Throughout these months of Pandemic Papers interviews, each and every one
of them has been unique, important and special – to me yes, but also, I believe,
to the subject being interviewed. There’s something cathartic about answering
questions about and/or reflecting upon your life, I guess, and so many of you
have been so able and willing to do it so well. Today’s interview with Tom
Williams (Class of 2008) is a bit unique. It’s a safe bet that almost everyone
reading this (
regular readers of the
blog, that is) have never heard of Tom and/or don’t know him. I hope, after
this interview, you will get a glimpse into a really cool guy, a special person
who I have known pretty much all of his life. Tom’s dad, Matt, was and is a
good and dear friend. We have recently reconnected after way too much time of
not seeing each other, and that has been a blessing. Another blessing: When I attempted
to restart this series by opening it up to anyone interested in being
interviewed, I got an out-of-the-blue, random request from Tom to be
interviewed. As so often happens (with him, with his dad), we lost touch.
Through grazing on social media, I was aware that Tom was living and working in
the city (NYC, that is), got married and has since moved out to Portland with
his wife. That sort of sketch has been more than filled out in this 5,000-plus
word interview.
Yeah. It’s long. It’s really long. It’s PVA-style long. Stick with it. Read
it in sections or multiple sittings if you have to. Yes, it rambles on about
past memories and past seasons and past races. But this is a lot more than a nostalgia
trip, a journey down memory lane. First of all, Tom’s not that old (mid-30s)
and God willing has a lot more life in front of him than in his rearview mirror.
But what’s really important – to me, to him and maybe to many of you about to
read this – is Tom’s sledgehammer honest assessment of his scuffles with
depression. He addresses it head-on and it kind of takes me by surprise. A lot
of the details of Tom’s story as it relates to his time at Marist, they have
been blurred by the years, the seasons, the endless parade of teams and
athletes. But some of it, the level of depression with which he coped during
that time, I flat out wasn’t aware of, to this extent at least. I’m glad he
shared it; at the same time, I feel a tinge of regret that maybe we all could
have done a little bit more for Tom during that time. “That’s the
shitty thing about depression; you don’t feel depressed, you just feel … nothing.”
These are profound words from Tom,
important words from Tom. I’m also really glad he highlights and pays homage to
his high school coaches – Arnett and Horton. Both are Hall of Fame caliber
coaches (they are actually in halls of fame, and deservedly so) who have done
so much for so many for so very, very long.
Before he was big Tom, to me he was Matt’s tagalong kid at so many road
races – little Tommy Williams. He mentioned that he always liked seeing me at
the races (he also mentioned I was a bit
younger than many of his dad’s friends, which is hilarious to think now that so
many of you reading this refer to me or think of me as “Old Man” Pete). I
liked seeing him too. He was awkward and shy. That was me back in the late
1960s in New Jersey: The youngest of four, usually overlooked and along for the
ride, awkward and shy. I’d see him shivering at these races we’d run and I’d
want to say, “It’s OK, Tommy. Look. We all grow up eventually. Even awkward and
shy kids like me.” Tom’s grown up, all right, into a thoughtful, self-aware and
successful young man. I’m so glad he reached out and shared so much of his
story, and I hope you get something out of his sharing it here. Thank you.
Let's start
here: Your father, Matt Williams, is a dear and old friend with whom I have run
many, many miles. So, I've known you since you were a kid. What influence did
your dad have on you in terms of your beginnings in the sport and when did you
start running?
My dad was the whole reason I started running. He was a good runner all through high school and college. He later became an avid road runner and I have many memories of him bringing home trophies when I was a kid. It made a big impression on me.
He was also president of the local road runners club and was responsible for putting on the summer track series. So, I grew up around running and runners. From before I could remember, I would compete in the summer track series. I wasn’t good – sprints were never my thing, even at the age of 5 – but I liked to compete. As soon as I was old enough, I “moved up in distance” to the mile and later the 5k, where I was actually pretty good for a kid.
