An interview with NYPD's Bryan Quinn

The alumni interview series continues. But first, before we dive deep into the awesome story of Bryan Quinn (Class of 2008), it occurs to me we need a “name” for this series. My two, alliterative working titles are: The Pandemic Papers (for journalism nerds like me, it’s a takeoff on the Pentagon Papers) or Quarantine Questions. I’m leaning toward the first one. Let me know your thoughts (email me at runhed246@hotmail.com or text me at 845 309 3640) Anyway!

Here we go today with Bryan Quinn, who took the long road to become a member of Red Fox Nation. But once he was here, boy, did he make the most of his time in the red and white. He is now a member of New York’s Finest, as a detective with the NYPD; his career path, since he started as a 22-year-old patrol, is truly impressive. In this time of pandemic, and really at all times, his is a noble and high-risk profession. Like all of our alums, I’m proud of everything that they have done and that they continue to do.

Describe your high school career highlights in track/XC (there were many, as we KNOW) and what shaped you as an athlete? 

I started my High School TF/XC career at Northport High School under the tutelage of the great Tim Dearie (Marist Alumnus!). The program quickly rose from "middle of the pack" within our small League to a seasonal national powerhouse for years to come. While I was there, we won five consecutive County Championships (one shy of a back-to-back Triple Crown), three State 4x800 Championships, and our crown jewel, a Penn Relays Distance Medley Championship of America in 2003.  Individually, I was able to achieve PR's of 1:54 (Loucks Games Champion), 2:31 (State Indoor Runner Up), and 4:18 (Outdoor Eastern States Champion).

It became obvious to me much later in life that the close personal relationship forged by Coach Dearie at such a young age really shaped me both as an athlete, and as a person.  Whether it be the implementation of positive affirmation index cards, constant pre-race confidence boosts, pre-race prayer, or the encouragement and freedom to lead the team as an extension of one of the coaches.

Describe the path you took to attending Marist.

Oh boy. To be brutally honest, I was blinded by the idea of "Bigger is Better."  Growing up, I wanted nothing more than to go to a big Division I school, particularly a Big East Conference school.  My dream college ever since I can remember was St. John's University. I was thrilled once I was recruited by their program, and soon disappointed to learn the program was cut due to Title IX in the middle of my recruitment.  Right around this time is when my indoor season really started to gain some additional attention. I took official visits with UConn, Baylor, Oklahoma State, and Marist. I chose the middle-distance driven school, UConn, and quickly realized I was just a number. I lacked the personal touch and attention I was used to; I didn't have that feeling of being one of the guys there and the insane pressure to constantly perform with no room for error really started to eat at me. My performances and grades really started to suffer. To be fair, my mother LOVED Marist and literally told me, "I told you so" after I ended up leaving UConn after my freshman year.

Finding Coach Pete was the match I needed. Although, Pete's personality couldn't be further from Coach Dearie's, their coaching style, ability to connect, talk to you like a human being, and understand the pressures of everyday life allowed me to pick up where I left off at Northport and to continue at Marist in the fall of 2004. Pete always made himself available for a chat in his office, a call during a break, a talk to settle nerves, a proof read of a paper (due the next day), or literally anything that he could do that provided that little extra comfort of home. As personal or as close as we got, I always felt the need to bust my ass for the man.  Whether it be on a double at the armory or the 12th hill repeat in a workout, Pete still created a sense of pride in the program and a pride in your work.

What are some of your favorite memories/career highlights from your time at Marist on the track and in cross country? 

DISNEY. The MAAC XC Championships in 2004 was my first real taste of "Team" since I graduated from Northport.  We had great leaders on that team who I had remembered meeting back on my Official Visit: Geoff Decker, Steve Hicks, and Sean Hopkins.  These were great guys who embraced me as a transfer.  I never felt like I had missed out after coming into the team a year later.

MILLROSE. The Millrose Games of 2005 (back when they were at Madison Square Garden), was truly a "bucket list" must for the world of Track & Field.  Leading that race and hanging in the tunnels of MSG with Coach Pete, Geoff Decker, Mike Bamberger and Brian DeMarco is something that will stick with me forever.

Individually, I'd have to say my first program record in the 1000-meter run.  I came into Marist looking at that record and knew it was something I really wanted by the time I graduated.  I can still hear Kris Geist on the infield of BU yelling "Go Daddy, Go!" LOL. 

What are some of the important lessons you learned during your time at Marist?

I learned how truly important it is to stay connected.  The friendships I formed throughout my time at Marist were, and still are, what I value the most.  Whether it be attending the countless weddings, BBQs, Bachelor Parties, Baby Showers, or weekend getaways, it all started at Marist.

What did you major in at Marist and how did it prepare you for your current career in the NYPD?

I majored in Political Science, and although I didn't complete a minor in Criminal Justice, I did take several classes in that field.  I really never envisioned myself becoming any type of Law Enforcement. It's not in my family, nor did I have any friends that were in any police departments. My housemate and teammate, Jeff Belge, had a desire to be in law enforcement and dragged me with him to nearly every state/county/local entrance exam between New York & Connecticut. During a school break, I was at home on Long Island and decided to throw my name in the hat for the NYPD entrance exam. I honestly just fell into it. Those 30-page Poli Sci papers really came in handy!!!

If you could give current team members advice or guidance, based on your time at Marist and beyond, what would it be?

