It's just in me

I remember the first time I ran with my dad, though I am not sure how old I was, I am guessing around 10. We had planned in advance to get up early and run down the street as far as we could go. We made it about a quarter of a mile until we both collapsed. I am not sure if we just went out too fast or if we were both that out of shape.
As a high schooler my dad was a great miler. His best performance came at the end of a medley relay, his split 4:28. Yeah fast. He also ran 10 miles in an hour as a high schooler. After high school he went to Purdue where he was on the cross country team. Unfortunately he got mono was not able to run the first season. He put on some weight and did not come back to the team.
Before our first morning running together I don't remember him running on any kind of regular basis, but that morning starting what would be years of early morning runs. I could not keep up an quite frankly did not want to get out of bed so he was soon doing the runs by himself. He was not out there to break any records. He never ran in a single race and I don't think he ever ran much over 3 miles. He just used it as time to think, pray, and stay in shape. Eventually he stopped running because of a bad knee. He should have had surgery years ago but is stubborn so he has had to result to other kinds of exercise.
My dad has always been a big supporter of my running. He and my mom were at all of my high school meets, track and cross country. He listens to my excitement about running and offers advice. However, he does not share the same excitement for the sport that I do. Even he, a runner, has trouble comprehending why I would put myself through some of the things I put myself through to keep my dream alive. I guess he started a spark in me and it has grown into a fire.