That said, I never really enjoyed running or races, especially when younger. I enjoyed beating other people and being good at something. I had pretty low self-esteem growing up – I stuttered and was shy. I didn’t have many friends. I was picked on and bullied a lot.
I loved sports but I didn’t have a lot of athletic ability. But running was a sport I could be good at without “talent.” I just had to work harder (or run a longer distance) than others were willing to. It gave me something I could say that I was good at. From a very young age (like elementary school), it became a big part of my identity. I counted the days until I was old enough to join my middle school cross country team.
I wasn’t good at first – I’d never trained before – but I outworked pretty much everyone else and quickly became one of the team’s best distance runners.
Pulling on that same thread, when you were a youngster, your dad was president of the Mid-Hudson Road Runners Club, very active in the local running scene and ran countless races near and far. I vividly recall you being a kid and helping out your dad at the Midnight Run on New Year's Eve at the Galleria mall. What are your memories of that time as a kid, tagging along to races?
It’s fitting you mentioned those New Year’s Eve races – I was talking with my dad about them the other day. That meet was fun – it started at the stroke of midnight at the Poughkeepsie Galleria mall. It also sucked – it was usually cold and generally unpleasant to be outside for many hours at that time of year. I had to stay up till like 3 a.m. – not necessarily easy for a 9-year-old kid. One year, I remember it poured and my “job” was to stand out in this frigid rain and direct runners; a human cone that was gradually transforming into a human icicle. But I was always hanging around races because that was my dad’s social circle. I vividly remember you, Pete. You were probably a little younger than most of the other them, and you were always friendly. I was excited whenever you were going to be at a meet.
You had a strong career at Arlington High School. Tell us about that, your coaches, your experiences and your fondest memories as an Admiral?
I feel really fortunate to have gone to Arlington and run for Steve Arnett and (future Marist coach!) Terry Horton. There was such a lineage of great runners at that school – in the mid-1970s they had two guys who were both sub-4:10 miles on the same team – and that was a real inspiration. You knew what was possible, because someone who had worn the uniform you were wearing had already done it. I joined the program at a little bit of a low ebb but looking to those great runners and teams of the past was really motivating. Pushing our XC team to be better became an all-consuming obsession.
There was also a strong tradition of work that was passed down from generation to generation there. You didn’t cut corners. You worked hard every day. As someone who had already discovered I could improve and beat other people by outworking them, that was really motivating and became my identity on the team. Both Arnett and Horton are obviously super knowledgeable. It was REALLY hard to impress them because they had seen hundreds of runners better than you. I’m sure some kids were put off by it, but for me it just made me want to work harder and be accepted by them. I
was also lucky to be on some pretty solid teams at Arlington (although not as
good as what came after I left). If memory serves me, I think I ended up being
captain of our XC team my junior and senior years. I medaled at the Class A
Cross Country state meet as a senior. For track, I think I ran like 4:35 for
the 1600m and 9:39 in the 3200.
After you graduated from Arlington, you went to a school NOT named Marist. What was your experience like at your first school and what led you to transfer to Marist?
So ... here’s the thing. I always knew my collegiate running career was complicated. But I didn’t realize just how complicated until I started to answer this and the next question. So please forgive the length. Because ... it’s complicated. I started off at Binghamton. I had very solid grades in high school but only applied to three schools. I was rejected by one, waitlisted by another and accepted by Binghamton. Binghamton was my safety, but I ended up going there. I entered school as an
engineering major, but that was a big mistake. I LIKED the idea of engineering
but I didn’t have the math background for it. And in high school I was the type
who could show up to class, do the homework, not study much and get As. So,
I didn’t really know how to study. That approach was fine
for high school, but not a college engineering program. So, I fell flat on my
face. My grades were awful and I was miserable. I’d also made the
decision to red shirt my sophomore year, so I wasn’t competing or even training
much (I might have been hurt too – I can’t remember). I hated my
major, I didn’t like my school, and I was out of shape and not competing. I
wanted to change majors and transfer but it got to a point where my grades were
so bad I couldn’t. Which was an awful experience – I felt trapped.
