Last year at this time, we were cranking out Pandemic Papers interviews
with regularity and a sense of purpose. While that practice – as well as,
hopefully, the pandemic -- has kind of trickled to a halt here in the middle of
2021, we are thrilled to present today’s opus with Marist Running Alum Patrick
Brodfuehrer (Class of 2003). Brodo admittedly took a long time to respond to my
queries. A really long time! But again, who’s counting, and who cares how long
it took? I’m glad he took the time and I’m even more grateful for his continued
following of this fancy blog and our program. His eloquent and emotional final
response at the bottom of this long interview (
Note to Brodo: I don’t think Greg would be disappointed in you at ALL) really
made me take pause and realize the impact of each and every individual who has
run through our program through the years. Especially after this past year-plus
of bad outcomes and hurt feelings and frayed nerves and roster adjustments, we
are best to remember that this is a uniquely special place in our small corner
of the universe.
Brodo’s college career featured many diverse interests, which we noticed even
before he got to campus – he recalls here that we talked as much about music as
running during the recruiting process. He also admits to underwhelming
performances during his four-year career. While that may be accurate, outcomes
are not the only measure with which to judge, and Brodo added a lot to this
team during his time here. My memories of his tenure are exclusively positive.
His story about the night before his graduation day is so bizarre as to be
barely believable. I don’t recall it, but then again I would have to sift
through the fuzzy recesses of several decades to remember such shenanigans.
Rather than continuing to try to recap his interview, let’s get right at it,
while thanking Brodo for taking the time to do it and to continue to be a part
of our Marist Running universe after all these years.
Take us back.
Way back. How, when, where and why did you start running?
I loved
playing all kinds of sports growing up but the more organized they became and
the more serious kids (and their parents) began to take them, the less fun they
started to be. I still love throwing around a football/baseball/frisbee,
playing basketball, and golfing, but by the time I reached middle school those
things were way more fun to play with friends than on teams in leagues where
silly stuff like rules were enforced.
My father was
a runner most of his life. He ran track at Syracuse University and coached high
school when he was a teacher for a few years after graduation, so he suggested
I give XC a try in 7th grade. Other friends were interested too and
the middle/high school program was a successful one. It was a departure from my
professional athlete dreams, but it stuck.
Give us your
high school stats -- where did you go, when did you graduate, what were your
best events, times, fondest memories, highlights (side note: it was a long time
ago and I vaguely remember the details, definitely somewhere in Syracuse,
Corcoran?)
Correct – I
ran at Corcoran, a public city school in Syracuse (Section III). The coach,
John Hohm, was/is an institution and led his XC teams to a bunch of state
titles by the time I arrived in 1995. The program was still good but got bumped
from Class B to Class A after my freshman year. This coincided exactly when Fayetteville-Manlius
started to morph into a national-caliber XC behemoth. Even when we were state
ranked a time or two, we were frequently a distant second to them in our little
division (very much Iona vs Marist vibes).
But I enjoyed
doing it with a great group of friends, I wasn’t terrible, and l looked forward
to teaming up with the football guys for track (including an eventual
first-round NFL draft pick – he stole my dream!)
As for actual
times my brain is a bit fuzzy going back that far but I think my 1600 PR was
4:32 and I qualified for states indoor senior year in the 1000 – I think I ran
2:35.
Editor’s note: This high school race picture,
with Brodo front and center, is truly classic. Alert readers may note the
skinny kid in the Henninger singlet as Future Fox (and former school record holder)
Kirk Dornton!
How, when and
why did you choose Marist? What was the recruiting process like? I honestly
don't recall, other than I always/often targeted Section 3 recruits ...