I hope Coach Pete doesn't roll his eyes at this, but this is how I truly feel...

ENJOY EVERY MINUTE.  Seriously, this is the easy stuff.  The fun stuff. The stuff you don't get to do again. The hard stuff comes later. Rent, buying a home, paying taxes. Juggling a career, family life, time for friends. You don't have to worry about a single one of those responsibilities at Marist (okay besides maybe rent - shout out to the BoyZone & Woodlawn Men's Club).  Embrace those meals together in the cafeteria, study groups in the library, Sunday long runs chatting with your teammates about the previous night's debauchery (sorry Pete).

You still follow the program's results (which, as an old coach, I find Highly Neat!). Why is that and what has impressed you the most about the team since your graduation?

Haha. I've never actually thought about, "why?"  I feel loyal to the program, loyal to my coach.  I have had and still have direct connections to the athletes.  Coach Dearie's son is currently a Red Fox (freshman Brendan Dearie).  I still follow a lot of Section XI results as well, and as we know Marist has a constant flow of athletes from here.  I probably also have a sense of competitiveness that doesn't just go away.  I love seeing the results week to week, thinking about how I would be able to insert myself on the current team, or how my teammates from "back in the day" would stack up.

I LOVED seeing the group of sprinters emerge and dominate this past winter season.  That's a breath of fresh air for a distance heavy program, and especially for a program that doesn't have a facility for them to train on. I'm impressed by the images I've seen of the newly renovated McCann Center.  The weight room looks insane. I'm constantly impressed in seeing how the program is able to pump out strong middle-distance runners dipping under 1:55. Bravo! Also, the women!  Coach Chuck seems to be the master recruiter he's always been, and he's done great in putting the Marist name at the front of the pack in recent years from what I've observed.

Tell us about your career path in the NYPD. When did you join, how did you ascend to your current position and what are your current duties?  

I started off on a foot post in Brooklyn's East New York neighborhood, the 75th Precinct. One of the few neighborhoods even the hipsters don't attempt to pioneer in.  It was a tough time in a tough, tough neighborhood (shootings, fights, gangs, homelessness, government housing) -but, being 22 years old and naive definitely helped me get through it. After about seven months there, I was transferred to a much nicer area - Long Island City, Queens - the 108th Precinct.  In the 108th Precinct I was assigned a patrol car answering 911 calls.  I was an "active cop" during 2009-2010; times were a little less sensitive then they are now. Being active, I was afforded a role as an "Anti-Crime Cop."  This meant I was able to perform my day-to-day duties in plain clothes and in an unmarked car. Our purpose was to address certain crime conditions within the precinct and attempt to proactively stop an uptick in that particular crime from spiking. In 2010, I had 100 arrests for the year, a number that probably wouldn't be advertised in today's climate. In 2012, I took on the role of the precinct's Field Intelligence Officer. My duties included obtaining and executing search warrants, undercover narcotics buys, undercover firearms buys, and maintaining a stable of confidential informants. My success in this position was recognized by my Commanding Officer, who awarded me with the promotion to Detective in 2013.  Throughout my tenure in the 108^th, I was awarded "Cop of the Year" three times and was recognized by the community several times for my service. After almost five years in this position, I finally left the precinct and took on my next assignment in the Police Impersonation Investigation Unit. My current unit is a small Detective Squad that focuses on major crimes (Shootings, Robberies, Burglaries, Larcenies) in which the perpetrator impersonates law enforcement. PIIU has been an eye-opening experience for me as I've been able to travel across the country for cases, apprehend individuals and extradite them back to New York, and even obtain Air Marshall training. I've been in the Unit since November of 2017 and will hit my 13th year "on the job" this July.

How has the Coronavirus impacted you and your colleagues professionally? Are you concerned about it now and in the future? How are you coping with it?  

Well, I'm currently in a small office with only 16 investigators and supervisors. My Commanding Officer has currently tested positive for the virus, and two of my fellow investigators are out with symptoms. We've been instructed to restrict going out on casework unless absolutely necessary. Our unit handles our own investigations top to bottom. So that means we canvass our crime locations, interview our witnesses/victims, canvass for video surveillance footage, apprehend our own subjects, and conduct our own search warrants, just to name a few of our responsibilities. Fortunately, a quarantine means people are in their homes (less burglaries), and not on the street (less robberies), so our caseload has dropped for the time being. I don't have too many personal concerns; I tend to take things as they come - one step at a time. The biggest stress in my opinion is the unknown. Going to work each day and not knowing how we are going to handle whatever comes in, or not being instructed on what's going on around us is the annoying part.  

I've actually been going on runs during my lunch breaks. My office is under the Queensboro Bridge with quick access to Manhattan, and I'm not too far from Brooklyn either. There are great paths along the East River that I've been using for some 3/4/5 mile runs.  It feels great to be getting back into great shape, and with an active pandemic, is there a better time than now?

How is the Coronavirus impacting you and your young family? Is everyone healthy and safe? Is Liv considered "essential" and still working? How old are your kids now?  

