Spots of time

Below is an open letter that I will share with alumni and friends who will gather on Friday and Saturday to mourn one of our own, Eric Bergmann (Class of 1997), who lost his battle to melanoma last week at the too-soon age of 45. I share it here for many blog readers who may not have known our friend and brother. There have been many heartfelt Facebook posts remembering Eric. This is my way. Please pray for peace and comfort for Eric’s family, especially his three young children, at this time. Thank you.

To the members of the Marist Cross Country and Track Family:

The loss of our dear friend and teammate Eric Bergmann (proud Class of 1997) has been very difficult for us all to process. For those of you who were his former teammates, the thought of facing your mortality just as you are growing accustomed to the vulnerability of middle age (your 40s), is troubling and haunting. You know its more difficult to do what you used to do, but you assume you’ve got time to sort it all out. Time. Yeah. That. We’re guaranteed nothing. We are all day to day, my friends.

Life’s not fair! Eric is a guy who by all accounts took care of himself. He never stopped running and he added triathlon to his regimen in adulthood. He reveled in the fact that his oldest son, Ethan, took to the sport as he did. There is a special joy in seeing your own child garner some of the satisfaction we had as beginners all those years ago. Even after melanoma took hold, when Eric’s body allowed, he repurposed himself, had a comeback tri race last spring with the very appropriate F*ck Cancer racing shirt. But as too often happens, cancer comes roaring back and wins.

But you know what? F*ck THAT! Cancer doesn’t win. We win. In this time of great sadness, we win because of the enduring kinship and love we feel for each other in the Marist Cross Country and Track Family. Months and sometimes years go by between times that we communicate. Maybe a PM on Facebook to wish someone happy birthday. A random text. A visit to campus or elsewhere. A chance meeting in the city. Some remain connected to the sport as coaches, parents of runners (like Eric), maybe even an occasional race for ourselves here and there. But always, in the back of our minds and in the front of our hearts, we are all Forever Foxes. We all share the bond, the camaraderie, the kinship, the family vibe that was forged years ago. By me, by Phil, by Chuck, by Terry, on van rides, bus rides, in the parks and tracks and trails of the mid-Hudson Valley that we have to call home because Marist doesn’t give us one -- peeing behind a tree, high-fiving some old guy on the rail trail, thanking the grounds guy at Vassar for unlocking the gate to the track for us, getting yelled at by the National Park Service for running shirtless or parking illegally, being hounded by some deranged lunatic on the Farm Lane trail on an otherwise beautiful fall day, getting our marking cones stolen by some losers on the trail, remembering to bring bridge toll money for the vans, hills and more hills at Bowdoin Park, intervals on that piece of crap track in McCann that we sorely miss now, lifting weights in an old racquetball court or now in a party tent, the Red Baron, grocery store stops on the way to meets, K&D Deli box lunches … I could go on and on with this run-on sentence. You men and women, you get it. You loved it. You love Eric. You love each other. And we love you right back. I haven’t gotten wealthy in my 28 years as coach at Marist, far from it! But I’ve been blessed the riches of your love and friendship, from Eric as much as any of the hundreds of athletes who have come through our team, our program, our family, during that time. We will mourn him, we will miss him, we will remember him.

These are my words. They are all I’ve got, inadequate as they may be. Here, then, I share with you some powerful song lyrics – a beautiful poem, really -- from my favorite musician, Warren Haynes. After proud and loyal alum Ned Kenyon – the glue that holds us all together in this -- called me early on a Saturday morning a few weeks ago, with the news of the cancer ferociously overtaking Eric, this was the first song that popped up on the iPod mix in my car. Spots of Time. When I hear the song and read the lyrics, I think of him, I think of all of you. I never stop thinking about all of you.

With love,

Coach Pete Colaizzo

Spots of Time, by Warren Haynes

Spots of time flash before my eyes
Like ribbons of light
Helplessly I try to touch them
Before they disappear into the night

Running fearlessly as in a dream
Headlong into the wind
Cool night air, blowing through our hair
Moonlight dancing on your skin

Do you remember
How young we were or is it just me
Imagining like I always do
When we were once wild and free

Young man yearning for days gone by
Innocence once removed
Familiar feeling of a front porch swing
And a song, always soothes

Spots of time like windows appear
You can look out or in
But you can't get to the future I regret
By going through the past, my friend

Do you remember
How young we were or is it just me
Imagining like I always do
That we were once wild and free

A mother's tears, a sparrow's wing
A lover's eyes softly glistening
Memories that to me are everything
But to others maybe only ashes and dust

Do you remember
How young we were or is it just me
Imagining like I always do
When we were once wild and free