I don’t
exactly recall the recruiting details either…but I may have connected with
Coach Chuck first. He’s a Central Square High School alum and they were rivals
of Corcoran back then. You also had a couple Section III guys running well at
Marist: Marist
Running Legend® and Pandemic
Paper® contributor Mike Melfi (from another Syracuse public city school – Henninger)
and Marist
Running Legend® Greg
Salamone (Liverpool, where my father coached for a few years in the late 70s
pre-my existence on earth). Another Henninger kid (Jamal Padgett) and Liverpool
kid (Greg’s brother Chris) from my class were considering Marist and I knew
those guys just a little bit from racing them. (Mr. Salamone had also done some
physical therapy on my back.)
I was
accepted to every school I applied to, from larger DI schools like Syracuse,
UMass, and Rutgers, to smaller ones like Hamilton College and SUNY Geneseo. The
range of interest from those schools in me running for them was none-at-all to
tepid enthusiasm. I considered Syracuse (note to younger Foxes: SU was not
always the regionally dominant/nationally prominent XC program of the last
dozen years or so) but I had already been on the campus a lot – in the Dome for
football games and basketball games and elementary school fun runs and racing
indoor States, practicing and racing indoors at Manley Field House, attending
band camps and performances, and other random stuff. I probably spent more time
there growing up than some actual 4-year SU students, so I was looking to
experience someplace else. I had some good friends going to Geneseo and
probably would have ended up there except:
--I talked with
you more about Santana and the Allman Brothers Band than about running, which struck
me as kind of an odd way to recruit but also kind of great
· --I had a
sister attending New Paltz and a good friend’s siblings there and at Vassar so
I already knew and loved the area
· --Rik Smits visited
my home and encouraged me to give Marist a shot
· --It was a short
train ride to New York City and far enough but not too far from home
· --Something
about the challenge of seeing if I could hack it running DI was stubbornly lodged
in an extremely underdeveloped part of my brain
(only one of
these reasons is false)
And
financially the kind folks at Marist were able to make it work. My father liked
that part. So, I was super excited and terrified for preseason XC in 1999 where
you were barely present due to the birth of your first child or something.
Whatever. (Hi Joey!)
What was your
major at Marist and what are some of your fondest memories from your academics
-- favorite courses, professors (I know you were a big Strudler guy!), etc.
My major was
Communications with a concentration in Creative Advertising. I’m pretty sure we
had to have a minor too but I don’t remember what mine was. My favorite courses
by far had nothing to do with my major (YaY liberal arts). They were the
Military History classes taught by Col. Johnson. The combo of history and the
Hudson Valley remain interests of mine and Col. Johnson was (and I’m sure still
is) a thoughtful and engaging professor. Not sure what “a big Strudler guy”
means but I think you are alluding to the next question. I was never in his
class because…
Wait! Didn't you
play in a BAND with Strudler? Are you still in touch with him? Do you listen to
his podcast?
Yes, I was the
drummer in a band with Dr. Keith Strudler. First it was a band called Car Parts
with another professor, Max (whose last name I don’t remember – sorry Max). One
memorable gig I played in a gorilla suit that Max had previously worn as a
younger man. Max and I didn’t exactly have similar body types. It was very,
very hot in there and I wore only my high school freshman racing shorts
underneath. Looking back on it now – gross. Max eventually departed and Keith’s
friend from college joined us. They were in a band at Cornell called The
Butlers…so this new iteration was called xbutler. Clever.
All this to
say I was more of a friend socially and professionally (really poorly paid
gigs!) that he depended on to make his band not suck than a student so it would
have been a bit awkward if I had him as a professor.
I still keep
in touch with Keith, mostly by attending the Cornell vs. Columbia men’s
basketball game every year at Columbia (I live just a few blocks away). And
some snarky texts here and there. But no, I do not listen to his podcast though
my mother is a big fan of his short sports commentaries on regional public
radio.
And now for context:
In 1999, Dr. Keith Strudler was a new professor at Marist specializing in
sports communication. He was a good collegiate runner and continued to kill it on
the local Hudson Valley racing scene. He was also the faculty rep for the
XC/track programs, whatever the hell that means. Mostly he just had too much
time on his hands to exercise and occasionally that meant running with us and
attending meets.