Olivia and I have two children. Caroline is turning 5 next month, and Graham is turning 3 in June. Our house is busy as you can imagine. Lots of LOL Dolls and Dinosaur toys spread throughout the house. Liv has done great with keeping their brains sharp with daily crafts and activities. We've been doing a lot of scooting through the neighborhood when the weather affords it. Thank God everyone here is healthy. We're fortunate Caroline was only in Pre-K, however, she is definitely missing her friends and teachers. Her birthday is April 30th and she was supposed to have her party on May 2nd, so that will be fun to explain to her when the time comes.

Liv is considered "essential" as a General Dentist but is restricted to taking emergencies only. The New York State Dental Association has put limitations on what procedures they are allowed to conduct so she's been on call for the better part of a week.

How has your running progressed lately and do you have any future goals athletically?  

Running has been amazing lately. I've recently found myself in love again after a good span of probably 10 years off (blech). I got fat. I hated it. Needed to change. I found myself really immersed in a new gym, OrangeTheory Fitness. I was able to really get my legs back under me and cut a lot of the weight. I started doing about 2.5 to 3 miles per class, about every other day. The last few months, I've really noticed an improvement. I've slimmed down, added muscle and started feeling strong enough to do track workouts again. Don't get me wrong, I "stay in my lane" and really only do 200 repeats with a 200 jog as the recovery.  My most recent workout from this past weekend was a mile warm up, mile tempo in 5:45, 600 at tempo pace, and 4x200 in 32/31/31/28.

I haven't jumped into any races yet, and with all that's going on in the world, it will probably be a while until I can. I'd like to race a 400-meter dash soon and see where my fitness level is really at.  If I can do a 5k under 19 minutes by the end of the summer, I'd be satisfied. 

Have you remained close to your classmates and former teammates at Marist? Any future visits planned to your old college?  

Myself, Mike Rolek aka Mikey Rolls, Bryan Dixon, and Tom Dixon talk regularly.  We compare notes on our red wine preferences weekly.  It's our attempt at keeping the Jerk Squad meetings alive!  The boys and their families along with my family recently went up to the Poconos for a weekend trip.  It's crazy to see our little offspring playing with each other and getting along.  A true blessing.

I'd love to get up to Marist soon and take the kids up on some hikes and maybe even a trek over the Walkway.  Fall in the Hudson Valley is a beautiful thing!

Anything else you'd like to add ...   

Stay Safe & Stay Healthy Everyone! Go Foxes!

Restarting the oddest semester

Today is the last day of our two-week Spring Break at Marist College. Unlike our neighbors over at Vassar College, where two-week spring breaks are the norm, to my knowledge this was the first-ever Spring Break that lasted two weeks here at Marist. In some regards, it has felt like two years. In others, it has felt like two minutes. Think back to where we were just a few weeks ago. There were still folks – a lot of people, smart people, many of whom I know and respect – who were wondering what the big deal was with this virus. A little worse than the flu. It’ll pass. We can still go about like business as usual. Aren’t we overreacting? I didn’t have a strong opinion either way. I’m not the smartest guy. Remember? I’m the moron holding the stopwatch over here. When I’m not sure about something, which is most of the time, I simply admit: “I don’t know.” But my feeling back then was: I’m not sure but … hey, this seems pretty serious. If we look back and say we were overreacting, we can laugh and remember the minor inconvenience. Well, we weren’t overreacting. Each day, each news story, each update, makes this very, very clear. The trajectory of this thing has given new weight to each passing day; this is what makes two weeks seem like two years. But by the same token, the sameness of the lack of normal routine and activities allows one day to blur into the next. As I posted the other day, it’s sometimes difficult to recall what day of the week it is. There’s a bizarre sameness to the days when your options are narrowed to … well, basically, not all that much.

So yeah. “Classes” – such as they are – resume on Monday. Everybody’s stressed out about it. Everybody. Professors, students, parents, administrators. What’s this online world of distance learning gonna BE like? Well, I can give you my narrow perspective. I’m teaching Public Presentations (COMM-101) this semester. You know. Public speaking. Get up in front of the class, get over your nerves, and talk. It’s not rocket science. Remember, the idiot with the stopwatch up in front of the class? He’s the professor. How do you translate public speaking into a distance learning format? Short answer: You don’t. Long answer: You adapt. Again, this is COMM-101. We’re not dissecting animals, going over complex economic theories, designing the next great fashions. We’re telling stories. So, my class will watch some hand-picked TED talks, and write papers analyzing them. We will do assignments and taken quizzes based on my class “textbook,” an awesome book called “How To Break Up With Your Phone,” by Catherine Price (I highly recommend it; I read it on the flight down to Orlando for the convention last December and it’s a game-changer). And yes, we’ll have a “final exam” presentation talk that they’ll have to do on their phones and send to me. No rocket science. We’ll muddle through the next six weeks together, via email and iLearn. We’ll figure it out.

This is the message I would like to convey to other professors and their students: Relax. Think differently. Be willing to adapt and conform. Chill out! This is going to be different because it IS different! There’s no roadmap here. Unless you are Bill Gates or an incredibly intelligent epidemiologist who has dedicated your life to pandemics and infectious diseases, no one could be expected to prepare for this, any of this. There’s no playbook here. And now that we are forming one, let’s hope to God we don’t need to USE it again in the future. Figure it out. Wash your hands and take care of yourselves and your loved ones. And again, hope to God that we look back on the Spring 2020 semester and say, “geez, glad THAT only happened one time.” 

