Full moon over Arkville

Mostly there is little conversation, a comfortable silence in an overly heated minivan, punctuated with my daughter’s mostly acceptable playlist, as she scrolls through her social media feeds on her phone while munching on clementines. We are in the van, heading home from swim practice on a Tuesday night in the dead of winter. She notices, a few seconds before I do. “Is that the moonlight? Look how bright it is up ahead, on the road!” Yes. A big, bright full moon on a clear winter’s night in the Catskills. We are chugging along uphill, heading east on an empty Route 28, leaving the tiny Catskills hamlet of Arkville – you could call it a “suburb of Margaretville,” if Margaretville were indeed worthy enough of having “suburbs” -- and heading back to civilization. So much about this night constitutes “normal,” and the piercing moonlight punctuates that.

A swim practice for very fit and very motivated young women and men. Warm pool on a cold night. A smattering of bored parents in the parking lot; I’m part of that cohort, but “bored” never enters my mind. I’m warm, I’m listening to a great podcast, I’ve got a new book out of the library, I’m answering an occasional text, maybe I drift off for a power nap. I’ve been here, in this scenario, dozens of times. Only the “here” was never Arkville, a journey into Delaware County through remote sections of Ulster County and through the heart of the Catskills, a drive that typically takes longer than bringing my daughter back to college. Which will be at the end of February. Also, not normal. Ah. But, for once, let’s embrace the normalcy. Swim practice. Whittling away the time on a cold, dark night in an icy parking lot. A full moon on a clear winter’s night. As we end 2020 with a goal of embracing gratitude, here’s one small thing to note on the stack of index cards in my office: For a few minutes, out there on the usually darkened Route 28, I didn’t have to flip on my high-beam lights. The regular headlights, abetted by the full moon, did the trick. The fact that we had to travel all the way to this remote outpost for precious pool time? Vintage 2020! Everything else about this random Tuesday night? The glass-half-full view is to smile and say, “hey, that was pretty normal.” Remember back to late March, April, May? “Pretty normal” would have been pretty damn good. Maybe there’s hope for more “pretty normal” in 2021. Maybe next time we notice that full moon illuminating the road, it will have been shining over a swim practice much closer to home, a more “normal” venue. The trick will be to appreciate it just as much as we did out there in the middle of nowhere, where the full moonlight pierced the darkness on a random Tuesday night, and maybe (symbolically, at least) expunged some of the darkness of an entire year.

Pandemic Papers: An interview with Zach Toner (Class of 2017)

 

He was one of the good guys, in a class filled with them. Zach Toner was part of the Class of 2017, a class that I will remember fondly (as I do almost all graduating classes) for bringing me and our program great memories, breakout performances and amazing loyalty as well. I do remember one aspect of my recruitment of Toner – the impact that Hurricane Sandy had on him and his family. I do not recall his sucky recruiting trip (which he mentions here), but in this case the outcome was all that matters: Toner came to Marist, succeeded academically and athletically (although his college running career was pockmarked with injuries, he remained a dedicated and hard-working team member with strong to solid performances when he was healthy), and remains fiercely loyal to our team, which we appreciate greatly. Like all of us, his work life has been greatly impacted by the pandemic, and he tells us about that here. We’re extremely grateful that he and members of his family remain loyal blog followers and readers. That’s really neat. Anyway, we really appreciate Toner taking the time to answer these questions as the Pandemic Papers “second series” continues today and into early 2021.   

How, when and why did you start running?

Well, I ran middle school track but I'll say my running career really started my freshman year of high school during indoor track.  I played football that fall and wanted to stay in shape.  I knew the high school coach from a summer camp that I went to/worked at where he was a director.  He told me to come out for track and I could be a great pole vaulter.  Well, much to my dismay, I never even picked up a pole; but I also never played another down of football.  I really enjoyed the camaraderie of the track team.  I also had a big improvement from winter track (5:40s mile) to spring track (4:50s mile) and I was hooked.

What are some of your fondest memories and biggest highlights from your high school running days?

We had a very good distance program at Calhoun when I started running all three seasons and my class continued that tradition.  I'll list four things that come to mind off the bat:

1. Senior year we won a letter race in cross country at the Manhattan Invite when we were ranked something like 5th going into the race

2. One of my best friends, former teammate, and current roommate Jack Curran (Lehigh dude) went 1,2 in the indoor county 2 mile back to back years

3. Running my anger out, after getting crushed by Hurricane Sandy, at the cross country state meet senior year and finishing in a big PR.

4. Running at indoor nationals in the 4x1 mile.  The four legs and our coach took the train and subway in and all four legs ran massive PRs.  Was also great because our Principal came to watch and tweeted that we finished second at nationals (we finished second in our heat* at nationals).  

I also have to mention the good times at Foundation Running Camp where I made lifelong friends and met a bunch of forever Foxes.

How, when and why did you decide on Marist? Talk about the recruiting process ...

My college search was relatively easy.  I knew I wanted to run and I knew I wanted to major in Criminal Justice.  I looked at a bunch of schools but only seriously considered 3, of which Marist was at the top.  I took an official visit which, well, sucked.  It involved me and the two other recruits watching Bryan Buttigieg (Gregg Buttergreg) study for a bio exam.  The other two recruits complained that they weren't being fed vodka shots like on their other visits, but I knew Gregg so it was all good.  I ran with the team the next day and that solidified that Marist would be a great fit.  I believe I called you while you were on vacation to commit to coming?  Best decision I ever made.

What was your major at Marist and how did it help you prepare for your current career?

I was a Criminal Justice Major with business and political science minors.  I really enjoyed the professors in the Criminal Justice program at Marist.  The thing that prepared me the most for my career, which I think has since been changed, was the major requiring two internships.  Not only did it narrow my focus on what I wanted to do with my career, but it gave me experience on my resume and in my interviews for jobs.

You have a unique and interesting job! Explain exactly what you are doing, and how has your job been affected by the pandemic?

