In celebration of Father鈥檚 Day, here are some of our favorite memories of biking, hiking, and getting lost with dad.

Dads Can Teach Us (Almost) Anything

I had just turned eight years old, which meant I finally got to go on the annual Barronian backpacking trip with my dad, uncle, and cool older brothers and cousin. I鈥檇 wanted to join them for several years but was: (1) a brat and (2) too small. After promising that I wouldn鈥檛 complain, I packed my little clothes in a JanSport backpack. Then we set off for a lake in the Cascades. We got to camp, I had to pee, and my dad realized I鈥檇 yet to learn the backcountry squat. He poorly mimicked the action, told me to pull my sweats all the way to my ankles, and sent me on my way. I dropped trou, did a tiny squat directly over them, and peed squarely into my sweats. After hearing my yells for help, Dad extricated me from my mess and strung up some paracord to hang the pants dry. Once I was comfortably zipped into a pair of dry jeans, I thought my embarrassment was behind me. That ended when a few friendly deer wandered into camp and started treating the sweats like a salt lick. Some advice to the outdoor parents: ask mom to teach your daughters backcountry bathroom technique. 鈥擜bigail Barronian, senior editor

A Day on the Water

My father was a minister and a schoolteacher, but he had a lifelong fascination with traditional wooden boats鈥攕o much so that he often considered setting up his own construction shop. One summer when I was a young teen, he took me and my older brother on road trips up and down the Maine coast, where we lived, to visit various boatbuilders. These craftspeople welcomed us graciously and talked trade and business openly, happy to have someone interested in joining the small pool of skilled individuals keeping the profession alive.

One drizzly Saturday, we drove down the west side of Penobscot Bay to Christmas Cove, where a group of boatbuilders had gathered. Tied up to the docks was a remarkable collection of handcrafted boats of every shape and style. We were free to take any of them out, on our own, for as long as we liked. At first my father went with us as we sailed around the cove in a sleek 16-foot sloop, but soon he spent his time mingling with the builders while my brother and I took out boat after boat: skiffs and punts, canoes and kayaks. My brother fell in love with a well-balanced peapod that leapt forward in the water with every stroke of his oars, while I kept coming back to a sturdy working dory that glided across the cove as I stood and skulled the long oar off the stern in a soothing figure eight. Years later I still recall the lustrous colors of the hardwoods, the music of the waves flowing past the hull, the thrill of moving across the water on my own power, and the lovely exhaustion when we called it a day and my father drove us home while we slept in the car. 鈥擩onathan Beverly, senior running editor

C鈥檈st La Vie on Class III Rapids

They say that when something bad happens, we block out the details, so I am guessing many of the specifics in my anecdote are just plain wrong. That said, this adventure had too few details to begin with. My dad took me (age ten) and my brother (age eight) down a river in the South of France. We were both mediocre swimmers, and the three of us were in our swimsuits on blow-up floaties. We hadn鈥檛 scouted the river or even looked at a map beforehand. Instead, we鈥檇 bought the rafts, hopped on them in a fast-moving river we knew nothing about, and then allowed the universe take care of the rest. We came across a pond filled with chicken heads鈥攊t was bait used by a nearby restaurant to catch eels. We also saw hundreds of bemused and horrified French onlookers, who gazed at us from the quickly passing shore. We suffered multiple skinned knees and shins, and our mattresses were punctured. And the whole time, we did not see one other floater or swimmer or human of any kind on the river. Finally, we encountered one very large waterfall and managed to survive听by an extremely gracious miracle鈥攚ell, I suppose it was three miracles. 鈥擧annah McCaughey, creative director

