoxicating and you instantly move into the zone. My dad did too.

Before the start countdown, I remind him this is not a competition and he doesn’t have to push himself to get hurt or feel discomfort.

But he’s in the zone 🙂 His competitive spirit kicks in and while I search for my phone to take a video, he’s already sprinted away.

We had fun and I realised how much I missed doing an activity with my dad. It reminded me of the moments he used to take me to the local stadium, to run laps.

He nurtured the spirit of sports in me. Maybe because he wanted me to be a boy or maybe because he knew how important it was to keep a healthy body. It’s not even important why.

He’s 67 and we’ve had our differences throughout life. Especially since I shifted gears from following the normal route, with a well paid job, pension and insurance, to being an entrepreneur who struggles to make consistent profit in business.

I know he wants what’s best for me (and so does my mom) and it’s ok that their best and my best are different pictures.

Just for that day, those different pictures didn’t matter anymore. We were just father and daughter running in a charity contest and having fun. It’s a memory I’ll treasure forever. And it made me realise that beyond all our different views, all really I need is to love them.

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This blog post is part of a personal challenge: for six months, I am returning to blogging with weekly posts. My intention is to share not just stories, but also the deeper reasoning behind journaling and storytelling as tools for clarity and growth. Writing in this way is how I hold myself accountable to the same practice I guide others through: making space to process, reflect, and transform on the page.