I am a Special Investigator at the New York City Department of Investigation.  I am assigned to the Department of Social Services Inspector General Office.  We investigate criminal allegations, as well as allegations of employee misconduct, and conflicts of interest.  We also write policy recommendations to prevent fraud in the future.  There are a lot of avenues we can take with our investigations.  As an investigator, I carry out every step of the investigation from intake, to interviews and surveillance, to potential search warrants and arrests, while simultaneously looking for conflicts of interests, administrative violations, and policy recommendations.  

Covid has complicated a lot of the aspects of my job.  Before Covid, I was in the field on average twice a week doing interviews or surveillance.  Both were compromised by Covid and the shutdown.  Also, the court shutdowns have caused a massive backlog of cases, which continues to grow.  Most of our cases are non-violent which rightly get pushed behind the violent cases, so I think the backlog will have an impact on our prosecutions for a long time.  On top of all of that, all NYC employees have to take 5 unpaid furlough days due to the city's financial issues.  It's better than the alternative, but still not great.

What are some of your favorite academic memories from Marist -- favorite professors, classes, etc.?

My favorite class at Marist was actually in my political science minor, Constitutional Interpretation.  It was incredibly challenging and thought-provoking.  It wasn't a great boost to my GPA, but I enjoyed it so much that I took the follow-up to the class, Constitutional Interpretation: Civil Rights and Liberties as an elective.  Other than that, my advisor Dr. Conyers, who was also my professor in a few CJ classes, was a great mentor to me and continues to be a great asset to Marist.

Let's talk about your four years as a Running Red Fox. You and your teammates accomplished a lot during that time. What are your fondest memories of that period?

The thing that comes to mind is getting second at MAACs junior year.  Our freshman year we did not have a good MAAC meet, so it was awesome to get back to second with our grade contributing so much.  It was a tight race so finally getting word that we got second and the celebration that ensued is something I'll never forget.  Other than that, I had one of the better races of my career at Bucknell my junior year in the 5k under the lights.  Bucknell was always my favorite meet because it usually had great weather and it was a meet that Lehigh and Adelphi both attended where I had close friends on their teams.    

What have you been doing athletically since you graduated and do you plan on resuming competitive running when more races start happening again?

I still work out once or twice every day, but running has been steadily declining since college.  These days I run 2-3 miles, 2-3 times a week.  The most I've run since college is actually work related; first as a recruit in my agency's law enforcement academy and then as a physical fitness instructor in that same academy.  I'd sign up for a charity 5k or something, but don't see myself training seriously any time soon.  To answer the question I get most often, I have no interest in running a marathon any time soon.  Never say never though.

If you could talk to the 18-year-old version of yourself when you were a senior in high school, what advice or words of wisdom would you give to the young Toner?

I would tell myself not to take running so seriously.  I don't mean to put less effort into it, but when I wasn't running well, which, let's face, it was often, I would let it get to me away from practice and meets.  The good memories outweigh the bad ones as I type this today, so I would just say to enjoy it as much as possible and not take it so seriously.

As you know, last year's seniors lost the last few months of their college careers and this year's seniors are going through similar challenges. What message can you impart to them?

Last year’s seniors were the last class that I went to school with, but I know a few seniors now pretty well.  I'd just say that in the long-term the good memories will outshine the disappointments they experienced/are experiencing.  Running is a unique sport that can continue after college so I look forward to seeing some great results from them in the future.  I also look forward to hearing about their successes in other aspects of life through a, hopefully, post-pandemic paper series?    

How has the pandemic affected your professional and personal life and where do you see it going in the short- and long-term future? Will you be one of the first ones to get the vaccine?

I talked about how it has affected me professionally in an earlier question, so I'll talk personally.  My neighborhood in Brooklyn was one of the hardest hit in the city back in March when we didn't know as much as we do now.  It was definitely more nerve-wrecking back then than it is now, but I make sure to socially distance, wear masks, and wash my hands often.  I've been going to the office every other week for a few months now.  I am able to take the NYC ferry which is significantly less crowded than the subway which has been nice.  Hoping we can get back to "normal" in the late summer like the news has been saying.  I don't think I will be one of the first categories to get the vaccine because of my job if that's what you’re asking; but I will jump on the first opportunity to get it when it is available to me.

Anything else you'd like to add ...

Thanks for including me in the series!  It's been fun reading the other entries from people I know/met/heard of.  Special shout out to my Dad and Aunt Jodi who are avid blog readers to this day, even though its long since passed the time where I'm featured.

Group run: Always reppin?

 

Thanks to Brendan Zeng (left) for texting this pandemic-appropriate picture from a 13-mile run on Long Island featuring him, Aidan Sweeney and Ellie Davis. While Ellie and Sween are dressed appropriately, in a true Dumbass Nation move, Zeng is wearing an "always reppin" shirt from ... not Marist! It was a treat to receive this text, and to see the Strava dashboard lighting up with lots of team members cranking out the mileage. We woke up on Christmas morning to a true miracle -- all the snow from the previous week's storm had melted. Neat! Merry Fitness!  

Pandemic Papers: An interview with Matt Walsh (Class of 2007)

 

I hadn’t heard from him in years. Hell, NOBODY (at least, in the Marist Running orbit) had heard from Matt Walsh in many, many years. He “fell off the grid,” as they say. Until I received a random text message from Walsh a few weeks ago. In it, he asked to be interviewed for the blog. My assumption, of course, was for Walsh to be included in the somewhat dormant Pandemic Papers series, but I wasn’t sure because he said he hadn’t read the blog in a year. Anyway. I don’t often “quote” text messages, and I hope Walsh doesn’t mind my doing so here, but this is what popped up on my phone, out of the blue, completely random, on Sunday, December 6, at 6:29 p.m.

Good evening. Then: I just turned my computer on for the first time in a year and once it finished loading, your blog was up on my screen. I tried to catch up, but it’s been so long that I don’t know where I even left off. I’m not sure how it works, or what the rules are, or if it’s considered bad form to make such a request rather than being sought after as a subject by you … but, I was wondering if perhaps you could interview me? For the blog, I mean.

