It’s 5am, and I’ve begun Father’s Day by driving 95 mph drive up the highway, frantically juggling coffee, sunscreen, and a race number that refuses to pin itself straight. Wait…isn’t Father’s Day supposed to be a day of rest? The one day every Dad can sleep in, waking only for the smell of pancakes from a kid-filled kitchen or the sunrise nudge-nudge of a willing partner?

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A Perfect Father’s Day at the San Francisco Marathon

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