An interview with Father Jacob Bertrand Janczyk

As we continue to try to expand the breadth and scope of this blog during this pandemic crisis, I came up with the idea of conducting email interviews with alums who can help us navigate our way through this uncertain time. First on my short list was Fr. Jacob Bertrand Janczyk, and I was thrilled when he agreed to take the bait. As I suspected, he did an amazing job with these questions – he went above and beyond. These two pictures (above, in 2019 and below, during the 2009 cross country season) were taken almost exactly 10 years apart. Here, then, is the complete interview with him.

Fr. Jacob Bertrand Janczyk, O.P. is a Marist alumnus (Class of 2010) and ran cross country and track during his time at Marist. Fr. Jacob Bertrand is a Catholic priest and a member of the Order of Preachers (commonly known as the Dominicans), a quasi-monastic religious community founded by St. Dominic de Guzman in 1216. The Dominicans are known for their lives of contemplation and study of theology and their preaching and teaching.

For those who don't know you, describe your time at Marist -- athletically and academically. What were your highlights as a runner, your fondest memories as an athlete and a student and any other thoughts or memories from your time here at Marist.

I graduated from Marist with a BS in Biomedical sciences and a minor in philosophy in 2010. I ran for Marist the four years that I was there. In high school, I was at home on the cross country course, but really loved the track in college. Indoors I ended up running a lot of 1k’s and miles, and outdoors I steepled. 

Of course there are highlights that stick out in my mind. Running a PR at any point is always memorable. More than particulars, the most significant memories are less the accomplishments, and certainly more the relationships and friendships on the team and on campus. I’m sure that’s a pretty universal experience for a lot of us alums.

Again more background: Describe briefly your path to the religious life, how it was received by friends and family, the 7-year process and what and where you are doing what you are doing now.

I never thought about the priesthood or religious life growing up. My family is Catholic, but not particularly devout. It was at Marist that I first thought that God might be calling me to the priesthood. As far as I can remember, the idea first crossed my mind early in my sophomore year, but it took a good while for me to consider this as a real possibility.

Fr. Richard LaMorte, the former chaplain, was extremely helpful. I didn’t think that I wanted to live diocesan or parish life, so he suggested that I look at religious life. He had grown up with a Dominican friar of my Province in the Bronx, so that was the connection for me. In February of my junior year I went on a vocation retreat in Washington, DC at the Dominican House of Studies (our seminary), and in April decided to apply. I actually received word that I was accepted on the old McCann track just before practice during intercession of my senior year.

I entered the order in 2010. Our studies and formation is a 7-year process. As religious, we profess the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. I made my simple (temporary) vows in 2011, solemn (final) vows in 2014. I was ordained a deacon in 2016 and a priest in 2017. I was assigned as the assistant Catholic chaplain at Dartmouth College after my ordination until the summer of 2018, when I was assigned as the Director of Vocations for my Province (basically the admissions director) and am currently living at our priory in Washington, DC.

My decision to enter religious life and study for the priesthood was always supported by those closest to me. I filled in my friends at Marist on this slowly. My family, particularly my parents, were quite reticent and not terribly excited. But, as time has gone and they’ve gotten to know what my life is like, they’ve come around.

How has running guided you throughout your life -- high school, college and then post-collegiately as a religious?

Like many people reading this blog, running has always been important in my life. I started running in high school and loved it from the beginning. My closest friends have always been from my teams. I probably don’t need to explain here all that much.

Entering religious life changed running a good bit. I am still able to run, though I’m certainly more of a hobby jogger at this point. One of the other friars that I entered with ran for a D3 school and ran a handful of marathons so we’ve run a bunch together. There have been some talented runners who have entered since, so there is certainly a small culture of running amongst the friars in DC. I was able to run the Philadelphia Marathon in 2014 and the last race I ran was 5k Walkway Over the Hudson in 2017.

How has the current Covid-19 situation impacted your freedom of movement -- can you run, what are you allowed or not allowed to do, etc?

The Order is global, but divided into provinces. My province is basically the northeast quarter of the country. Ohio and Kentucky are our western most states, and Kentucky and Virginia our southernmost. We are about 300 friars in total, and though the average age of friars in the Province is quite young, we do have many older friars. So, the Province has basically taken shelter in place precautions for almost two weeks now.

There are about 70 friars in the priory here in Washington (Domincans are “friars” and we live in priories whereas monks live in monasteries). Our superior has closed the priory to any guests and we have been limited to essential travel from the priory. The seminary classes have continued for the brothers and non-Dominican professors and students are attending remotely. Because we are such a large community, we assist the parishes in the archdiocese a lot, but aren’t allowed to do that currently.

Life in the community has continued. Our schedule of prayers and Mass for the community is the same (we’re in the chapel 2.5-3 hours a day). Classes are the same for the most part. We have a good deal of property for being in the city, so we aren’t trapped inside. At this point we’ve been allowed off the property to walk and run. 

The situation has been quite frustrating because, as priests, our ability to minister and serve the people of God has been severely cut off, both by secular and ecclesial provisions. A man is ordained a priest to function as another Christ, to mediate between God and man, particularly when people are experiencing difficulties. We simply aren’t able to do that in many ways. And, like most things outside of one’s control, there’s a feeling of helplessness here.

What advice can you give to us all on how to cope with the anxiety, stress, social isolation, economic impact/fear ... all of it ... in the coming days, weeks, months?