What ensued were a series of long text messages back and forth. At one point, Walsh asked if “this was the interview” and I curtly replied, “No.” Loyal readers of this blog (particularly, one with the initials PVA) know that I cringe at the sight of long text messages in paragraph form with multiple, numbered or bulleted points. Sheesh. Send it to me in an email, will ya? So yeah, Walsh, no interview via text. But it got me thinking, hey, maybe this will be a great impetus to re-launch the Pandemic Papers series and carry it into 2021. Because, after all, no matter what anybody thinks or wishes, the pandemic is indeed going to carry into the early part of 2021. Like it or not. A few things about Walsh’s initial text that I find interesting: 1. This blog was the first thing to come up on his long dormant screen. I think that’s neat. 2. “I don’t know where I even left off” kind of implies that this blog is akin to a Netflix series that needs to be read in chronological order. I guess there is a modicum of truth to that, considering when we have actual “seasons of competition,” it’s kind of neat to track the progress of individuals and teams. But there are many posts that can be considered “throwaway” material – they certainly don’t rise to the level of “episodes” of a series or even a podcast (which, as we know, I like). 3. Walsh referred to “what the rules are” … which, again, made me pause and chuckle. There are no rules! Other than common sense and decency, and even that is fluid in this space. This is not an “official publication” of Marist College or anything else. No revenue is generated. Some posts get precious few views, others get hundreds. There’s a randomness to it that we kind of like. I do it to do it, and that’s it.

It’s an oversimplification to say that Walsh and I have had a complicated relationship through the years. Right from the start, when I inadvertently stiffed the then-Wantagh High School senior and his parents on their planned recruiting appointment with me at the McCann Center (I’m not proud to admit that has happened in subsequent occasions, too, with other recruits, but far less frequently now), the coach-athlete dynamic was a tortured tug-of-war for the next several years. As with everyone who has come through this program, I cared about Walsh and I still care about him. Our long texts back and forth earlier this month revealed to me that this interview might form a bit of a catharsis for him, and I’m happy to oblige. And yes, it spurred me to send out several more interview questions to more alums, so the Pandemic Papers series will indeed relaunch with this interview and go from there.

I referred to Walsh’s athletic career at Marist as a “long, strange trip,” a nod to the famous line from the Grateful Dead song Truckin’ … and it certainly was and is. If we search deep into our souls, though, all of us could probably view our life journey a long, strange trip. One interesting note about Walsh’s running career – a point of pride, actually – is how well his running career blossomed post-collegiately. In fact, ALL his best running happened after college, or most certainly, after Marist College. All the photos that accompany this post are from his post-collegiate races, which sadly are now concluded due to a career-ending leg condition that you’ll read about shortly. All the details from the photos are at the bottom of this interview. I remain clunky at blog layout, so the idea of “captions” scares me.

Hey Walsh. I’m glad you reached out, kid. Let’s try not to let years lapse between communication, OK? With me, and with your fellow Forever Foxes. They’ll be glad to read this and my guess is that they would probably welcome a random text from you as well. Trust the old man over here. Reach out to them. And thanks for spurring me out of my torpor to get this interview series going again. Some good ones in the hopper. For now, we’ll start with the long, strange story of Matthew Colin Walsh, Class of 2007.

Why did you ask me to be interviewed for the blog?

I asked to be interviewed for the blog because since 2016 I've retreated within myself after several major personal setbacks and a huge personal loss. Depression and anxiety led to me cutting off ties with most of my social contacts, leaving social media entirely, and trying to figure out my life. There's a book I've never read but whose title has stuck with me, “I've Been Down So Long It's Beginning to Look Up to Me,’’ and that feels like an apt caption for my life from January 2017 until fairly recently. I used to be very social, and I was proud to have been part of the Marist Running family far longer than my own tenure. I knew and was friendly with a good number of runners from the classes of 2004 up until around a few years after Quimes (DelaCruz) graduated (in 2013). So, because I didn't want to stay cut off from everything I once held so dear, I thought reaching out to you and putting myself out there publicly would be good for me.

How, when and why did you start running?

I started running in 7th grade which led to me running cross in 8th grade. Why? I couldn't tell you. My brother swam, so I wanted to join the swim team, so running would have been helpful to take the test to swim varsity as a middle schooler. In hindsight, had a coach that knew anything about running been around our middle school there is a chance I would have been introduced to Bill Hedgecock sooner, but since there was not I would not run cross again until my junior year.

You ran at Wantagh High School, which has a long and proud history of XC success. What are some of your best and fondest memories of that time?

I have fond memories of running in high school. I ran track as a freshman and sophomore, and broke 4:50 in the mile at the end of my sophomore year. This was when Bill Hedgecock insisted that I join his cross country team. Junior year I was 3rd man on an OK cross team, but I became very close with Sean Prinz. Sean, myself, Chris Anson and Mike Lamb would wind up winning bronze in the 4x800 that year at states. After that, I started to take running very seriously. I went to camp, I focused on my workouts and Sean taught me how to use a log book. I wound up going to states as an individual my senior year, finishing 2nd in my county class.

But all of that pales in comparison to what really humbled me and filled me with pride, and that is when I returned to coach at Wantagh in 2008 and was recognized and admired by the kids on the team. These were the kids that came up under the freshmen when I was a senior there. I felt like I was part of a culture shift where Wantagh went from having one good lead runner every year or so to being overall state contenders by the time I returned to coach. That is what I think about more than any races or medals. 

What running (and life) lessons did you learn during your time running at Wantagh?