The HuMarists
were a big part of your world at Marist. Tell us about that time and how you
developed into the funny guy that you were (and still are?)?
Well funny is
plenty subjective but yes, your memory serves you well. I was a freshman, doing
and saying a lot of dumb and annoying things, and a junior on the team, Joe Scelia
(bless his heart) encouraged me to try out for the HuMarists (the college improv
and sketch comedy club). I’m pretty sure it was only because he was trying out
and wanted to bring someone along with him. I was a fairly naïve and obliging
kid, Joe was a cool guy, and I was raised on old Saturday Night Live shows so I
agreed to join him. I remember having different facial hair every week of
auditions and some of the cast may not have realized I was the same guy coming
back each time. Anyway, I ended up being selected and remained a member until
graduation, even being co-director my senior year.
Let's talk
about your running. My memory of you is running semi-fast 800s and 1000s on
indoor tracks, tall and lean, with a fully formed beard that defied your age.
What are some of your fondest memories and highlights of your four years as a
Running Red Fox? Have FUN with this answer and remind me of stories that I have
long since (and probably rightfully) forgotten!
I guess it’s
a running blog so I must indulge you but let’s just say my college races were so
forgettable even the internet has lost the majority of them (and really, thank
goodness). “Semi-fast” is very kind of you to say. I remember my first 8k XC
race freshman year at Lehigh. I wasn’t racing – I was surviving, just trying to
finish. That pretty much set the stage for my XC career. Highlights were
(again, fuzzy) the inaugural XC MAAC Championship at Disney in 2000. I think I
ran 27:30-ish. That was far and away the best I’d raced to that point. And I
remember my last XC race senior year at VCP – IC4As in 2002. It was the only
time I ran sub-28:00 on that course. I also think that was the only time I was
top 10 on the team (a bunch of guys must have shut it down for the season
already). Much more so I remember teams I really admired for how impressive
they were, dedicated guys without flashy high school resumes that became really
good collegiate runners because they worked so damn hard. I thought I did too
but it just never seemed to translate consistently for me. The more miles I
did, the more wore out I got. The 10k NCAA XC regional races still haunt my
nightmares.
Though
I liked XC more, I thought I had more potential on the track but that never
really panned out either. I could hang with the top mid-distance guys in
workouts but the results I hoped for didn’t follow. I broke 2:00 a handful of
times in the 800 but never in breakout fashion. This was all “accomplished”
injury-free for the most part, with just a bronchitis bout sophomore year and
mono senior year as hiccups on the path to mediocrity.
All
that official-like running bravado aside, my four years as a Running Red Fox
were a blast. Some memories:
--The range of personalities
on those teams were astounding – just a profoundly strange brew of characters. That
goes for the women’s team as well. All credit to you and Coach Phil for that,
unabashed oddballs (I mean this in the most endearing way) that seemed to recruit
likewise. Such a ceaselessly fascinating, funny group. I’ve always thought
runners and swimmers, with that many years of grinding out solitary miles of
training while your mind spins, can make you a bit loopy.
· --On my recruiting trip, I
did an overnight with previously mentioned recruit, Chris Salamone. Cool guy.
Our hosts were his older brother Greg and his roommate Chris Smith. Both princes,
great guys in their own unique way. Both not the most social of butterflies. I
remember there were video games. And I remember thinking “WTF? This is
college?” We did end up mingling later on with some other guys on the team. That
was a whole different WTF.
· --Being assigned to room freshman
year pre-season XC with a curious new teammate. I had a lot of hair. On my face.
On my head (long gone). On my body. Competitors in high school called me
“Jesus.” This guy had a shaved head. He was straightedge. Went everywhere on a child’s
BMX bike. Liked loud punk music and spoke very softly, and that was barely ever.