I am certainly no expert here and in many ways trying to figure that out for myself, but perhaps some general principles of religious life might be helpful.

Religious life is often known for its regularity and discipline. The idea here is that we remove any obstacles from our pursuit of Christ, even small things like making decisions about schedules. There is something to be said about maintaining some regularity to the day to keep some normalcy alive.

Growth in the spiritual life is accompanied by a healthy sense of detachment. We only have control over certain things and it is those things that should have our focus and attention. Excessive worry and helplessness really gets a hold of us when we are consumed by things that we can’t control.

Even though we may be isolated physically, we can still work acts of charity for others. Pray for others. Call family and friends. It’s always dangerous to create a world in which we are the center. Nothing good comes from nurturing egocentrism.

Finally, pray. Pray regularly. Nothing escapes our Lord’s providence, not even our prayers. Fr. Jacques Philippe is one of my favorite spiritual authors. Check out one of his books. They’re short, beautiful, and helpful. I’d recommend Searching for and Maintaining Peace and Interior Freedom.

How has faith guided you, not only throughout your life but in this current time of crisis?

Faith is a gift.; it’s not something that we can create for ourselves. To question the purpose of life is a cliche and it’s also a question that has already been answered. We are created with an intellect and a will, with the ability to know and to love. In this we image God. And though we can know and love the things of this world, ultimately, these powers ought to be directed to God- to know and to love him.

This, though, doesn’t mean life is black and white. All of us have different experiences here. I’ve been a Dominican for almost 10 years and I’d like to think that my life of faith has matured, and grown, and deepened, but who knows. What I do know is that our Lord loves us dearly, so much so that he died on the cross for us.

I once heard Christ described as “Divine Stability.” I love that image. In the chaos of the world, there is but one thing unchanging and forever. And we’re made for that. Each of us. Without exception. Growth in faith, conversion, is really about our willingness to allow our lives to revolve around God, rather than have the world revolve around me. This is particularly reassuring in such unsure times.

How has life in the Dominican House of Studies changed? Is there fear and has anyone gotten sick there?

I think I described the changes our community is experiencing here in DC already, so I won’t repeat them. Currently, no one has contracted COVID-19 in our community here. Cases are relatively low still here in DC. The District had its first COVID-19 death late last week. He was a Franciscan friar and his community is just up the street from us. I am not sure where he contracted the virus, but I do know he had some pretty serious pre-existing medical conditions.

What message would you like to relay to the Marist Running community -- your former teammates who still might be reading this, any other alums, and most importantly the current team members and their families? How would you advise them to cope with the feelings of loss (especially the seniors)?

First, know that you’re in my prayers. This is nothing new, though. I often remember the Marist Running community in my prayers and at Mass. If there are particular prayer intentions that you’d like me to remember, or Mass intentions that you’d like me to offer, feel free to be in touch.

Second, I am not sure there is much to say especially to the seniors. It’s a heartbreaking situation. I read one announcement from a different college cancelling commencement ceremonies that promised to make it up to the seniors in a different way. I find those sorts of comments to be a bit wanting. I understand the sentiment, but I’m not sure something like that can be made up. So, if you’re angry about missing your last season, graduating, etc., be angry. If you’re sad, be sad. That’s what it means to be human.

However difficult it may be now, they ought not dominate or define us. One of my favorite quotes is, “Dum spiro spero,” “While I breathe, I hope.” I think it’s incredibly appropriate for our lives now. God knows what tomorrow, or next week, or next month will look like, good things are to come, however unexpected they may be or however difficult to arrive at.

Death in the family

We know that our Marist Running family is interconnected through the years and the decades. I’ve been blessed to be part of almost every generation of the team’s existence – as a runner for four years in the mid-1980s (1982-1986) and of course as a coach for the past 29 years (1991-present). That’s hundreds of athletes, coaches, teammates run with, van rides, bus trips, Facebook posts and everything in between. It’s a lot of wonderful human beings – past, present, future. All blessings. Sadly, we are not immune to the ups and downs of life, including loss. And late last week, we lost two of our own.

Karen Mangan Carson (Class of 1997) had been battling cancer (f**kin’ cancer, always wins) for the past few years. Lately, the news had been positive. But, much like our brother Eric Bergmann last year, the encouraging news took a turn south, and quickly, and now Karen is gone. Way too soon, with a young family and a grieving Marist Running family that cannot mourn together in person right now, for obvious reasons. This era of our team – the mid-to-late 1990s into the early 2000s – is when coach Phil Kelly and I really started building a big sense of family and community. We were getting the hang of recruiting, and we were attracting like-minded men and women to join our team. Always with the goal of winning and putting out fast, championship-caliber women and men. But never forgetting that we are people first and that we should love one another and enjoy each other’s company. Karen was a big part of that group, and this classic photo of the women in the back of the van (Karen, front/left) really encapsulates what we were – and, in so many ways, what we still are. Only difference is now, the grumpy old guy behind the wheel would probably be barking at Karen and Mary and Colleen and Melissa and Jen and the others to buckle their seatbelts. We mourn Karen and we pray for comfort for her young family.

