Team Beachbody ¡preestreno!Español Guest

My Dad was a honest and humble man.  Self employed.  A house painter by trade.  A perfectionist, with an eye for detail, who prided himself, on not having to use a drop cloth.  He was efficient with his skills, and he had a great sense of humor.  But what stood out most for me, was the way he dealt with people.   When I was 12 years old, I asked him if he would teach me to paint.  He agreed. That summer when school ended, he took me with him. 

It was exciting to watch him work.   He approached each job methodically, with skill and precision.  First the selection of colors and type of paint, then the measuring and calculating,  the size of the brushes, ladders,  equipment  etc. needed, the estimate of how much time it  would take to prep and  do the job, and finally the  cost.  Everything down to the last detail, proposed and submitted, with that air of confidence,  only a seasoned pro possesses.

Analyzing, planning, and organizing were so important to him, that  sometimes it got in the way of  implementation.  If something went awry or he encountered an uncalculated problem, he would simply back  away and reassess the situation.   Sometimes pondering for days.   As a matter of fact, he spent so much time reassessing, that I remember, on one occasion, he was  fired  on the spot, by an irate homeowner, who grew impatient, waiting for him to  complete the job. 

 Seemingly undaunted by “what just happened”, he would wink at me and say, “that’s unfortunate,” collect whatever personal property that was scattered about, throw everything in the back of the van, bid  the disgruntled "x-client" adios, and head  home, laughing and joking all the way. 

 Once home he would  prepare a feast of  potatoes, with diced scallions, fried to perfection in bacon fat, ( don’t freak out, beachbody hadn’t  been invented yet) and steamy hot black coffee. (I took  mine with crème and sugar). We never talked about it, and he never mentioned it again.  Not even to my Mom.  When she inquired about the days events, he would simply say,  “Well, tomorrow’s another day.” Eternally optimistic.

Every day, we would rise early, and head out prospecting, even if we already had work.   He never surrendered, until  he found another opportunity in need of his skills.  And he always did.   Then the process would start all over.  In those days, many times, a gentlemen’s agreement  was enough to seal the deal and no  written contracts were exchanged.   However on occasion, the client would go back on her word, leaving my father with the short end of the stick.   However he would never argue about, “the unfortunate misunderstanding.”  He would accept the slighted payment,  smile and say thank you, while I fumed in the background.  

 I was young and proud, and sometimes his levity in a situation, was hard to take. It only took a second time, with what I considered a "getting ripped off" situation, that I could no longer contain myself.  Once inside the van, I blurted out in frustration,  “Dad, what the heck ?”  “Son, he replied, Miles Van Der Rowe, the famed architect once  said, “God is in the details”, and if he’s satisfied, then I’m satisfied.” 

 I didn’t know who Miles Van Der Rowe was at the time, and later in college, when I found out, I was surprised that my dad, a self taught man, knew some of the things he did.  But honestly, to this day, I’m still not sure what the hell he was talking about.   But I sure did love those potatoes.

 Ric (coachpaytonfit)

p.s. sometimes in life things don’t make any sense,  but as long as the food tastes good, who cares.

Yesterday, I was at home working, when I heard Bric outside making a fuss.  I went to investigate.   I watched in amazement as Bric climbed the retaining wall.

Just as he was about to scale the 4ft. iron fence that ran across the top, I noticed, standing there among the brush, a coyote.   I pulled Bric down and away from the wall and chased the coyote off.

WOW!, I thought, I have never seen Bric so motivated or determined to get over that wall.  Then I thought to myself... where is my coyote?

Someone's dream for you, cannot be bigger than, the one you dream for yourself.  This is your dream!

There is something magical, no transformational, about a man and his dog.

Everyday that we go out for a walk, at least twice a day, I am transformed into a kid again.   

No matter how many times we take the same old path, or make the same old turns, there's something new, fresh, and exciting.

With clarity and a sense of urgency, Bric leaves no tree unmarked, no bush unsniffed, or patch of grass unexplored. 

I chuckle to myself, as he bounds from corner to corner, ever present, in search of new adventures.

Connected by that  special bond,  I watch, admiringly, at how he doesn't take one single moment for granted. 

And I say to myself, man, if I would just be more like my dog, focused on my goals, determined in my approach, and confronting each day like it was a new first time,  then success would be mine!

And all this time, you  thought I was just going behind him and picking up his poop!

 Ric (coachpaytonfit)

p.s.  I am responsible for all content, typos, text, incorrect grammar usage, etc.   Just pay attention to the message!