During my time as a runner at Wantagh, I don't know if I learned anything that any other aspiring collegiate runner would learn. I don't think I was mature enough back then to learn any life lessons either. But I did develop what you might call a "complex" with my coaches, and this carried over to you. I could never really relate to Mr. Hedgecock or you in any meaningful way, and this was discouraging. When I returned to coach high school runners, I leaned that trying to get through to teenagers is insanely difficult sometimes. I had the good fortune to actually coach alongside Bill Hedgecock, and develop a truly great friendship, which led me to look back at my time under his tutelage. What did I learn? Most of my issues with my coaches stemmed from my attitude, and in hindsight this was my fault. When I realized this was right about the time you and I mended our once severely damaged relationship. The shoe being on the other foot is one way to put it. Another, I grew up a little.

When and how did you hear about Marist and what led you to attending Marist College?

My choice of Marist was simple. Sean Prinz went there. He liked it and I wanted to run with him again. Despite you standing my family and I up on my first visit, I still was sold on Marist. I also hated the college application process. I think I only applied to Marist, Binghamton and Albany and the latter two were the same application. Marist was also the only college I visited.

Your time at Marist might accurately be described as a “long, strange trip.” Would you agree or disagree with this? Try to summarize and encapsulate your time at Marist athletically (and in other areas) for us here and now?

My time at Marist was a long, strange trip. Looking back, there's no way that it would be anything but. It should be pointed out that the summer after my junior year my kidneys failed entirely, I was hospitalized for weeks, put on dialysis and lost 25 pounds. This was always going to happen. In hindsight, the symptoms were there going back to early high school that something wasn't quite right, but I appeared to be a healthy young man.

The kidneys are a very important part of training. I know there are plenty of former teammates now doctors who could explain this better, but with my kidney function being what it was my body wasn't processing its natural creatine. Meaning no matter how hard I worked, I would never improve. I also got injured and sick quite a bit more than I had been in college. My running shoes were also improperly fit (I could write an essay on that), which didn't help my stride. On top of that, with my blood slowly being poisoned over the first three years at Marist, my hormones were never regulated properly. This affected my relationships with my teammates, discouraged me as I never raced well, and when all combined negatively impacted my relationship with you. 

I did have two races I am still proud of: my sophomore year at VCP where I earned varsity for IC4As so I could run with Steve Hicks one more time, and St. John’s later that same year where I outkicked Quinn and Hopkins. I was actually a pretty good runner, but never as good as I knew I could become

After my summer in the hospital, I was welcomed back to the team but I couldn't run without literally peeing blood, so I made the decision to leave to team. I don't remember this being a difficult discussion for either of us, nor a long one. Within a week, Larry Van Wagner allowed me to walk on to the swim team and this was an entirely different experience for me. I'm not sure if he even knew I had kidney problems just weeks prior, because he never really talked to me. He never really talked to anyone, which works because you're either underwater or too tired to talk anyway. Long story short, now that my kidneys were working, I went from 135 pounds in September to close to 170 by the end of February. My body was working, but I was on a team that I never really felt at home on. I'm very proud of my MAAC championship, and doubly so for having scored points at the meet.

As for getting an education, this aspect of my life also suffered from circumstances beyond my control. I had a great relationship with my journalism professor, G. Modele Clarke, but I was hospitalized during what is normally the summer one would intern and begin navigating their career. After swimming and putting on muscle, I seriously considered joining the Navy SEALs program and even went down to a recruiter on Route 9 to sign up. This was my big plan for after college, and this fell through once they received my medical records. So, I left Marist with a degree in Journalism and no internships into a world where newspapers were folding and the 2008 election was so full of vitriol (comparatively, it would seem like Shel Silverstien compared to today) ... and then the economy crashed.

Your post-graduate career and life has taken many twists and turns -- Flagstaff, Sneaker Factory, current situation. Talk about your path as an athlete (runner) post-graduate and your status now (injury, etc.)

I was lucky enough to get a part time job at Runner's Edge in Farmingdale, NY, which taught me enough about running shoes that I was able to fix my stride. Running with the older guys from the shop, I also learned how to run slow on training runs, something unheard of during my time at Wantagh. I began to feel like a runner again, and could do so without bleeding internally. I reached out to Jut Harris for some guidance, entered the 2008 Philadelphia Marathon just to see what I was capable of, and exceeded many people's expectations (including yours, I believe) by running a 2:55. This led to me running as a grad student at Molloy College, where I began to really become the runner I had hoped to be at Marist, and finally to running at the USATF club level the following year on the Bellmore Striders. In the fall of 2010, I had the XC season I had always knew I was capable of, running 25:54 at the Mayor's Cup, a 4:23 road mile, and 15:15ish 5k on the roads. To put that in perspective, I don't think I ever broke 28 for any 8k at Marist, nor did I ever break 16:30, even on a track.

This revival in my running, combined with my former athlete Quimes choosing Marist and probably describing a very different Matt Walsh than the one you had known, was the first step in our reconciliation. I am very happy about this, to this day.

I did all of this while working in what's called “run retail,’’ and I had hoped to work my way from there into one of the major running shoe brands on the corporate side. After a few years, I felt stagnant on Long Island and decided to move out west with Adam Vess to train at altitude in Flagstaff, Arizona. My thinking here was two-fold: 1.) I had never really committed to running, and I still felt like I was robbed of my college running development due to medical issues. I had just run a negative split 10 mile race in 52 minutes, closing my last 8k faster than any race I had run at Marist, and I did that with little training beforehand. If I could string together 10 5:20 miles, perhaps with altitude and great training partners the Olympic Trial standard of 2:15 or 2:18 wasn't that unthinkable, and 2.) If that didn't work out, then meeting the luminaries of the sport may help me with my aspiration to work my way into the corporate side of the running shoe business.

