My dad drives me crazy. Not in an endearing, “Oh, Daaaad” TV-sitcom kind of way. More like a he-makes-me-want-to-punch-a-hole-in-a-wall feeling.
Every year, I dread Father’s Day. Friends post sweet photos and memories on Facebook of their fathers. They talk about the lessons their dads have taught them, how their dads inspire them, and how their dads are their best friends.
I have nothing like that to share. And it hurts.
It’s 5:30 in the morning. I’m in my basement staring bleary-eyed at my laptop, and I’m sweating—a lot—as I do my best to follow an online workout video.
After completing a particularly grueling set of exercises, the instructor takes a quick break on her mat. She catches her breath and says, “I don’t enjoy that. Not at all.”
The moment makes me laugh because it is exactly what I was thinking. It also inspires me because right after the instructor says this, she launches into another set of challenging moves.
This is Jenn Jordan and For the Glow.