And then on Sunday we heard, via Facebook, of the sudden loss of Bill Tucker, a teammate and friend from the late 1980s. Bill was a local boy (raised in Poughkeepsie, went to Our Lady of Lourdes High School) and I remember going to his parents’ house on Wilbur Boulevard many times during and after graduation from Marist. Bill was a global citizen, moving and living all over the world over the past several decades. On Saturday, he was still writing irreverent posts on Facebook. On Sunday morning, like the rest of us expecting to wake up, he did not. His wife posted on his FB page, saying they are suspecting it was a heart attack. The details do not matter. Bill, living in Bath, England, is gone. His son, Liam, is a current Marist student. I met him last summer. Good kid, reminds me of a lot of guys on our team. We shared similar music tastes. Now his dad, our old friend, gone in the blink of an eye. As though we need a reminder that we are all day-to-day, we got a double dose over the weekend. Pray for their families.

Today is …

What day is today? My watch, my phone, my laptop … they all constantly remind me of the date and time. Yes, I get that. But with the usual rhythms of life untracked, I do have to think about it. Like, when I got out of the shower, I paused and thought, “wait, is today Wednesday? Or Thursday?” I sometimes feel this disconnect during the summer and other times when the team is not around. Talk about a rhythm to our days … when we have practices and meets to guide our calendar, there’s a certain autopilot mode we get into. We know what the day is, what it entails, where we are going, how many vans we need, meal money, etc. That’s all unhooked now. Similarly, in the summer and other breaks, I have the rhythm of my morning running group, the Hyde Park Early Birds. Mondays it’s CVS parking lot, an easy and flat 6 miles; Wednesdays is Netherwood, a hard and hilly 7 miles; Fridays is Marist, the College Hill run or some other Poughkeepsie-based run, usually 6 miles and usually some hills. We have group text reminders; our start time hovers on or around the 5:30 a.m. timeframe. Today would have been Netherwood. It is not. We are following our governor’s order for solitary exercise. No group runs. We are taking this seriously. So yeah, I had to remember that today is Wednesday, even though there was no lung-busting Netherwood run. And tomorrow is Thursday. And Friday, we will NOT be meeting at Marist. Or having a pre-meet team dinner. Or requesting meal money for the Monmouth Season Opener meet on Saturday. Which, as we all know, is not happening.

Hey, we're closed!

Apparently, this turkey didn't get the "distance learning" memo or the "social distancing" edict. Came across this picture of a turkey approaching the front door of the Hancock Center in the middle of campus last week. It'd sure be nicer to see backpack-toting students with their heads buried in their phones hurrying to class today at Hancock, instead of the image of a solitary animal wandering aimlessly toward an empty building.

The woods

For the benefit of those who are not on Facebook and not connected with my wife Heidi's very active Facebook feed (or whatever that's called), we have been spending a lot more time in the woods than normal. When I say "we" ... that would be mostly my family. I'm not a big fan of technical hiking, given my being a perpetual "falling hazard." Heidi and our younger kids have been doing more hikes than I have. Anyway, here are two pictures, one from a hike in the woods near our house (our excitable dogs joined us, Joey was still down at Stony Brook emptying out his dorm room) and the other from a rather strenuous hike at Fishkill Ridge on Saturday (too many rocks and steep descents for this old guy, oooof!). Things are a bit icy and muddy now, but we'll aim to keep getting out there.

In a side note, I received a rather depressing email from the Appalachian Trail Conservancy urging us to stay off the AT until further notice. Apparently, trailheads have been overrun with cars and some trails are jam-packed, contradicting the social distancing edict. Sheesh, even the woods are being restricted.

Being essential

We’re a few days into the state-mandated lockdown of sorts. Only essential employees can work outside the home. At Marist, we’re still “open for business” but with an extremely pared down staff. The majority of the athletics department staff – including the idiot head track coach and his otherwise erudite and loyal staff – are deemed non-essential and need to stay away from the McCann Center, the campus, really everywhere. I do not dispute this. This makes perfect sense. In fact, recent hints from some political leaders that we should ease social distancing and other restrictions might be, in my opinion, short-sighted and reckless. We need to suck it up in the short-term for more long-term benefit. I think. But, what do I know? Look, as you might be able to tell from my recent posts, I’m not thrilled about being mostly homebound. The “word” that comes to mind is “bleh” (probably not a word, but you get the idea). But hey, how I feel and what I think should be dwarfed by the greater good. Common sense dictates that.

Anyway, last week after Governor Cuomo – the nation’s governor! – came up with his decree that 100 percent of “non-essential” workers in our state should stay at home, my wife Heidi posted on Facebook: “I’m essential.” Meaning that her job was deemed exempt from the stay-at-home order. In truth, the list of “essential” work is rather lengthy, and it completely makes sense. But words matter, and being labeled as “essential” and “non-essential” can have existential impacts. I feel like what I do, while trivial to the greater good of our society as a whole, is important; to have it labeled “non-essential” kind of stings. But again, I’m a big boy. I’ll get over it. I’ll adapt. So, this morning, rather than mope around and whine about the two inches of icy snow encrusting our world up here, I drove my wife to her “essential” job over in Pleasant Valley. It felt good to get out, better to spend time with my wife on the 15-minute commute. We mostly listened to the radio and she was on her phone. But still. These abnormal times create abnormal routines.