December of my sophomore year it all came crashing down on me and I left school abruptly. It was a really traumatic experience and it left me deeply shook and depressed for six plus months. All the academic and athletic success I had in high school that had done so much to improve my self-image had disappeared almost overnight. It was a nightmare. In hindsight, it’s funny how bad it was. The week I left school abruptly (basically losing all my friends there in the process) I also got dumped and overdrew my bank account (i.e., was flat broke). In a melodramatic teenage way, I felt a bit like the biblical Job.
I went to community college for a semester to rebound and get my grades up so I could transfer back to a four-year school. I don’t remember much of that semester. I was in a total funk. Thankfully, Coach Horton was coaching at that school and a former teammate from Arlington was there too. So, I had someone train me and someone to do workouts with. Still, it was super hard and I was just really depressed. I had never really gone through something like that before, and I don’t really think I recognized I was depressed. That’s the shitty thing about depression; you don’t feel depressed, you just feel … nothing. I certainly didn’t have the tools to pull myself out of it, which is partly why I lingered in that funk for so long. I
decided I was going to major in business and my parents wanted me to stay
closer to home. I still wanted to compete for a good running program, but even
with excellent grades at community college, I had a really hard time getting
any school or program to consider me. So, Marist was an obvious choice,
especially since I’d known Coach Pete since I was a kid.
Thankfully, Pete was able to help out and I was accepted. I also started training with the team the second half of the spring semester. Having that crowd of people to run with and run after was great for me. Showing up and getting my ass kicked gave me something to work at. With my confidence just totally destroyed, finding I could improve and eventually hold my own in workouts that was something I really needed.
You came into
Marist during a strong period in our program's history. What were your Marist
years like as a runner? What were some of your highlights and fondest memories?
Did you live at home, on campus, off campus -- again, stuff I don't remember!
So, like I said, my collegiate career was complicated. I was at Marist from the fall of 2005 through the spring of 2008. BUT, I only actually competed for the team fall of 2006, spring of 2007, and a few races
fall of 2008. Because I transferred from a D1 program to a
community college back to a D1 program, I lost a year of eligibility. Or
something. There was a random NCAA rule that got me, and we didn’t find out
until *right* before the fall XC season started in 2005. Which was
heartbreaking – I was so excited to be on this new team after the awfulness of
the past year. I was running really well and then I found out I was not going
to be able to compete for a SECOND year in a row. Ugh. But
it ended up being fine. I trained with the team and raced unattached. By spring
track, I was in really good shape. I think – and my memory is a little fuzzy on
if it was this year or the next – but I think I ran 15:09 and 31:49, both at
meets at Princeton.
I lived at home and commuted to school. The 15-minute drive wasn’t bad, but it made it hard to integrate with the school and the rest of the team. Having transferred in, being ineligible to compete on the team and living off campus made me feel like an outsider. Everyone was super friendly and welcoming, but the situation was what it was. The
next fall Justin Harris and I got a place off Washington Street, which was
great. And I was eligible to complete again – finally. You can correct me if
I’m wrong, but as I remember it, that fall 2006 XC team was one of Marist’s
better, if not best, men’s teams ever at that point. I think I was in the 4-6
range for the varsity team most races.
That spring I think I was in good shape – I was aiming to get under 15 in the 5k, which was a huge goal for me. But I did something to my quad and it gradually got worse and just refused to get better. I was probably not giving it time to heal. It became a lingering thing over the summer and I wasn’t really able to train at all. I started favoring my other leg, which led to me hurting my other quad. It got to a point where I was just...slow. I couldn’t run fast. I couldn’t really run a lot of miles. And it just turned into this thing where...have you ever had the nightmare where you’re in a race and everyone is flying by you and it feels like you’re running in mud or glue or something? That basically became my reality. And that was hard. Coming into cross county my last year I was just awful. I wasn’t even close to being on the varsity team. I could barely run. I wasn’t getting any better. I didn’t really know why my legs just weren’t working any more. It became clear I wasn’t going to get better in time to contribute for my final season of XC or probably even spring track. It was really hard.
