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It’s 4:30am, the sound of my alarm drags me out of what felt like a 5-minute nap, meaning time to punch down a coffee, lace up my shoes and drive to the nearest mountain for my Sunday long run.
Life looks very different now that my wife Lara and I have brought our baby boy into the world. Sleeping through the night and spending all morning on the trails just isn’t an option now.
In their place, instead, we have blocks of sleep interrupted by a hungry baby and half the run completed before the sun has even risen in hopes of making it back for a family breakfast.
For a bit of context, I’m a guy who’s always felt most at home outdoors, whether that’s running long trails, hiking in the bush, or lifting something heavy in the gym. These days, I’m still chasing that kind of challenge, but I’m also learning how to show up as a good dad and husband at the same time. It’s a new kind of adventure, just with a bit less sleep and a lot more nappies.
Although I hope anyone reading this (mums or dads) can relate and pull something useful from it, I’m really speaking to the dads here. Balancing fatherhood with a love for the outdoors is one thing, but doing it as a mum is a whole different level I’m not qualified to speak on (you’ll have to chat with Lara for that one). Regardless, I hope everyone reading this can draw some inspiration, motivation, or whatever it is they need most in their life right now by the end of it.
Now, where were we…
Right…it’s 4:30am and I’m dragging my half-asleep, slightly broken shell of a body off the couch (my go-to sleeping spot when I’ve got an early start). I grab my gear and head out the door.
The streets are dead quiet. That eerie stillness that only exists when most of the world’s still asleep. Not many people choose to be out at this hour on a Sunday morning.
I’m heading to the closest national park to clock some trail miles. Since becoming a dad, every long run now carries a little weight. A hint of guilt. Spending hours away from my wife and son to be alone in the bush. It can feel selfish, even if Lara’s reminded me time and time again that it’s okay, that I need it. Still, it’s hard to shake the feeling.
Because the key to being a present father and husband is… well… being present.
So I’ve made a few changes. I’ve shifted my long runs to the closest trails instead of driving that extra 30 minutes for better views. I start before anyone’s awake so I can be home for breakfast. And I’ve dropped my weekly volume a little, knowing that what I lose in kilometres I gain in presence at home.
It’s taken a bit of a mindset shift.
In the past, I was always chasing more. More kilometres, more vert, more time on feet. But these days, I’m not just running for me anymore. I’m training for something bigger than race day.
Now, I see my training less as a personal escape and more as a responsibility. Because of how I show up out there on the trails, under pressure, when it’s uncomfortable, that’s the version of me my son will grow up seeing.
A Race for Something Bigger
A few weeks ago, I drove north for a 50km race about three hours from home. Since we only have one car, it was too tricky to bring the family along, so I hired a car, stayed in a cheap hotel Friday night, and raced early Saturday morning.
During the race, every time I felt like slowing down, I pictured our newborn son. Suddenly, I wasn’t running just for myself anymore; I was running for him. That pushed me harder than ever, and I ended up beating my previous 50km best by an hour.
Finishing without my family was emotional; I broke down as I crossed the line. But driving home later that day, walking in the door and seeing their beautiful smiles as I came in made it all immensely worthwhile.
That race reminded me why balancing fatherhood and adventure is worth the hard work. It’s not always easy, but the why makes it all worthwhile.
I want him to see consistency. Grit. A love for movement and a willingness to put in the work.
I want him to know that adventure doesn’t stop when responsibility arises; it just looks a little different.
One day, he’ll be old enough to come along. Maybe at first it’s short walks or slow hikes. Maybe later, something bigger. Being an example to my son is the greatest responsibility I’ve ever had and if my love for the trails sparks something in him, if he wants to chase down miles like his old man, I’ll be ready because I kept showing up.
So when I get up before the sun, or choose the closer trail, or cut a run short to be home in time, it’s not a sacrifice. It’s part of the rhythm of life. And if I can keep that rhythm going, that’s more than enough.
Tips for New Dads Trying to Keep the Fire Alive
1. Keep it close.
Choose trails or training spots near home. Cutting down travel time means more time with your family and less guilt in getting it done.
2. Get it done early.
The earlier you move, the smoother the day goes. Pre-dawn runs or workouts might be rough at first, but they free up the rest of your day for what matters most.
3. Let go of perfection.
You won’t hit every session. You’ll miss sleep. Plans will shift. That’s okay. Show up anyway. Imperfect consistency is better than chasing some ideal and burning out.
At the end of the day, being a present dad and an outdoorsman aren’t in conflict. They just take a bit more intention to juggle. And if we get it right, if we stay patient, stay moving, stay present, we don’t lose the adventure. We pass it on.