Even as we are shut in and cooped up, we can all be “essential” in our own ways. My youngest son James watches a lot of YouTube videos on our TV in the family room downstairs, courtesy of a Firestick that we got from my nephew, who has a fancy job at Amazon out in San Francisco. One of the video “channels” we watch is called “Ascension Presents” and it features religious videos of a Catholic theme. Father Mike Schmitz is a favorite of ours and in one of his fast-talking vids he referred to the differences between our “sphere of interest” vs. our “sphere of influence.” Look, I don’t pretend to be a preacher or to even fully comprehend these Deep Thoughts, but this one resonated with me during these uncertain times. Hey, what are we all doing right now? Checking our social media feeds, checking news sites (I’ll admit, I must check the New York Times about a dozen times a day), turning on news channels to hear the latest briefings from the Important People. Our “sphere of interest” is large. We want to know what’s going on in our community, our state, our country, our world. As I was typing this, a notification just came across my laptop that the Summer Olympics would be postponed until at least the summer of 2021. You get the idea. Our “sphere of interest” is limitless – the world, even outer space. Our “sphere of influence” is a much tighter circle, one that we can control with our actions and our thoughts. As we are shut in, working on cultivating that “sphere of influence” becomes more challenging. Shoot a text, check in on someone. Make a call, check in on someone else – I think one unintended consequence of this crisis will be an increase in old-fashioned telephone calls! I hope I’m correct. Write a letter (imagine THAT). Stay connected. And when we come out of this, when it will be easier to create, cultivate and expand connections, remember that our “sphere of influence” matters far greater than our “sphere of interest.” In fact, our “sphere of interest” is mostly trivial. We are all consumers of information. Let’s all try better and harder to be curators of connection and impact and faith and love. End of sermon for now.

Today.

Today is the day we should be getting back into it. Monday after Spring Break. Chopping it up (as the kids say) in the Square Track Lobby or the Fancy New Conference Room in McCann. Checking in with everyone. Questions, questions, always questions, our days usually revolve around questions, answers and little and big decisions that need to be made, seemingly at every moment. Oh, how I’d so welcome to be pummeled with questions, annoyed with idiotic queries, overwhelmed with decisions small and large.

Stuff like: How was Spring Break? Did you train enough? Did you train well? No stupid crap on the beach, I hope? Were you able to find a track to get workouts in? Road fartleks? Is this snow (snowing here today in the mid-Hudson Valley) gonna stick on the Vassar track and impact our workout tomorrow? What event(s) you wanna do at Monmouth? Coach, am I gonna make the travel squad for Colonial? What about Bucknell? Can I go home for Easter after the meet? When do we register for fall classes? What time is practice gonna be in the fall? Are we going to the track tomorrow at 11a or 12:30p? Do you need drivers? Can we get a fourth van? Where are the starting blocks? What time does the bus leave on Saturday? How many recruits have committed for next year? Hey, I heard it’s supposed to snow again on Wednesday, will we have to go to the rail trail instead of the track?

These are the questions that should be swirling around my head. My phone should be buzzing with texts about when and where to meet. Instead? Instead. I’m brewing another coffee. At home. Flannel shirt is on, still untucked. Kids are sleeping. What’s the urgency for them to wake up? Trying to avoid reading the latest blaring headlines in the New York Times. Keeping the TV off. For now. How long are we going to be social distancing, locked away from each other? Heck man, this is just STARTING.

Funny, isn’t it? How much the world has changed. What Monday, March 23, 2020, would normally be (all those questions)? What Monday, March 23, 2020, has become (a lot more other questions, ones we never thought we’d have to pose)? Today.

Annie Gould’s virtual marathon = awesome

OK. So, races are getting canceled or postponed all over the place. In the overall scheme of this insidious pandemic, road and trail races are pretty low on the priority list. In our world, not so much. Many of our loyal alums continue to train hard for marathons and other races. Two of our favorites, Annie Gould and Brie Vess, were planning on running the same marathon in Newport, RI, that Marist Running Alums Omar Perez and Billy Posch completed with such success last April. It goes without saying that this race – like all others -- was shut down, in this case postponed until the fall.

Many races are encouraging virtual options. Go and run your 5k, half marathon and marathon on your own and report it to us. We’ll even give you race SWAG! Annie didn’t wait for her appointed race date in a month. She decided on a sunny early spring Saturday (yesterday) to run herself a marathon on the Dutchess Rail Trail, and she did a great job with it, 3:36:37, only a minute slower than her time at the NYC Marathon. Obviously, with far fewer people! But hey, Annie made the best of this crappy situation. Good for her.

Here are her amazingly consistent mile splits, from her watch:

8:41, 8:35, 8:28, 8:29, 8:23, 8:29, 8:21, 8:22, 8:14, 8:20, 8:15, 8:16, 8:12

8:16, 8:13, 8:06, 8:15, 8:08, 8:11, 8:09, 8:07, 8:09, 8:16, 8:05, 8:08, 7:51, 1:30

Pretty consistent/slight negative split, nicely done! And she was even smiling at mile 20 -- no wall for her yesterday!

For those keeping score at home, Marist Running Alum Doug Ainscow did a virtual marathon on the DRT before virtual marathons were a "thing" ... so there's that. Hey, in these troubling times, just getting out the door and walking or running is an accomplishment. 