But there was a larger problem too. So much of my identity was tied up in the idea of being a good runner. A hardworking runner. Running a lot, getting better, beating faster runners, and getting good times was my sole focus in life for SO long. Literally since 7th grade up till that last year at Marist, so we’re talking what? Ten plus years? In retrospect, I don’t think wasn’t healthy to be that focused on one thing obsessively for that long. You burn yourself out mentally – I certainly did. So,
all that gave me a bit of an identity crisis and I fell into depression again.
At least this time I recognized a bit more quickly that I was depressed and
that the root cause was that my self worth and identity was closely tied to how
well I was running.
And that was a problem when I was hurt and couldn’t run fast. If being fast made me “valuable,” was I suddenly “worthless” now that I wasn’t fast? No, and I think I realized that on a deeper level after not too long. But I still needed to find new and healthier ways to derive self value that weren’t dependent on things I couldn’t control (i.e. running fast).
So, I quit the team and I stopped running.
Running was the tool with which I gave myself confidence as an insecure kid with low self-esteem. And it was really effective! But eventually, it stopped working and actually became the cause of my low self-esteem. So, I had to address the core issues and start valuing myself because I was who I was, and not because I was better at a sport than the kids who picked on me. Once I did that I was much healthier, happier and balanced.
So, my college career ended with a whimper. Everyone on the team was friendly, but I didn’t really want to be around them. It was just a reminder of that thing that I used to derive so much from, but which I couldn’t really do any more.
I didn’t really run at all for a number of years after that. I still had lingering leg issues and I was just so burned out on it after being so intense about it for so long. I never really ran for the enjoyment of running. I came to enjoy it, but I mostly ran to run good times or beat people. If I couldn’t do that then I didn’t have much desire to run.
What was your major at Marist and how has it helped you with your career? What are some of your fondest academic memories of your time at Marist -- favorite courses, professors, etc.
After being in engineering at Binghamton, I switched to my “backup” major at Marist: marketing. It was something I was (and am) much better suited for. I think marketing is a great and versatile core skill – being able to convince people to take a desired action is applicable to so many things. And it’s fun. It’s almost a game, trying to get people to do what you want them to do. Whether to buy something, believe something, advocate for something, do something. While at Marist, social media was
really starting to blossom and become a thing in society (if only we knew what
sort of Thing it would become...this was a much more innocent time). And it was
juuuust starting to be used for marketing purposes.
As someone interested in marketing, I was immediately drawn to social media because it allowed you to substitute creativity and work for a big budget. That concept is super commonplace nowadays but then it was pretty revolutionary. Back 20 years ago, if you wanted to reach millions of people, you pretty much had to have a massive marketing budget. Social changed that. Money still helps, but it’s not the only thing.
I was really into music and was hoping to work in the music industry, so I could see the potential for gaining exposure for up-and-coming artists without the support of a major record label budget.
That said, there wasn’t really a ton I learned at Marist that was applicable to the social media and digital marketing thing I wanted to get into. It was all just too new. I learned some marketing and business basics, which were probably helpful but I don’t really remember any of them.
I did have two professors who taught me how to think critically, and they were hugely important. One of them was Ambassador Kingon, who taught a class after retiring from a long career that involved stints as the US Ambassador to the EU and Reagan’s Secretary of the Cabinet. And the other – her name escapes me – but she was my capstone professor and she was a tough, no-nonsense type who actually pushed you to WORK. (Maybe too much so; the day after I gave my capstone presentation I ended up in the ER. I thought I was having a heart attack. It turns out it was pleurisy, brought on in part by all the stress…).