Dad Jokes on the Misery Trail

There are two things in this world that, without question, will make my dad smile: Monty Python鈥檚 鈥淭he Argument鈥� sketch, and mountain biking or skiing in terrible conditions. And there鈥檚 nothing he loves more than his children suffering along with him on outdoor misadventures. I have never been more furious at him than during the countless rides we鈥檝e gone on together. There鈥檚 a nice little montage running through my head of the times I ignored his friendly questions on brutal climbs or asked him (not so politely) to stop circling me at the top of a hill while I was struggling to regain my breath. A few years ago in California, my dad suggested we try one of the longest, hardest rides I鈥檇 attempted to date. (I do take full responsibility for accepting.) We were hit with an extremely rare thunderstorm, and I fell at least five times on the slippery rocks and lost feeling in my toes and hands about an hour in to the ride, so when he jokingly told me that that the hot-water heater at home was broken on the miserably soggy last stretch back to the car, I听yelled, 鈥�It鈥檚 not funny!鈥� This either makes me a bad biking partner or makes him slightly annoying. But although he gets giddier and I get grumpier as conditions worsen, he鈥檚 somehow still my favorite person to bike with. 鈥擪elly Klein, associate gear editor

Big Fish, Little Fishing Pole

When I was seven years old, my favorite outdoor activity was fishing alongside my dad. My prized possession was a two-foot-long fishing pole emblazoned with pictures of Snoopy from the Peanuts cartoon. Most weekends, my father would drive me out to some lake or river along Colorado鈥檚 Front Range, and I would cast a lure or some greasy salmon eggs into the water and wait for the magical tug of a trout. Usually, my catches were mere minnows, since that鈥檚 all my child arms and toy fishing pole were able to reel ashore. My Dad was always impressed and enthusiastic, no matter if my fish was just a few inches long. In the summer of 1988, we took a family road trip from Denver up through Yellowstone and Grand Teton national parks, and on to Missoula, Montana to visit family friends. The trip culminated with both families sharing a cabin along the banks of Big Sky Lake. No sooner had we arrived than I ran down to the docks, threaded a worm onto a hook, and zinged a cast into the lake with my Snoopy pole. The bait had barely hit the water when I felt a violent tug, and I began to pull the fish to shore. My dad abandoned unpacking the car and grabbed a net and ran down to the dock. Somehow, some way, I managed to reel in a true lake monster鈥攁 gorgeous rainbow trout that today, 33 years later, still feels like it was ten feet long. I still remember the flabbergasted look on my dad鈥檚 face when he netted the huge fish and hauled it ashore. He was truly, astonished that his son, wielding a toy fishing pole, and caught a fish that could feed six people. 鈥�Fred Dreier, articles editor

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When I moved back in with my parents after college, my dad鈥檚 hearing was waning. My folks, Don and Lynn, lived in Alexandria, Virginia, south of Washington, D.C., on the Potomac River. It was 2003, and I鈥檇 relocated to the area to race bikes for a local elite team and compete in the summerlong calendar of national-level events held up and down the East Coast.

At the time, it was hard to tell whether my dad was in denial about his hearing loss鈥攈e was only 60鈥攐r just figured it was your problem, not his. You鈥檇 say something in a completely normal tone of voice, and seemingly frustrated, he鈥檇 snap back with a variety of responses: 鈥淲hat?鈥� 鈥淪peak up!鈥� 鈥淪top mumbling!鈥� or 鈥淓nunciate,鈥� emphasizing nun, in case you didn鈥檛 get it.

鈥淒ad!鈥� I鈥檇 yell at him. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e literally a caricature of an old man losing his hearing.鈥�

He seemed more proud of that fact than embarrassed by it, and besides, in the basement he鈥檇 devised a solution: a cutting-edge home-theater system, complete with a projector TV and a closet full of warm, humming electronics. He鈥檇 come back from a long day in D.C., where he worked as an assistant to the inspector general in the Department of Health and Human Services, take off his suit, enjoy dinner and a couple glasses of wine, then unwind on the sectional couch and crank whatever he was watching to eleven.

Be damned his twentysomething bike-bum son who was in the room down the hall, trying to get to bed so he could wake up and ride five hours before working a shift at the bike shop. I鈥檇 try to ignore the wall-vibrating bass, put on a pair of headphones, or squish a pillow over my head. But inevitably, the best option was just to go out and join him. In the summer, when the Tour de France was on, I was happy to.