This was the beginning of my college experience. Immediately I was wondering what
the hell I had gotten myself into. It took some time, but I’d like to think I
became good friends with this kid – a great kid who grew into a man that worked
a very dangerous, terrifying job building atop the highest skyscrapers in the
world, including a very famous one that made him infamous when he illegally BASE
jumped off of it one night. Bit of an adrenaline junkie you could say. Legally,
I can divulge no more. (Editor’s note: Legally,
I will divulge a bit more. The referenced young man here has a name that rhymes
with “Brim Jady” … if you can figure out my clever coding there, go ahead and Google
his actual name and base jumping and see what you find …”)
· --Long Sunday morning runs freshman
year XC with senior Steve Palmer. He took his time. He liked to laugh, ask
questions, tell stories. This was all my speed. We were so slow. It drove some
other guys on the team mad. But it was a recovery day. We were recovering. And
we got in the miles. Looking back, it was probably more painful to drag along
at that pace but for a new kid to bond with a senior in that way was both weird
and wonderful.
· --A group of us on the team
did this thing where we would run mile after mile after mile just saying the names
of mostly 1980s and early 90s professional baseball players (mainly), football
players (lots but not as much as baseball), basketball players (less so but
only because there were less of them), and guys in the PGA. Even broadcasters.
This was endlessly funny. It still is. Right now. Why? I have no idea. We were
kids raised on trading cards that watched a lot of sports and our brains were
saturated with this crap. It got kicked up a notch for football and basketball
when after a name was said the challenge went out – “from?” and of course we
almost always knew where they went to college. So stupid. Now we have phones
and we don’t have to remember anything ever because we can look it up in a
matter of seconds and life is lesser for it. Trust me.
· --Every training route and
site had a name. Mostly they were boring. We changed them to be personal and obscene.
I’m sure (hope) every team every year does this. Also, very funny.
· --One year a few teammates
made t-shirts that said “Marist XC” but with a portrait of Karl Marx and some
fancy design arrangement of the text (dear reader, you figure it out). The back
said “Running Red Army.” This too was very funny, though some Marist athletic
administrators did not think so. I assumed it was because they were not sanctioned
Nike Dri-FIT and failed to adequately wick away moisture.
· --When they opened the
theme park thing for us that night at Disney after the MAAC XC Championship
awards banquet, a group of us went on the Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster® Starring
Aerosmith what seemed like hundreds of times, over and over. Not because it was
a great ride, but because there was a pre-recorded-virtual-ish-life-size video
segment with Aerosmith at the beginning of the ride that made it seem like they
were interacting with you live (this was heady stuff for 2000). We had all
their lines nailed and worked out all our responses so it really did seem like
we were having a legit back-and-forth conversation with Aerosmith. This was
also very stupid. And very, very funny.
· --Not sure this is still a
thing (God, I kind of hope not) but I moved off campus my junior year to a house
on Delafield Street. All the houses off campus had a name, like The Soccer
House, or The Football House, or other witty names like that. It helped
identify, for example, where you were going to party that evening. There were
three other friends in this house with me, none that played sports, but we did
want impressionable students to come to our house and party with us. We needed
a name. So, we christened the house the Boyzone. Cool, right? I’m not sure this
convinced anyone to actually want to come party there, but it stuck. Maybe they
liked our slogans (“Located between desire and madness”/”The boys of Boyzone
are the champagne of boys”). Senior year, my dear friend and Marist Running
Legend® Chris “Chomps” McCloskey moved into the Boyzone with me. After
we graduated, I recall learning that XC/track guys lived in the Boyzone for some
years. How many years I do not know, but I hope some students/locals/visiting
dignitaries look back on times there with fondness.
· --For whatever reason, the
millions of van miles we logged seemed to me most always accompanied by a local
radio station that played something called “modern rock.” It was contemporary,
sure, but not modern. Nor did it rock. It was nuclear fuel for an audio garbage
inferno. This music has not held up. For all the ear/mind-opening directions
music was going most everywhere else at the time, somehow this is what the default
torture setting in our vans was. This music is singed into my subconscious and definitely
made me a worse person. I’d rather have a thousand more Police vs Tears for
Fears debates with Marist Running Legend® and Pandemic Paper® contributor and fellow Syracuse
public city school alum (Henninger) Kirk Dornton than hear one second of modern
rock retch.
