Something to say

For those of you not connected with me (or my wife Heidi) on Facebook and/or who do not live locally, you may have missed the following “announcement” that was posted about the cessation of my weekly running column in the Poughkeepsie Journal. Here is that announcement:

Dear runners of the mid-Hudson Valley: For more than 30 years, I have written a weekly column (“On The Run”) in print and online for the Poughkeepsie Journal. Each week, your stories have informed and inspired, and it has been an honor to be your messenger. The Journal has decided to discontinue the weekly running column. For the first time in decades, I sit at a keyboard without a weekly writing deadline. It is an unusual and unsettling feeling. Through this column, I have made lasting friendships and I’d like to think I have grown up as a writer. I will miss telling your stories. Thank you for reading through the years. The road goes on forever …

The end came abruptly, without much warning, in the midst of yet another round of layoffs within Gannett. Since exiting daily print journalism more than a decade ago (for those keeping score at home? … that was the summer of 2009!), I have obviously been immune from the constant shedding of layers of jobs within the industry. I have been on the outside looking in, but still as a sort-of active participant – filing my weekly running column each week. This weekly column dates way back to the mid/late 1980s (see one of my original column logos), at the nascent stages of my journalism career. Its sudden end has affected me emotionally in a far greater way than I imagined. It really became part of who I am – you know, the guy in the newspaper (or online) every Thursday. Two of our three children were born on a Thursday, and I remember how cool it seemed to me at the time that one of my articles appeared in the newspaper on their actual birth date.

Yes, much of journalistic content has drifted over to digital, including the running column, but the print version stubbornly continued to appear each week. I know for a fact that there are old(er) men and women who still would read my column in “analog” form – you know, the old hard-copy newspapers that have fallen so much out of vogue. I wish I had a way to say goodbye to these loyal readers (alas, the Journal wouldn’t allow a “farewell” column as they felt it would seem to self-serving, and perhaps they have a point). Mostly, I wish the column didn’t have to end. Admittedly, there were weeks when it was a chore to come up with an idea and/or carve out the time to write and file (send it, via email) the column each week. However, during the pandemic, my motivation and inspiration to keep the column going – and keep it fresh with stories of newer runners – was greater than ever. Through virtual races and other individual and group challenges, stories of runners I had never met and who joined the sport later in life began to sprout up each week in the column. It was fun to tell these stories. It’s always fun to tell stories, especially about the endless stream of interesting people in the local community and beyond.

I feel like I still have something to say. Well-meaning commenters on Facebook have urged me to seek a new outlet for this writing, create a blog or add to this blog, explore podcasting, or maybe even write a book. There’s an audience out there, they reason, and it’s just a matter of finding a new home for my content and for that audience. While I appreciate the thought, and I will consider whatever the Plan B might be, there still needs to be space in my mind to mourn the loss of more than 30 years of daily/weekly journalism deadlines. I will continue to write, here and elsewhere. Other doors will open, as this one closes (as many commenters have been fond of saying … and I actually think that’s neat). But still … but still, the end of this column is the end of a really long chapter of my life, one that has followed me like a shadow through the entirety of my adulthood. It will take me some time to get used to its not being there anymore.