This was near the height of Armstrong hysteria, after all. A small cable channel called Outdoor Life Network had bought the rights to broadcast the Tour in the U.S., and for the first time we could watch the race in its entirety, all 21 stages. Prior to that, my family, along with every other American bike-racing fan, had consumed video coverage of the Tour via a Sunday afternoon special or a daily 30-minute highlight reel on ESPN.

That year, Lance was chasing his fifth Tour win. Each stage went live with the sunrise every morning and was then repackaged into a two-hour prime-time show. My dad appreciated the commentary and analysis from 翱尝狈鈥檚 polished British announcers, Paul Sherwen and Phil Liggett. But he would laugh out loud at the hijinks of Bob 鈥�Bobke鈥� Roll, the quirky former pro with thinning hair and imperfect teeth who brought a distinctly American flair to the Tour coverage, in particular, an inability to correctly pronounce the event. His version: 鈥淭our day 贵谤补苍肠别.鈥�

For three generations, cycling had swirled around my family. My dad inherited a passion for the sport from his uncle, then passed it down to my brother and me. My parents fell in love on a bike ride across the Golden Gate Bridge. My brother competed in his first mountain-bike race in the eighth grade, and I followed not long after. We were exposed to classic road races like and via weather-beaten magazines and grainy VHS tapes. In college, when I became obsessed with road racing myself, I read rider diaries from the Tour on burgeoning cycling websites like . It seemed somewhat surreal to my dad and me that we could now watch the Tour live from thousands of miles away.

Bike racing is unlike any other sport I know of. It鈥檚 an endurance sport on vehicles. A vehicle sport on open roads. A team sport with an individual winner. Life鈥檚 metaphors, its various struggles and successes, seem to play out in a more dramatic fashion in a bike race. At least they did for me and my dad. Riders conquer mountains and succumb to crashes on the way back down. They surge ahead of the group with a violent effort called an attack, form temporary allegiances to share the draft and break the wind, and then try to dispatch each other in the closing kilometers. A rider will lead the race alone for a hundred-some-odd kilometers and then get gobbled up by the charging peloton just meters from the finish.

For my dad and me, watching the Tour became akin to an annual fishing trip or a multi-day hike. Growing up, I spent countless hours pedaling behind him on a shiny aluminum tandem, exploring rural North Texas roads, where we lived in the nineties, and tackling the rocky singletrack overlooking Lake Grapevine. When my dad moved to D.C. in the 2000s, he lost his tight-knit group of bike-club friends, and also his impetus to ride. I was too strong, or too cool, to get out with him then. We didn鈥檛 bond on our bikes anymore, but watching the Tour, we came to know each other as adults.

My dad gave me his hearty laugh and his boyish eyes, but he could also be stoic, gruff, and comically reserved with his emotions. He鈥檇 ask how my car was running, and I understood that he loved me. Watching the Tour together, I cherished that,听though my dad had never competed, he understood the sport, and through it, he seemed to understand me. Despite its impracticality, he supported my decision to pursue bike racing professionally. He was good at asking questions, and he didn鈥檛 fully fall for Lance鈥檚 fairy tale. Over the years, we watched heroic performances with a healthy amount of skepticism but also shared an appreciation for underdogs. An unlikely hero would emerge, and we鈥檇 root for him to beat the odds.

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When our fathers tell us tales of their wild youth, we usually listen closely. This is partly because hearing about pop鈥檚 bolder, bearded past is entertaining. But more importantly, when your dad shares an experience from his younger days, you learn something about who he is鈥攚hich gives you a glimpse into your own origins. This week, in the run-up to Father鈥檚 Day, we bring you the story of a family that wanted to better understand the meaning听behind dad鈥檚 crazy stories. What they discovered is that his pursuit of adventure was all about transforming himself into the best kind of man and parent he could be.

This episode is brought to you by , a one-of-a-kind destination nestled in the Ozark Mountains of northwest Arkansas. People say the most curious things when they visit Eureka Springs. Come for yourself and find out why. Eureka Springs, Arkansas. Curious, indeed.