Tell us about
your career path since college. And what are you doing now and where, for whom,
etc.?
After graduating
I got a job at MTV/VH1 as a production assistant on horrendous television shows
(there was and still may be a network of HuMarist alums there). Living in NYC
was, and still is, awesome. And while working in production for bad TV was ok
at first, I lost interest and started to wonder if I could make the same amount
of shitty money doing something I loved, like: going to the racetrack, placing
a few bets, and drinking a beer (or two or three). After a few years I left and
took my meager savings to spend the summer of 2005 at the Saratoga Racetrack
doing exactly that as my day job. At night I wrote about it and researched the
next day’s races. And probably drank a few more beers.
It was a lot
of fun. And I ended up breaking even. Unfortunately, that also means I failed. Realistically
I never had a chance with the minimal bankroll I was working with, but I had to
do it to learn that. I also had a tiny mountain of awful writing about the
experience that I was trying to make sense of and dupe a literary agent into
seeing some promise in. Surprise – none ever fell for it. To you, Pete, and all
the Pandemic Paper® contributors and published authors out there, you have my
endless admiration. Writing is really fucking hard.
I went back to
NYC and started trying to get a job as a copywriter at an ad agency. It took a
lot of hustle and work on my own building a portfolio but eventually I landed a
gig in early 2006. Fifteen years later I’m a creative director at one of the
big bad old Madmen agencies in midtown Manhattan. It’s a stressful and
time-consuming job where you’re only as good as your next idea, but sometimes
you create something like communication art that actually makes a difference
and it’s great working with a lot of super talented and creative people.
Tell us about
your family life -- wife, kid(s), where you live, etc.
I have been
married for 10 years. I started hanging out with this wonder woman my senior
year at Marist so we’ve been together damn near half my life now. We have an
almost 2-year old son and live in the beautiful Morningside Heights
neighborhood in Manhattan. Riverside Park and the Hudson River are a block from
my door. Riverbank State Park (and its track), Morningside Park, and Central
Park are all a short jog away.
Are you still
running and/or staying in shape?
I do still
run. As for staying in shape…well I’ll stick to your plea to look at mileage by
month instead of week – I’d guess I run between 50-100 miles a month. If that
seems like a wide range, it’s because I do not track my mileage. Nor do I time
myself. I don’t need an app or a watch to constantly reinforce that I’m older
and slower. When I’m really doing well, I run every other day, but just as
often I only get out once or twice a week. Juggling my time between family and professional
commitments has never been a strength of mine so running isn’t exactly a
priority.
I still run
mainly out of vanity. One of the great joys of my life is consuming food and
drink with loved ones. Sharing a meal or meeting up at a bar to watch a game –
these are sacred events to me. I have always been able to consume vast amounts
of culinary and liquid delights at one sitting. This talent has not diminished with
age (and before you judge me a monster know that this is not my daily diet).
But my body is taking a slightly different shape as I get older. I’m still a
tall skinny guy, seemingly still blessed with a good metabolism, but now there
are these funny little soft spots, noticeable only to me (and I guess my wife?),
where there used to be flat, toned parts. I know flat and toned isn’t coming
back but I’m determined not to let funny little soft spots become fat messy
ones. So, I run to combat it best I can. And really, I need the activity to
expend energy, physically and mentally. Otherwise I will explode.
When I do
run, and because running is not the most stimulating sport in the world, I make
sure to kick my ass a bit. Every three or four times I get out is usually a
workout of some kind, be it hills or intervals on a track or some tempo
weirdness I make up as I go. It’s all effort-based. If I’m feeling good, I keep
pushing. If it really sucks, I stop. And that’s fine. I don’t need to prove to
myself or anyone else that I’m good at exercising. That’s why I never pursued
longer distances either. I’m keenly aware of my limitations and know I don’t
have the mental capacity (or actual time) to adequately train for something
like a marathon. Thankfully I’ve never really been injured and maybe my
moderate approach to running post-college is part of it (luck/genes has
probably played a big role too) but I want my body to be able to move as well as
I want it to move for a long, long time. So far, so good.