Social distancing, circa 1977

Our most loyal blog follower and team supporter is Marty McGowan (Class of 1973). He was really digging our “social distancing” series, especially the fact that our athletes were exclusively wearing team gear. Our team is proud to rep the Foxes, and so is an old codger like Marty, who has been doing it for longer than most of you have been alive! Marty shared with me this cool (and embarrassing) picture of him in Central Park after the 1977 New York City Marathon. He entered it at the last minute when a friend couldn’t run and he ran under that friend’s name! The date was October 23, 1977. Marty’s time (yes, I looked it up) was 2:50:53 and he placed 381^st out of 3,664 in the marathon. He’s pictured here with his friend Richie Logan, who ran 2:51:04.

Here is the email Marty sent me with this photo: Old guy memories. I ran the entire NYC Marathon in 1977 wearing my Marist singlet backwards, or inside out or however you want to call it. I was so nervous putting the singlet on that I didn't realize that Marist was backwards (no one pointed it out to me either,'till the race was over). Here's a picture that my Mom took in the Central Park Sheep Meadow family reunion area of me and a friend Richie Logan. I hadn't planned on running the marathon that year. I was doing 70+ mile weeks concentrating on races up to the half marathon that summer. I think my longest run that summer was about 18 miles, and I only did that once. A week before the race a friend, Ned Hayes, who had entered the race, became too injured to run. Ned asked me if I wanted his number, so I ran as Edward J. Hayes. Simpler times back then, for sure.

Sign of the times

My daughter shared this with us on our family group text. She's a proud member of the Class of 2020, FDR High School. The Class of 2020 -- high school, college -- will forever be remembered and identified with this, whatever history will label this. Dang.

Write.

My wife Heidi saw me moping around this morning. She was getting ready to leave for work -- long story, but this crisis has actually increased her hours in a specific area of her expertise (not directly in the medical field). And there I was, coffee cup in hand, flannel shirt untucked … really, life untucked at this point. Moping. Not something I’m prone to doing. But that’s what I was doing. I’m sure I wasn’t alone, 7:30 a.m., March 19, 2020, moping. “You hanging in there?” she said, on the way out the door. “Sorta. Barely. I guess,” I mumbled. She implored me as the door shut behind her: “Write.” One word. Simple. Write. She knows I find solace in writing, that when words flow on my laptop, I’m at ease and find some peace. Stringing together words and sentences with some level of coherence (this is subject to debate and I would not argue with anyone who would refute my writing style) might be one of the few skills I have. I excel – revel, even – in low-skill tasks. Tell me to go to the deli to get a half-gallon of milk, unload groceries from the car, type in bowling scores (back when I worked at the Poughkeepsie Journal), do the laundry, maybe even mow the lawn … on and on and on, I do all of these tasks enthusiastically, jump into them with great vigor, in fact. That’s because tasks that require even a low level of manual dexterity – replacing a headlamp in my car, hanging a backboard and basketball hoop to the tree by our driveway, unclogging a sink or toilet, figuring out why the lawnmower won’t start! – send me into a mini-panic. Why? Because I stink at them!

So, Heidi tells me to write. If only it were as easy as sitting down at the laptop and banging out words, similar to walking over to the deli and getting milk and cold cuts, or walking up and down my yard pushing the mower, or doing the laundry, or going to the pharmacy to pick up prescriptions. Those tasks can be done by rote, not a lot of thought involved; added perk = I can even listen to sports talk radio or podcasts while doing some of them! That works for me. Writing comes easier to me than the manual dexterity stuff. But it’s not automatic; words don’t flow on demand. As Warren Haynes has sung, the spirit has to move me. These words, such as they are, came to me while I showered; showering in the middle of the day, for no particular reason, is another oddity of this odd time. They also came to me as I walked Sammie (one of our dogs) up and down the street. Our dogs are getting spoiled by all this attention. Frequent walks. Other humans flopping on the couch with them during the day, usually the space they occupy in solitude while we are out living our lives.

Living our lives. What’s going on here? So many of us are asking this right about now. As I have said before, we lack a roadmap for this. I know I certainly do. This is still “Spring Break” for us, a period when I usual bask in the extra time at home. Get stuff done. Maybe attend a weekday Mass. Enjoy the solitude and less frantic pace of the season, knowing that the outdoor track season is a blur of practices and recruiting and bus trips – the month of April, in particular is one nonstop blob of activity. Uh. Was. What now? What new routines must we form? Along with it all, I feel like I’m homeschooling. An hour of homework here. An hour of “recess” there – get outside and do something, I implore my school-aged children. Today is drizzly and rainy and chilly. We’ll have to get creative with recess.

Write. OK. What else. Our governor, Andrew Cuomo, has been the closest person I can find who creates a roadmap for us. I listen to him and oddly I feel better. He’s not telling us any good news, but the way he tells it to us gives us a roadmap for a highway we’ve never been on. I don’t even remember if I voted for him, but I’m proud to say he’s my governor right now. We’re all in this together? Yes and no. We’re all trying to navigate our way through this. Healthcare workers are on the frontlines; they are our heroes. Pray for them. Service workers, small business owners, restaurant and bar owners and workers … they are on the frontlines of serious economic hardship, layoffs, disruption in income, staring them in the face right now. Pray for them as well. There you go. My wife tells me to write. I write. Closing in on 800 words. Not sure exactly what I’ve said. What I’ve accomplished with these words. But when my wife tells me to do something, anything, I jump to action. She knows me best. Today, she makes me write. She makes me right. Thank you.