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I鈥檒l tell you a secret: The dad in your life doesn鈥檛 want things for Father鈥檚 Day. Yes, golf clubs are nice, and if you鈥檙e thinking of getting him a new mountain bike, you should definitely do that. But what he really wants is a little bit of order in his life. Because fatherhood is chaos. There are shoes everywhere. My basement is basically just a sea of Legos,听stuffed animals, and Nerf guns. For some reason, someone put a hairbrush and scrunchies in the fridge. And don鈥檛 get me started on the car, which is听a superfund site. My family consists of听two kids, a dog, a geriatric cat, a wife with an affinity for kitchen gadgets, and we鈥檙e all crammed inside a house that鈥檚 roughly the size of a cubicle in corporate America. That鈥檚 why I dream about books arranged alphabetically on shelves and a robot butler that follows my children around picking up all of the half-eaten sandwiches and dirty glasses they set down throughout the day. Bringing order to parental chaos is an uphill battle, but there are a handful of products that can help organize certain aspects of a dad鈥檚 life, from the garage to the campsite.

Organization for the Car: Decked D-Bag ($175)听

Don鈥檛 think of the as an expensive duffel bag. Think of it as a go-bag for the most fun aspects of your life. This expandable hardshell/softshell hauler听was designed to be packed full of gear, with a 42-liter outer bag that鈥檚 loaded with interior organizational features, like a tool roll that has slots for wrenches and screw drivers, and two zippered bags for loose items like batteries or snacks. The tool roll snaps onto the hardshell panel, but can snap out and roll up to be carried separately. There鈥檚 also a smaller duffel that snaps in and out of the bag too, like听Russian nesting dolls of organization. The D-Bag is designed for听jobs that听require tools, but I鈥檝e found it鈥檚 perfect for holding all of my mountain bike gear (helmet, shoes, gloves, extra layers, snacks, tools, pump, and tubes).听The flat, hard-shell shape of the bag makes it easy to pack in your truck or trunk, so it can live inside your car.

Organization for the Garage: Front Runner Wolf Pack ($40)听

People have been using the 鈥渂in system鈥� for garage organization since caveman times, so the concept at play here isn鈥檛 groundbreaking, but the 听by overlanding brand Front Runner听is a superior bin. It鈥檚 made from plastic that鈥檚 tough enough to stand on with lids that lock tight. The bins stack on top of each other like Legos, which makes storing and packing more orderly. At 31 liters, I think it鈥檚 the perfect size鈥攂ig enough to fit an entire camp kitchen set up, but not too big that you start overstuffing it with crap you don鈥檛 need. I have two of these: one听to hold all of my camp kitchen supplies, and the other holds my fire kit, kindling, matches, a small axe, and work gloves. If I could, I鈥檇 have a dozen of these stacked in my garage, each neatly containing a different aspect of my outdoorsy life.

Organization for the Backpack: Peak Design听Packing Cubes ($30 and up)

Not all packing cubes are created equal. Peak Design鈥檚 are loaded with smart features and听are made from super-light recycled weatherproof and abrasion-resistant nylon. It has the typical main compartment for stuffing shirts or socks, but the back of the cube has a second expandable compartment that separates dirty clothes from clean pieces.听It also has an expansion zipper that doubles the size of the cube, but then zips back down to compress the contents inside. The small version fits nine liters of clothes (about 10 shirts) and the medium is twice as big. There鈥檚 also a shoe-specific pouch that rolls up tight when you鈥檙e not using it. When I travel again, I will organize my pack or roller luggage with these nifty cubes. (I can say nifty because I鈥檓 a dad.)

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Organization for the Campsite: NiteIze Gear Line ($20)

My family brings a lot of stuff to camp. I can somehow manage to wear the same shirt and pair of shorts for six days in a row, but my son burns听through an entire wardrobe before breakfast. For a semblance of organization, we hang dirty clothes on the tent poles outside of the tent鈥攏ot a good look. And then there are water bottles,听lanterns,听mugs, toys,听and other random items tossed around camp. Enter the , a four-foot long ribbon of order with D-ring webbing and built-in carabiners. It lets me hang clothes, hats, and all of the little things that clutter a campsite. I wish the Gear Line was twice as long, but as is, it鈥檚 the perfect length to hang inside your tent or between two trees.