And I do still
compete. Just not very often. But it’s good motivation to run with a race goal
in mind and for me the past many years it has been the 5th Ave.
Mile. I have done and will continue to do some Turkey Trots and random 5ks and
the competitive brain always kicks in (until about two miles into the race it
starts screaming “STOP – why are you doing this to me?”) but the 5th
Ave. Mile is the one I really do look forward to. It’s a fun course and setting
and over before the anguish gets too great. Last time I ran it was 2019. I ran
4:51. Which I rationalize isn’t too bad for an older gentleman pushing 40. Once
I can no longer break 5:00 I might give it up but for now it satisfies my
illusion for speed and youth. Because that’s what I miss most. I never missed
the long miles of training but dearly missed the perception/feeling of “fast.” It’s
also usually run the morning of the first Sunday of NFL games, and I’ve been
able to goad former teammates and friends like Chomps, Marist Running Legend® Geoff
Decker, and Marist Running Legend® and Pandemic Paper® contributor Chris Camp to
join me (handsome Marist Running Legend® and Pandemic Paper® contributor Sean
Prinz even showed up in a recent edition to smoke us all). We race, complain,
then watch games (Go Bills!) and do a fair amount of that food and drink
consumption thing I hold so dear.
How has the
pandemic impacted your personal and professional life and where do you see
things going in the short- and long-term?
Personally,
the pandemic has allowed me to see much more of my son. That’s been awesome. He
was only 8 months old when I started working from home. Professionally, working
from home means my son is also always …right … there. Which can be a challenge because
babies scream and poop and stuff a lot and I’ll choose playing with him over
playing being a professional worker person every time. My wife owns her own
business so she already worked from home, and we couldn’t exactly have a
stranger come watch him or enter him into a daycare during a pandemic. So like many
others we had to juggle childcare and job stuff 24 hours a day because hectic
days and nights with our son translate to lots of late nights and early
mornings scrambling to catch up on work.
And like
others, we knew plenty of people who had COVID and a few who died from it.
Despite the horrors of it all, I’m incredibly fortunate. I get to spend lots of
time with a family I love, in a home I love, in a community I love, in a city I
love and have been employed the whole time. I still cannot fathom the
difficulties of those with young children in school. These people deserve a million
COVID-free hugs.
As for where
things are going, I suppose mostly to hell? Or maybe not. As Robert Zimmerman
once said, “the times they are a-changin.” And really, they always are. Just sometimes
we pay more attention. And there will always be people who do terrible things
to make others miserable. And there will always be people who do wonderful
things to make others feel loved and respected and human. I really really hope
these times help shape future generations to be way more of the latter.
Even though
they are an entire generation removed from you, what message can you send to
last year's and this year's seniors on all they have lost and missed out on due
to the pandemic?
I guess don’t
dwell on it too much? Easy for me to say, I know, but there is so much in our
lives out of our control. This is a big one. Everyone has a right to be upset
about it and should absolutely express those feelings. But it’s also been an
opportunity to see things and do things in a completely different way. In ways
you can control. Does missing friends and practices and races and graduation
suck? It really does. But since I’ve been encouraged to tell stories, here’s
another:
The day
before my graduation we had a party with family and friends at the Boyzone. The
backyard was kind of like a concrete Thunderdome we covered in an AstroTurf®-like
substance and put up a badminton net. During one of our epic badminton battles
that late afternoon, roommate Chomps launched one of his heated temper missiles
into a neighbor’s yard. As I had done many times before, I squeezed through an
old wooden fence to go get it. Only this time a board snapped back and an old
rusty nail punctured my upper right chest/shoulder area.