Things never really clicked for me in Flagstaff, running wise, and a big part of that was I no longer had the support system that I had taken for granted on Long Island. I had been part of a community, a big part, and that helped my running just as much as the actual training did. I did get to live with, train with, and spend time with Olympic level athletes. I had Bernard Lagat over my apartment for dinner, I went quail hunting with Ryan Hall, etc. To be able to train effectively in a new place, I needed more stability ...and stability I did not have. I do not regret the time I spent there, and was lucky enough to be featured in Runner's World because of it. (https://www.runnersworld.com/races-places/a20786680/they-might-be-ryans-talented-young-runners-look-to-prove-themselves/)

From there, I accepted an offer to move to New Jersey to manage the Basking Ridge location of the Sneaker Factory Running Center, a New Jersey staple for running shoes since 1978. I was promoted to purchasing manager, and lived with the guys from the NJ/NY track club. For years I was surrounded by the best runners in the country, and I learned a lot from them as well. They were my close friends and co-workers. Leading up to the 2016 Olympics, they moved operations from Clinton, NJ to Rye, NY, so I was now running the store without as much help and I did not get along well with the owner. After three years, I left the running business in January of 2017.

At almost this exact point in time, my left leg basically stopped working. My quad muscles are almost always numb to the touch. It's a nerve issue called meralgia paresthetica. So, I lost my job and what I identified as in the matter of a month or so, compounded by an illness in the family. This wasn't easy to cope with, and it's something I still struggle with.

Tell us what you are doing now -- and how this unintended path has led you to (I think?) better personal fulfillment?

I tried for a while to find hobbies to fill this gap, and got into making stuff. First, I replaced the brakes on my car, then I built a coffee table (which I still use), and found that I really enjoy fixing things. I had worked as a handyman to get by in Flagstaff, and I enjoyed it, so I applied for a similar job in New Jersey. I make maybe half of what I had been making before, but I come home much happier and fulfilled. It's sort of like “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance,’’ except I do plumbing, electric, carpentry, HVAC, and anything else that needs doing. Eventually I would like to have this lead into something a bit more lucrative or at least financially secure, but working with my hands allows me to use the puzzle solving part of my brain and I enjoy that it's physical work, too. I test very well, both on the SATs and the LSATs, but I'm not a very good student. I have trouble staying still. My adventures over the past years helped show me that.

What lessons can you say you learned from your time at Marist and what wisdom or messages could you impart on our current (or future) athletes to our program?

When the kids I used to coach graduated and went to college, I would tell them that the one thing they can do to really help their running is to effectively run hungover. That sounds ridiculous, but there were many times I was visiting Marist during my Molloy tenure when I would wake up and run Tower by myself. Sure, as a coach, you'd prefer teetotalers and a dry season staying dry, but that is practical advice that has helped me. You learn to push yourself through different sorts of pain, you reinforce your commitment to the sport, and if you run long enough you should feel better by the end of the run. 

As for anyone trying to pursue running post-collegiate, my advice would be to try and find a community. Not just a team, but a community of runners which includes people faster than you and slower than you. You always want someone faster than you to train with, and you always want someone slower than you to recover with. Recovery is just as important as the workout ... if you don't recover, you are not allowing your body to really get the most from that workout.

Also, become a student of the sport. Kenny Moore wrote a fantastic book called "Best Efforts," and if you really want some interesting stories I would check it out. 

And finally, listen to your coach. Sure, other programs might be successful doing different things, but they might not fit into your program. I get it - the temptation is great. But, the worst thing you can do is to try and piecemeal onto your coaches plans. They're the coach and they are there to help you. If the program isn't working for you, either have a discussion or change programs if you have to. Us Wantagh kids used to have a reputation for being argumentative and stubborn. I'd like to make it clear that I've learned better.

Anything else you’d like to add …

A point that I wanted to convey in my answers to you was that, through our relationship and your strong support of the alumni team, I was able to find success and rediscover my passion after graduation. I know my path hasn't been traditional, but I'm thankful for it. I've been part of many teams: Wantagh, Marist, Molloy, Bellmore Striders, Runner's Edge, Hedge's Harriers, Run Flagstaff...and while you personally may not have coached me to some of my best times, but you were an important part and almost always one of the first I would share a great race result with. In fact, you're the only coach I am still in touch with.

Photo caption information:

--The one with the blue singlet was my last competitive race, at the 2015 Hoka Long Island Mile. I ran in the same heat as Tim Keegan, with no training. Some spike nerd trivia, those are indeed original Michael Johnsons circa 1998 on my feet. I didn't break 5, but I closed my last 800 in under 2:30.

--The one with the long hair was a 4k cross race that I ran during my peak PR year of 2010. That was around a 15:20 pace on a hilly course, running pole to pole by myself. I went out in 4:47 for the first mile. 

--The one in the Runner's Edge singlet was from the Bayport-Bluepoint Run to the Brewery where I finished 2nd to Conor (Shelley). I felt so incredibly effortless in the second half of that race, and to do so in a race that I hadn't planned on racing and went out in somewhere close to 28 minutes for the first half, made me think that if I really, really trained hard and focused on longer distances, I could be something of a Dick Beardsley. Not as fast. But the same blue collar, out of nowhere ethos. I believe I was in Flagstaff 6 or 8 months later.

--The final picture is from a road 5k in 2010, where I came in 2nd to Chris Mammone, an Iona graduate and one of the best training partners I've had the pleasure to share morning runs and workouts with. I finished in a PR of 15:33 on a hilly course, faster than my track PR of 15:48.

Anyway, thank you for letting me do this. It was nice to reconnect to my own memories.

 

Social distance walks

One thing I think I neglected to mention in my gratitude post of a few weeks ago, regarding things to be grateful for in this troubled year of 2020, and that is this: Social distance walks. Have I mentioned this on the blog? I honestly cannot recall, so if this is repeat information, strike it up to decaying memory of a guy with constantly recurring thoughts. Anyway, one nice tradition that has blossomed out of this pandemic is the concept of social distance walks. When current athletes and/or alums of the program have visited, we have resisted (as in, outright barred) gathering with them inside our house. Heidi wouldn’t approve, because of the endless clutter (not that anyone in my Marist life CARES about that). Neither of us approve of the idea of extended indoor gatherings in the Age of Covid. And so, we either hang out in the yard (now covered with more than a foot of snow, so not so much of THAT anymore?) or more frequently, we go for walks. 