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Filmmaker听 thought that he needed to be risk averse to raise children appropriately. In reality,听the lessons that arose in his family鈥檚 adventures听molded his and his partner鈥檚听children听into strong and determined听critical thinkers, which he believes听will help them succeed in adulthood.听

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I鈥檓 always sore. I blame my high school buddies, who challenged me to a daily push-up competition during our pandemic stay-at-home orders.听My running mileage has also increased significantly with all this time on my hands. Combine all that activity with the fact that I am solidly in my 40s, and yeah, my muscles hurt all the time. I鈥檓 not alone; based on some informal polling, I鈥檇 say that roughly 100 percent of the dads reading this article right now are at least a little sore from trying to pretend they鈥檙e not as old as their age implies. It鈥檚 time to take a serious look at those high-end massage guns that are probably blowing up your social media feed.

You know what I鈥檓 talking about. They look like Black & Decker power tools and have become indispensable accessories for seemingly all pro athletes in recent years. I used one of the high-end models at a running camp last fall and spent most of my downtime torturing my quads. I immediately understood all the hype. If you鈥檝e never used one, imagine a tiny听but very strong man punching the muscle of your choice 2,000 times a minute. It鈥檚 like a deep tissue massage with the push of a button鈥攏ot that there鈥檚 any conclusive science to suggest these tools听will actually help you recover from that hard workout any faster. The brands behind these devices say they increase blood flow while reducing inflammation and tension, all of which might be true, but the jury鈥檚 still out on that research. You don鈥檛 need studies to tell you a massage feels great, and these guns give you that feeling with the push of a button.

The technology has gotten better over the years. Therabody (formerly known as Theragun), the leader in the massage gun space, has released a new model that鈥檚 outrageously powerful, quieter, and easier to use than its previous products. Meanwhile, devices in the budget category have improved and are finally worthy of your attention. I spent the past three weeks testing three popular models from different price ranges. All three had their benefits, although I don鈥檛 think just one is the silver bullet for muscle pain. I鈥檒l always foam roll and use pressure-point devices, but these guns are a powerful addition to my recovery routine.

Theragun Pro听Gen 4 ($599)

Best For: Replacing your massage therapist

Here it is, the Cadillac of massage guns. The darling of social media and sponsored athletes. You could argue that the 听is overpriced, but you can鈥檛 argue with the results:听this听new Pro G4 delivers a superior massage. The key is the QuietForce brushless motor that has five different speeds, from 1,700 to 2,400 percussions per minute. And it has power in the metric that truly counts: 60 pounds of stall force, which is an estimate of how much force each percussion delivers to your body. This is a commercial-grade machine, and it feels like it, from the hefty build to the wallop it听puts into your muscles. The Gen 4 has a new motor that鈥檚 supposedly half as loud as the Gen 3 version, but it鈥檚 still the loudest of the three I tested. I鈥檓 guessing that the trade-off for all that power is a bit of background noise. So, you have to ask yourself: do you want a quiet, relaxing massage, or do you want to suffer in the best way possible? If you have trouble with big, hard-to-penetrate muscles like your glutes, the Pro is your jam. It鈥檚 not light鈥�2.9 pounds鈥攂ut it has an adjustable arm that lets you use it听to work a variety of areas without fatiguing your hands. It comes with a number of attachments, a carrying case, and an extra battery, so you can always have one charged and ready to rock. But do you need a recovery听tool this powerful? It depends. Do weekend warriors need carbon fiber mountain bikes? If you want a gun that might eliminate the need to get that weekly massage, don鈥檛 bother with anything else.