Going to the
hospital and getting a tetanus shot would have been the wise thing to do. But I
had to get to a gig that evening with xbutler at a local shithole that was then
called the Rhinecliff Hotel. With the uncertain wait times in emergency rooms,
this was not an option. At least not yet. So, I went to the gig and ended up
going to the hospital after that. Probably about midnight by the time I
arrived. Many hours later I got a shot, was patched up a bit, and went home to
sleep for maybe an hour or two before we had to be on campus for the graduation
thing. I was pretty tired. Once we sat down for the ceremony I feel asleep and
missed the entire commencement address from Client 9 then New York State
Attorney General and future disgraced New York Governor Eliot Spitzer (I’m sure
his message was profound though probably not heavy on Catholic values unless
forgiveness was a major theme). I was wholly prepared to be underwhelmed. But
not quite like that.
My point of
using graduation is an example of something somebody planned for you and told
you what to do and where to be and when (and yes, I realize there is more to
being a senior than graduation and no, I’m not trying to belittle a graduation
ceremony). The pandemic provided an opportunity take a look at events and competitions
and institutions and behaviors and relationships and EVERYTHING differently. Be
creative. Be fun. Ask yourself how you would like to do things. Then figure out
how to do it that way, preferably with people you love.
If you could
talk to the 18-year-old version of Brodo, what advice would you give to him as
he was about to embark on his college career?
I would tell
him to not let others define success for you. I ran four years of XC/track at
Marist. I wasn’t very good and could never quite figure out why. So that’s kind
of a bummer and I felt pretty crummy about it at the time. But I also ran four
years of XC/Track at Marist. And was in the HuMarists. And played in bands. And
went to class and did homework and stuff and met a lot of people along the way.
It took a lot of effort. And though I didn’t set any records or live up to what
I thought were the expectations some others had for me, I look back now and
wonder how I did all those things. I’d call it a fairly successful four years.
But I didn’t exactly feel that way when I was in it.
I'm honored
that you still read the blog and follow the program. What keeps you connected
to Marist and our team?
I do still
read the blog. You write and I love to read. Directly and indirectly, you are
the person responsible for so many of our memories. Good ones. Bad ones.
Running ones. College ones. Life ones. If you did not bring us into your Marist
running family, all of our lives would have been different – experiences and
friends and some of our own families we have made since that time. I don’t want
that connection to just be a memory so that’s why I read the blog, and not so
much for the race results, but more so to see who these new people are and what
their experiences are.
I confess my
connection to the program changed in 2014. That was the year Greg died. Greg
was a friend. Not a close friend but the kind of friend you have because you
got to know him as a teammate and have years of enjoying being in his company
and looking forward to seeing him. I would run into Greg every now and then in
NYC, especially at VCP or the Armory or some other race I attended with other
alums. He had a sharp intellect and sense of humor. He was kind and generous.
He traveled to offbeat and faraway places and that alone was always fun hearing
about. But he was also easy to just shoot the shit with. Talk nonsense that veered
into the absurd. One day he was a 35-year-old son and brother and teammate and friend
and adventurer. And then he was gone.
Shortly after
he passed, I remember attending a service for him in the Bronx, not far from
VCP. It may have been the last time I saw you. It was certainly the last time I
saw his brother Chris and the Salamone family. And it was the last time I saw
some of my teammates. It was devastating. You were shattered. Obviously. I
recall you saying we were all like your children. His passing and those words
unhinged me in a way. I didn’t mean it to, and I certainly didn’t realize it at
the time, but it changed my relationship with the program.
I still think
of Greg from time to time, especially when I am running. And I think about my
time at Marist and the people I met and the experiences I had, never more so
than for this Pandemic Paper® entry. And I guess reading the blog is my connection
comfort zone, keeping things at a safe distance. I’m sure that would disappoint
Greg. I will strive to “be better.” I suppose this is a decent first step.