I love walking. I identify more as a walker than a runner or jogger now, although I still cherish morning jogs with my friends (anyone who follows me on Strava knows this, a few times a week, anyway). But the bulk of my “training” (and really, folks, it’s not “training” in the traditional sense, but rather just consistent forward movement) consists of walking. Some of my social distance walks are actually scheduled with regular participants (you know who you are, and I look forward to the next one!). Most of them are loops from my house. Occasionally, I’ll be bold and venture out to Farm Lane or the Dutchess Rail Trail (again, not now, as both are snow covered and neither is plowed or maintained in the winter months). With my ancient Garmin watch, I’m actually keeping track of the distance of these walks. Nothing prodigious, but it all adds up at the end of the week, month, year. More than numbers in a log book or on Garmin connect, these walks keep us connected in a time of disconnection. Other than those blessed few weeks in which we “practiced” with the team in September and October, the bulk of my time has been spent at home, where my “connections” are as much or more with dogs than they are with humans. I miss my people, and the social distance walks help to put a band-aid on the big gaping wound of this pandemic-induced social isolation from my Marist coaching life. Zoom is great; texting is decent; walking is the best. The winter will test the mettle of this new trend, but we’ll aim to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Bundle up, come say hi to the excitable, barking dogs and let’s walk.

Runner of the decade: Graham Strzelecki

Congrats to current senior and cross country team captain Graham Strzelecki (badass picture above in his high school singlet) for being named Runner of the Decade for his high school cross country team in Maryland (Catonsville) in this Baltimore Sun article. Graham had the fastest time of the decade for his high school team at their state meet. Graham has made himself into a spectacular runner here at Marist, culminating with a strong finish to his junior year cross country season and an even stronger finish earlier this year (seems like 10 years ago) with his monster PR at the IC4A Championships, vaulting him to seventh all-time on our school's 5,000-meter list (14:34.13). A well-deserved honor for a great young man. We look forward to Graham wearing a Marist singlet once again sometime in 2021. 
 

Darkness on the edge of town

These are the shortest days of the calendar year – darkness envelops our world, creeping in on both sides of our days. It happens every year, and yet we (well, mostly me) talk about it with a freshness and uniqueness like it’s something new. We are almost at the nadir of it – after the winter solstice, slowly and steadily we gain more daylight again, although it’s imperceptible for many weeks. A deep snow pack adds to the winter feel. Here in Hyde Park, we got about 15-16 inches, I think, with this first powerful storm of the winter season. After hours or arduous shoveling (no snow blower here), the lower back and leg soreness that greeted me this morning (and rendered me guiltless for skipping the usual Friday morning jog) is a stark reminder of my age and my lack of strength training fitness. Gotta get back to doing those pushups! Anyway, remember the Pandemic Papers interview series? Well, a “second wave” of interviews is in the works. It will not be as long and consistent as the first wave, but it will be back soon. It all started with a request from a long-lost alum, who “fell of the grid” (as they say) for a few years but has since resurfaced, requesting to be interviewed. Happy to oblige! If anyone else would like to be included in this series, I’d be honored to email you some questions. Shoot me an email (runhed246@hotmail.com) or a text (845 309 3640) and we’ll get on it. As we enter the New Dark Ages of early winter, with a Darkness on the Edge of Town, hopefully these Pandemic Papers words will elicit fond memories, smiles and bring brightness and hope to us all. Merry Fitness!

Book review: Brian Townsend's "Sessions"

The name of the book is “Sessions.” It’s the debut novel by Brian Townsend. I urge you to buy it. There. How’s THAT for a book review? Let me say it again: Buy this book. You’ll read it, quickly, and you’ll want to re-read it after you read it the first time. It’s THAT good. Listen. I’m not a book reviewer. I read a lot of books, but rarely do I review them. Allow me to stray into this territory for this post. Obviously, I’m biased. We’re all biased on this one. Brian’s one of our OWN. A 2012 alum of our cross country and track program, Brian is a Forever Fox. If you’re a parent, and your child has tried anything creative for the first time, you get excited. You get proud. How many “concerts” have we attended at varying stages of our kids’ elementary school years, listening to a discordant “Hot Cross Buns” for the hundredth time. It might as well be the London Symphony Orchestra, because it’s your kid and you’re beaming with pride.

Same concept applies here. Only this ain’t no “Hot Cross Buns.” This is a legit novel, with an incredibly complex, emotional and addicting story line. You know the book reviewer’s cliché, “I couldn’t put it down,” right? Well, that was literally the case with this book. Brian was nice enough to mail me an autographed copy of the book (it will be a cherished keepsake on my cluttered bookshelf for the rest of my life). I received it on Friday afternoon. On Friday evening, I started reading it, with the idea that “I don’t read fiction” but I’ll give it a try. Because it’s Brian’s book. I have three non-fiction books on my nightstand, one I’m almost done with, two more I’m eager to start or continue where I left off. Did I mention I love to read? Did I mention I only read non-fiction? So yeah. Friday night, I start reading it. I’m intrigued. I didn’t fall asleep while reading it (rare for me). Side note: I’m a slow reader, mostly because I fall asleep after several minutes and, at most, 10 pages. Since I often read boring (to others) non-fiction books, this means it takes weeks – sometimes months – for me to complete a book. What’s the difference; who’s keeping score? Most of my books, I take out of the public library anyway, and renew them as often as allowed. It took me almost the entire indoor track season (bus rides, hotel rooms, at home in bed) to get through an outstanding book about the impeachment of Andrew Johnson (“The Impeachers,’’ by Brenda Wineapple … highly recommend). What’s my point with this side note? OK. I started reading Brian’s book on Friday night. On Saturday, I continued reading it, really getting into it during my daughter’s hour-long swim session up in Kingston. Saturday night, I was sucked in even more. Sunday morning, I literally couldn’t put it down, until I finished it at around 9:30 a.m. This is so highly unusual for me.