Trigger Point Impact ($199)

Best For: The everyday athlete

sits in a weird limbo world:听much cheaper than the industry leaders in the space听but still too expensive (at least to me) to be considered a 鈥渂udget鈥� choice. The gun also performs in that middle ground: better than cheaper tools but not as powerful as the top-tier guns. It has four speeds鈥攆rom 2,100 to 3,300 percussions per minute鈥攚hich sounds like a lot, but remember: stall force is the number you鈥檙e looking for when comparing these guns. Trigger Point doesn鈥檛 advertise the stall force on its website or packaging, and when I reached out to the brand, it couldn鈥檛 give me any specifics. Judging by how the gun feels, I鈥檓 guessing the stall force is somewhere in the middle between the Sportneer and the Theragun. It鈥檚 plenty powerful, and the unique design lets you use two hands at once to drive the head into your muscle. The battery is designed to shut down after ten听minutes of use, which is annoying but听probably for the best鈥擨 imagine you could overdo it with these guns and walk out of a session like a wet noodle. The Impact doesn鈥檛 deliver the thumping of the Theragun, but it is significantly quieter and weighs half a pound less. It doesn鈥檛 come with a lot of frills鈥攖here is no carrying case and no extra attachments鈥攂ut it is a solid piece of machinery that can give you a relatively deep massage without forcing you to dip into your kid鈥檚 college fund. For the majority of people, the Impact is likely as much of a gun as they鈥檒l ever need.

听

Sportneer Percussion ($140)

Best For: Quiet massages on sensitive muscles

This little gun gets crazy-good reviews on Amazon and is considered to be one of the best budget options on the market. It鈥檚 so inexpensive that it had me wondering if it would offer anything beyond one of those handheld massagers they sell at Bed Bath and Beyond. 听is definitely the least powerful model I reviewed, with 20 pounds of stall force, compared to 60 in the Theragun. And you can feel the difference, not just in the thump to your muscles but in the gun鈥檚 weight and build. It鈥檚 lightweight听where the Theragun is meaty. But a beefy motor and more power don鈥檛 always mean better performance. It depends on what you鈥檙e looking for. This tool听isn鈥檛 going to give you the same deep-tissue beating that the Theragun gives you, but 20 pounds of stall force is still significant.听This is a legitimate recovery tool听and happens to be way quieter than the other two on this list. On the lowest setting, you can barely hear it. It offers five different percussion-per-minute rates鈥攆rom 1,200 to 3,200鈥攁nd comes with a handful of attachment heads so you can fine-tune the pressure. The Sportneer ended up being my wife鈥檚 favorite of the three I reviewed. (She said the Theragun was too intense.) I liked it for sensitive areas like my calves and triceps. If you want a massage gun to add to your recovery routine and budget is your top concern, the Sportneer is the gun for you.

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It鈥檚 a fact: dads are opinionated. And there are a lot of opinions to be had when it comes to outdoor gear. For Father鈥檚 Day, we wanted to know what products our gear team鈥檚 dads are obsessed with. After a few phone calls and paragraph-long texts, we rounded up the tools and apparel they swear by.

Yeti Rambler 20-Ounce Tumbler with Magslider Lid ($30)

My father speaks about his and my mother鈥檚 as if they are part of the family. Judging from how much time they spend together these days, a sensitive son such as myself might feel like he鈥檚 been replaced by a vacuum-insulated beverage holder. He purchased their beloveds in 2015, and they haven鈥檛 gone anywhere without them since. He and my mother spend three months a year chartering sailboats around the world and so bring two humongous rolling duffels filled with safety equipment, fishing gear, and navigation aids on every trip. I suspect they would be mightily disappointed if they lost either of these very important duffels and their costly contents, but it would be an all-out catastrophe if they lost their Yeti tumblers听(which they carry听on the plane, obviously). Without them, there would be no perfectly chilled, questionably sized听gin and tonics on anchor in the British Virgin Islands or piping-hot French-press coffee while behind the helm just after sunrise in Tahiti. When I texted my father for this write-up, he sent me five messages in a row鈥攖he fastest consecutive replies听I鈥檝e ever received from him. 鈥淚 use it almost every night,鈥澨齢e wrote. 鈥淜eeps my beverage just right and my hands from getting too cold or hot!!鈥� He added one more note, which might be a statement or a warning: 鈥淒on鈥檛 leave home without them!鈥� 鈥擶ill Taylor, gear director