Tell us about your post-collegiate path -- athletically and professionally. First, athletically. Did you continue running and racing post-collegiately? Are you still running now and to what extent?
I hardly ran at all for at least 3 or 4 years after Marist.
After a while I did start running occasionally. Mostly to stay in shape. By this point I was in New York City and I lived near Prospect Park, so I had a good place to run. But it was not very serious. I’d tend to take the winters off – I’ve run enough icy workouts to never want to do that again – which didn’t really help for getting in any lasting shape.
Once we moved to Portland in 2016, I started running a bit more. It’s such a great place to run. Summers are absolutely gorgeous and the winters are mild. I’m writing this on a typical January day: a high upper 40s and a misting rain. Perfect running weather. There are a lot of fantastic trails right in the city. There’s one right near my office that I run on all the time. Once a bald eagle with a giant trout in its talons flew across my path, not more than 25 feet away. It’s like running through a nature documentary. Aside from running, I've actually gotten a bit into weight lifting. If you knew me at Marist, this is sort of funny; I hated the gym and spent as little time there as I could get away with.
A couple years ago, I was feeling out of shape and my wife wanted to start working with a personal trainer, so I tagged along and got a little bit of guidance. I found I really enjoyed it. Lifting was a bit like running –
I could push myself to try to achieve a personal best. But unlike running – where if I wanted to better myself I’d have to run 75 miles a week for a year – I could lift for an hour a few times a week and set a PR. So,
for the first time in my life, I got reasonably strong. And then the pandemic
struck and my gym closed. So, I started running more – it was the only exercise
open to me. It didn’t take too long to get my mileage up in the 30-35 miles per
week range. Which may not sound like much (and it's a fraction of what I used
to run) but it’s undoubtedly the most I’ve done since ... summer of 2007?
Most of my runs are around 7:45 pace, but I’ll sometimes push myself to see what I can do. This past spring, I did a 9-mile run where my last mile was under 6 minutes. Another run I hopped on a track mid-run, just to see what I could do a quarter in, sans training. I ran a (relatively) relaxed 68. It was cool to see I could still move at a decent clip after years of not running and no workouts. I then proceeded to run 12-minute miles the rest of the way home, because my legs had forgotten what lactic acid feels like. One
thing that’s nice: I’m not a slave to the mileage any more. If I don’t feel
like running, I don’t. After being so dedicated and committed to it for so
long, that’s nice to have. It makes the act of running itself more enjoyable to
me now.
Professionally -- my recollection is you were in NYC for a time (in the music industry?) and seemed to thoroughly enjoy your time there. What job(s) did you have down there and how did you wind up in Portland?
I was in NYC for about 7.5 years. It was great, and I loved it. It’s a great place to be when you’re younger but it’s a hard place to live forever. I started off in the music industry, but that wasn’t what I’d hoped (but I did get to do some cool things and work on some fun projects, including a #1 album). After I left music, I needed
something to pay the bills while I figured out what I wanted to do. Andrew Yang
– who you may have heard of – hired me and I worked for the company he ran. It’s been fun (and funny) to watch his unexpected rise in politics these past couple years.
Around that time, I did a lot of thinking about what I wanted to do. I loved marketing (and increasingly, writing) but I had to feel passionate about what I was working on. I eventually articulated my main passion into a mission statement: I wanted to help cities be the best possible versions of themselves. So, I went to graduate school at CUNY Hunter in Manhattan and got my masters in Urban Policy and Leadership.
After I graduated, my wife and I moved to Portland. Neither of us had much luck finding a job there while in New York, so we just packed up a car and moved. It was a pretty big and stressful leap of faith, but it worked out. We both found jobs within the first few months and within a year or two we had jobs in the fields we wanted to be in. I now work in
the public affairs department at Portland’s public transit agency. Portland
itself is a mid-sized city (I think we’re the 24th largest city in the country?)
but we have a fantastic transit system that’s actually one of the largest and
best systems in the nation. I’m our Senior Marketing Communications Strategist.