This book is that good. It weaves several different stories and narratives, and they don’t come together until the very end of the book. Again, I’m not a fiction guy. Maybe this is standard formula for novels, but how would I know this? I was completely and totally sucked in to the dialog, the characters, the scenes. The mental imagery I have of the scenes and the characters is so crystal clear. I couldn’t stop thinking about these characters – out on my walk, while running errands this afternoon, even in my dreams last night (that almost never happens). They are fully formed in my mind. I read non-fiction; I “write” (if you can call it that) real stuff. I’m in awe of anyone that can write novels, poetry, anything that involves heaping helpings of creativity. I didn’t know Brian had this in him. I was barely aware of this project. Man, the kid (well, he’s not a kid, but you know how it is when you’re an older coach), this kid, he can write. He knocked it out of the park on his first at-bat as an author. So proud of him, and I hope he has great success with the promotion and sales on this novel. “Sessions,” by Brian Townsend. Go get a copy today, or buy it for someone on your holiday gift guide who likes to read. It’ll be worth every penny. Neat!

Cognitive dissonance

About 40 years ago, back in high school in New Jersey, I used to play the trumpet. I was in the marching band (that was actually FUN) and I had orchestra practice several times per week (most definitely NOT fun). I sucked at playing the trumpet, mostly because I never practiced. Our band leader/music teacher was a perfectionist (I would think this would be a universal experience among those serious about music education), and as such I was an absolute thorn in his side. Because I sucked at playing the trumpet, the noises emanating from my horn generally were discordant and just plain awful. During band practice, I recall this poor guy up at the podium, grimacing and slamming his directing stick (whatever it’s called) on the stand, looking like a petulant kid forced to eat disgusting vegetables, and he would say: “Ugh. Stop! The dissonance!” Of course, this sort of vitriol was directed at morons like me in the third row of trumpets, the guys who couldn’t remember to play B-flat or F-sharp, while the hotshots in the first row were tooting to perfection. This creates cacophony, discord … dissonance.

That word. Dissonance. Been thinking a lot about it these days. There’s a fancy psychological term called “cognitive dissonance” and I’ve been thinking a lot about THAT these days too. It’s a term that gets bandied about a lot on the boring podcasts that I listen to when I’m out for long walks. Hillman, if you are reading this, feel free to fact check me on this, but cognitive dissonance happens when you believe something to be true but the world around you conspires to prove you wrong. It’s like 2 + 2 = 4; you know it’s true, but there’s evidence out there that maybe it’s not. You get confused. You get stressed. Your mind is saying WTF over and over. The proverbial trumpets in your head are playing jumbled notes. Cognitive dissonance. Did I get that right, Dan?

I woke up this morning to a text from Czop: “Vaccine injections preparing to be administered early next week. Is this the beginning of the end of the pandemic?” The beginning of the end. Vaccines will save us. And yet, we have 9/11 and Pearl Harbor happening every friggin DAY in this country – 3,000ish people dying daily from this virus, nearly a quarter-million new infections a day. It’s raging out of control, the worst that it has been since this thing started in this country nine months ago. Warnings of a “long, dark winter” from smart scientists. And the vaccine is going to be in Americans’ arms next week. The beginning of the end. Like talking about going to the beach to work on your tan today, while you’re preparing to shovel out from a nor’easter next week. I’m not even sure that’s a good analogy. The pandemic is going to end soon! But right now, droves of people are getting infected, more people are dying than ever before. The band’s out of tune. Cognitive dissonance. How do we wrap our brains around this?

Meanwhile, on various Zoom calls this week, there’s planning, planning and more planning for college athletics. Our basketball teams have started their seasons. We are in deep discussions about a winter cross country season, with “regular season” meets in February and a conference championship meet on March 5. It seems to be happening. And yet … The idea of 100-plus athletes gathering out at a freezing cold starting line for a winter cross country championship, while I think twice about clustering errands outside the house with the spread of the virus always on our minds, this creates cognitive dissonance. Coaches asking about non-league games, scrimmages, trips South on big buses … while states are closing restaurants, gyms, nail salons, and funeral homes and ICUs are bulging at the seams in places like El Paso … this creates cognitive dissonance. Yes, Czop is right: The beginning of the end is almost here. But we have a long, dark path to navigate, while we try to carve a path of normalcy at the same time. “Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans,” John Lennon once famously said. Where are we going right now? I wish the solutions were as simple as pressing the correct valves on the trumpet, or just quitting band altogether (which I finally, mercifully, did in 11th grade). For now, we have cognitive dissonance.

Begs at Daytona

 

Junior long sprinter/mid distance runner Pat Beglane (and his dad, Brian Beglane) took part in the Challenge Daytona 5km race at the Daytona International Speedway last weekend. How cool is THAT? The event is huge, with triathlon, duathlon and just plain old running events over a 3-day period, Friday through Sunday, in and around the world famous speedway. Begs was fourth overall in 18:22 and his 61-year-old dad ran a very impressive 24:53. Begs is originally from Long Island but his family moved to Orlando last year. Neat.

These next few minutes

Earlier this week, there were posts about a nice team group run on Long Island (with smiling faces in a picture), followed by a sobering assessment of the next few months of this pandemic (no smiling faces, just links to long, wordy New York Times article). Here we are at the end of the week in which the pandemic has raged beyond belief and in some cases beyond control, in terms of confirmed positive cases and fatalities. The sheer scope of this thing is still difficult for our brains to fathom. We’re in the teeth of it. I guess perspective comes after the fact.

That group photo from last week’s run? A team member not pictured in that photo started having Covid symptoms the next day and eventually tested positive. He was quite ill for a few days, and is doing better now. None of the guys in the photo was wearing masks nor following social distance guidelines. Am I judging? Perhaps I should look in the mirror, or more specifically this post-run group photo from Friday’s run through the early-morning darkness in Poughkeepsie. No masks, no social distance. There’s a guy from our group missing from the photo. We ran together on Monday. On Tuesday night, as the group text lit up for planning of the Wednesday run, he said he was feeling like crap. He’s doing better now, awaiting a Covid result for him and his wife. After Friday’s run, the guy standing to my right, far less than 6 feet apart, texted me that his wife woke up feeling terrible – fever, headache, body aches. A rapid test later in the afternoon came back negative.