ScotteVest听Quest Vest ($199)

My dad鈥檚 favorite movie is The Bourne Identity. Nothing excites him more than a Sunday-evening TNT airing of any film in the Bourne series. I think he secretly moonlights as an international spy and studies the movies for espionage tactics. He听didn鈥檛 even provide a photo for this article (Maybe because he doesn鈥檛听want to be identified by international intelligence agencies.) So it鈥檚 fitting that every Christmas he talks my family鈥檚 ear off about his , a travel vest with a whopping . But they鈥檙e not immediately noticeable, unlike a cargo version. This sleekness is what he loves about the brand (which also makes shirts, pants, and jackets). 鈥淚t can hold a lot!鈥澨齢e听preaches, flashing the insides of the vest like a guy in a trench coat selling watches. (He does this presentation for my family each听year.) He especially likes the ScotteVest听for breezing through airport security: 鈥淎ll I have to do is take off the whole vest and put it in the bin.鈥� I鈥檓 not really sure why he needs all of those pockets, though; one dad can only carry so many tools. But I don鈥檛 ask. His reasoning is probably top secret. 鈥擩eremy Rellosa, reviews editor

Arc鈥檛eryx Atom LT Hoody ($259)

My dad is more obsessed with gear than anyone else I know, which says a lot given what I do for a living. No trip home is complete without our own personal gear show-and-tell. He grills me with questions about the new backpack or running shoes I鈥檓 testing and then brings out听whatever new hiking boots or gloves he鈥檚 discovered at the local shop. Inevitably, all roads lead back to the one item he prizes above all others: his . This听aerobic midlayer, which pairs synthetic insulation with a breathable, stretchy, DWR-coated exterior, is one of Arc鈥檛eryx鈥檚 most enduringly popular pieces. It was around before Polartec Alpha and 鈥渁ctive insulation鈥澨齜ecame industry buzzwords. What does my dad love about it? 鈥淚n a nutshell,鈥澨齢e says,听鈥渆verything.鈥澨齌hough ultimately听he鈥檒l tell you that there actually is听one feature that听sealed the deal for him. 鈥淚t鈥檚 the best hood I鈥檝e ever used,鈥澨齢e says. 鈥淗oods can be kind of restricting. But this one, often I don鈥檛 even realize I鈥檓 wearing it.鈥� 鈥擜riella Gintzler, associate editor

Adidas Solar Boost听Shoes ($160)

For the past 16 years, my stepdad, Vic, has started every day the same way: he wakes up at six, laces up his kicks, and runs. He鈥檚 not trying to beat the world record for most consecutive daily five-mile jogs in a row; he just likes to stick to a routine. He first tried the four years ago and hasn鈥檛 looked back since. Once he logs 450 miles on a pair of Solar Boosts, he buys another. (Vic keeps a calendar by the treadmill to mark each day he wears the sneakers.) He loves them because the plush sole minimizes impact on his knees. They always come along when he travels听and offer just as much support on jaunts around a new city as they do on the treadmill at home. Vic is so passionate about these shoes that every time I visit, he offers to get me a pair of my own. I remind him that my day starts at a significantly later time and daily mile-long jogs are still aspirational to me. 鈥擟laire Hyman, gear columnist

Specialized Roubaix Elite Road Bike ($2,800)

My dad鈥檚 a quiet guy, so there鈥檚 not really anything he won鈥檛 stop talking about. His love for his road bike is more of a show-don鈥檛-tell affair鈥攈e uses it to commute to work a few days a week and to ride loops in the mountains nearly every weekend. When I asked what he liked so much about it, he responded in his trademark understated fashion: 鈥淚t feels fast.鈥� After his last bike, which was a too-big hand-me-down from his brother, he decided it was time to sink some real money into a well-fitting, carbon-fiber model with nice Shimano 105 components. He doesn鈥檛 race and averages 25- to 40-mile days, so 鈥渋t鈥檚 plenty bike for me,鈥� he says. He also sprung for some nice ($170), which he says have been worth every dollar, though my mom 鈥渃ontinues to give [him] shit鈥� for them. 鈥擬aren Larsen, assistant editor

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A lot of my time鈥攅specially these days鈥攊s spent with my kids. It鈥檚 been hard, yes, but also a blessing, because I might never get to enjoy听so much uninterrupted time with them again. To keep myself productive and the kids entertained over the past couple听months, I鈥檝e come to rely on some specific gear. These items make great听gifts for the dads in your life, during the quarantine and not.

Yeti Rambler 26-Ounce Vacuum Bottle with Chug Cap ($40)

At about 10 A.M., my kids go crazy. They鈥檝e done a little homework, watched TV, and need to run around. As we head out to the local park or hiking trails, I always pack this bottle. It鈥檚 my favorite because it鈥檚 not only indestructible,听but it also keeps my water cold and comes with Yeti鈥檚 Chug cap. Its durability is important because my kids always find clever ways to beat it up. And the proprietary cap is handy听because my four-year-old can drink from the bottle without making a total mess, even in the car.

Ursa Major Sublime Sage Spray Deodorant ($18)

Thanks to the spray design, this deodorant goes on quicker and cleaner than any gel I鈥檝e ever used. And听when we鈥檙e ready to leave the house, every second听counts when dealing听with whiny, grumpy kids. I also love the scent and the fact that it鈥檚 made from natural ingredients. I鈥檓 not that worried about my deodorant choice, but my daughter is: it gives her peace of mind that I鈥檓 not rubbing unnecessary chemicals all over my body.

Chrome Urban Ex Rolltop听28L Backpack ($140)

鈥淒ad, can I have some water?鈥� 鈥淒ad, can I have a snack?鈥� 鈥淒ad, can I have my jacket?鈥� I probably hear similar questions 25 times a day, and all of them prompt me to dig through my backpack. That鈥檚 why I鈥檝e come to love the rolltop Urban Ex, which has a single cavernous chute that allows for quick access to whatever my kids are requesting. In fact, if we鈥檙e just at the park, I don鈥檛 even shut the rolltop, so that the bag becomes a sort of large听tote with shoulder straps. Bonus points for the fully waterproof design: the pack is easy to wash out if I forget a banana at the bottom of the bag and it gets smashed.

All Good SPF 30 Kid鈥檚 Mineral Sunscreen Spray Six Ounce ($22)

My kids hate sunscreen that burns their eyes and strings when it鈥檚 sprayed on skinned knees. That鈥檚 why we turned to this version from All Good; it听uses zinc oxide and is much easier on their skin. Like all mineral sunscreens, it has to be rubbed in a little more, but my kids feel that鈥檚 a fair trade-off鈥攑lus, they like the smell. I like it because it comes in a spray bottle for easy application, and it鈥檚 not horrible for the environment (coral reefs specifically). I happily use the kid鈥檚 version on myself, but the company makes an , too.

Poc Will Sunglasses ($130)

These shades are survivors because they鈥檙e built out of Grilamid鈥攖he same stuff high-end ski boots are made from鈥攏ot to mention they鈥檝e lived through constant wrestling matches with my rambunctious kids. Thanks to a special coating, the lenses are easy to clean of tiny fingerprints. When I get sweaty, hydrophilic rubber grippers on the nose and temples keep the glasses from slipping off. I also like the style. The nose bridge and unique shape of the lenses make them stand out in a sea of similar-looking dad-approved sunglasses.

Apple AirPods Pro ($235)

Sometimes I need to hide from my kids鈥攅ither to get work done or听take a break鈥攁nd these headphones let me do it. With their built-in noise-canceling feature, I can work on the laptop for a couple of hours and not be distracted by shouting or whining. The high-quality speaker components create incredible fidelity, so I can appreciate whatever I鈥檓 listening to. Unlike over-the-ear sound-canceling headphones, these听are also great for workouts: I can use them on a solo run or ride when some alone time to refresh is called for.

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