What’s my point? Actually, I’m not really sure. No conclusions to reach. Feel free to assess blame, point fingers at our lack of protocol (although, in fairness, DocDog -- a local runner who is practices family medicine -- has told us that risk of transmission is extremely low outdoors, he doesn’t run with a mask or a gaiter, but he does try to maintain physical distancing) and shame us for group running during this scary spike in the pandemic. You may be right. OK, well, maybe here’s my point: In the previous post, I talked about how these next few months are going to be really difficult, really bad. Now that were a few days into the first week of “these next few months,” I guess the realization is we have to manage these next few days, next few hours, next few minutes. Be smart. Maybe, even, smarter than me (a low bar of achievability, to be sure!). Now’s not the time for pandemic fatigue. More than being smart, be vigilant. Stay outside, where the risk is lower? Don’t let your guard – or your mask or gaiter – down.

Rafer Johnson

Rafer Johnson died earlier this week. The fact that many of you reading this immediately are thinking, “Who was Rafer Johnson?” saddens me for two reasons: 1. As Terry Horton pointed out in a text, “it’s a little scary to see so many of the athletes of my era passing on.” Translation: We’re getting old. And, as I pointed on in a reply, Terry’s got a head-start on me in the “getting old” part, although he looks 20 years younger than the calendar says he is. But yeah. Heroes and icons from our youth passing on; Rafer Johnson was actually “before my time,” but still …. 2. Many of you reading this probably never heard of Rafer Johnson, which probably has something to do with #1, but more to do with the fact that he lived a good and humble life, which is ironic as heck.

Johnson won the decathlon at the Rome Olympics in 1960 in a stirring battle with his friend and UCLA teammate C.K. Yang. It came down to the 1,500-meter run, the last event of the two-day competition. The two supreme athletes shared the same coach, who gave his athletes disparate race plans. Because the decathlon is a “points” event, it’s always confusing to watch the last event and realize that the greatest athlete in the field may not be close to the lead in that race. Johnson willed himself to a strong 1,500, finishing 2 seconds behind his friend. They collapsed in each other’s arms afterward in one of the most iconic moments in Olympic history. In fact, those Rome Olympics were iconic is so many ways. I highly recommend David Maraniss’ book, “Rome 1960” on this. Among the many great moments in Rome, it was the introduction to the world of a young boxer named Cassius Clay (many of you may know him as Muhammad Ali) as well as Ethiopian Abebe Bikila winning the marathon, running the race barefoot because his racing shoes were too tight and causing him blisters. Anyway, Maraniss brought up an interesting point about Johnson in an NPR interview I heard the other night. Rafer Johnson does not have the name recognition of, say, Bruce Jenner (another decathlon champion in the Olympics, 1976). Johnson lived in the public eye – back in the 1960s, he was famously known for running down and subduing Robert F. Kennedy’s assassin, he had an acting career, and he lit the Olympic torch at the 1984 Games in Los Angeles. But he did not live a tabloid existence in the public eye. He lived a good, noble, low-key life, a life so many of us strive to live. Oftentimes, especially these days, such behavior does not garner the headlines, the notoriety, the fame. So, if you never heard of Rafer Johnson, please take a few moments to research him, learn about him, fact-check my post and maybe even read Maraniss’ outstanding book. He was one of America’s greatest athletes that too few knew about.

These next few months

His name is Donald G. McNeil Jr. Call him Donald, and take him seriously. Very seriously. He is a journalist for the New York Times. From the very beginning of this pandemic, he has been the voice of reason, the voice of rock-solid information, a lens into our present and a glimpse into our future. His writing has been crystal clear and sobering. His words, during his numerous appearances on the Times’ podcast “The Daily” with Michael Barbaro, have been straightforward, enlightening, and yes, sobering. There’s so much noise out there. Ignore most of it and read what this guy writes, listen to what this guy says. He’s been covering diseases and plagues for much of his storied journalism career. It’s like his entire professional career prepared him for coverage of this pandemic, and his written and verbal words need to be read and heard. No, I don’t know him. No, I have no “skin in the game,” as they say. Loyal readers of this blog know that I value good, well-reported, as they say now, "curated" journalism. That’s why I’m writing about him and I urge you to read his latest, long article in the New York Times (linked here).

The first few times I heard McNeil’s appearance on The Daily, almost always while out on a solitary walk in the cold of early spring, I was blown away by the detailed nature of his reporting, as well as the matter-of-fact way he delineated what was happening and what was about to happen. I heard from him things that I heard nowhere else. His information is rock solid, his predictions usually spot-on, his certainty in his information almost bordering on arrogant. Again and again, though, I turned to him for information, advice, hope. Because he is so down-the-line objective, “hope” was rarely something he offered willingly or freely, even in small doses. But lately, McNeil’s tone has changed and hope has emerged – like the first time you notice the increasing length of a spring day. His tone has changed because the news has changed. The rapid development of successful vaccine candidates has led McNeil to believe the end is in sight, the light is at the end of this long, dark tunnel.

Ah, but this tunnel has a few more months to go. In this most recent piece in the Times, as usual impeccably reported and written, McNeil tells us just this. The next few months. They could be really bad. Yes, he assesses blame, casts judgment on decisions made and so many decisions not made that should have been, by our leaders – many of them arrogant, ignorant and feckless in the face of a pandemic. You don’t have to agree with his assessments, with his judgments of leaders you may admire. But you would do well to heed what he has to say. The next few months. A long, dark winter, the likes of which we have never experienced and certainly want no part of, but we have no choice. Hunker down, physically and mentally. Try to stay safe and out of harm’s way. But know that once we emerge on the other side, when the hours of daylight get longer and the days get warmer and the vaccine is more widely distributed, this long nightmare will be closer to its conclusion. Because Donald says it is so.