I manage things like social media, email and rider engagement initiatives, and
I create a lot of videos, website content, some print campaigns and more. I
also help the agency understand public opinion and try to act as a conduit for
rider concerns and interests to the agency’s leadership.
The past year has been pretty stressful and demanding, for obvious reasons. The service our agency provides is vital to the lives of so many people here, and with so much change, uncertainty and fear right now, my work is rarely dull and often challenging. There is a certain anxiety that comes from having such a large (and not always 100 percent friendly!) audience listening to everything you say. I’ve made mistakes that have ended up making our local papers. But I feel like the thoroughness and commitment I learned while as a distance runner is really helpful for doing this type of work. Every day feels a bit like race day, and I need to be ready to go. But all in all, I love it. It’s sort of a dream job to be able to get people excited about trains and buses, and to build support for a service that’s so important for making our city a better place.
When did you get married, do you have kids, and again what was your pathway to Portland?
My wife Sarah is a Brooklyn native who went to Manhattan College. We met in the last days of 2009 and got married in 2014. No kids as of yet. We’ll see. We did just adopt a rescue pug we named Marty McPug (his bug eyes makes him look like Marty Feldman). He’s not the typical fat little sausage you picture when you think of a pug; he’s somehow svelte and athletic. He’s a little clown and has been keeping us entertained and busy.
As far as how we ended up in Portland … after we married, we knew we didn’t want to live in New York City forever. Owning a house was important to us and the quality of life sacrifices you’d have to make to have it happen there just weren’t appealing. We did want to be in an urban area with good food and drink, lots to see and do, access to nature and good transit. Running in New York winters for decades made me hate the cold and snow with a passion, so I wanted a place with a milder climate. We did tons of research and visited a lot of places. We each had our own Top 10 list of places, but Portland was number one for both of us. So, it was a pretty easy decision.
The pandemic,
2020 ... whoa. You live in a pretty interesting place with regards to that.
Tell us in detail what it's like living in a city with so much social unrest.
How has it impacted you personally and professionally? Other than that, how do
you like living out there?
We’ve been out here almost five years and we love it. The winters are mild, wet and cozy and the summers are absolutely perfect; it basically doesn’t rain from July through September, there is no humidity and every day is perfect. It’s an incredibly beautiful place, and you’re about an hour from the coast, an hour from desert, and hour from year-around snow, and an hour from temperate rainforests. There are volcanoes and glaciers and the stunningly beautiful Columbia River Gorge; it feels almost like you’re living in a fantasy landscape in a geography textbook.
A lot of cities seem to be caught up in this rat race of trying to prove themselves to be a Big Important International City. I feel like Portland sort of doesn’t care about that. We don’t really want to be flashy, we just want to be a good place to live. The city itself is like a comfortable old sweater – not really fashionable, a bit worn but just cozy and comfortable with what it is. People care about the outdoors and quality of life. It has the feel of a smaller town but the amenities of a large city. Our neighbor Seattle feels like a smaller San Francisco but Portland feels like a bigger and better Poughkeepsie. The food is amazing and the beer excellent. People are nice. Work-life balance is a big thing. And people appreciate running – several older friends out here have shared their personal recollections of interactions with Prefontaine, which is just so cool to me.
As far as this past summer, I don’t think the media has done a particularly good job of portraying the situation here in Portland. A lot of them just swooped in and built stuff up into something that was a lot bigger and more destructive (i.e., more newsworthy) than it actually was. I think both Covid and the wildfires were more disruptive than the protests last year. And
then there were certain political leaders who intentionally sensationalized and
misportrayed what was going on too. It
was (and is) all very frustrating because I think in the end, those portrayals
will prove to be far more damaging to the city than the actual protests that
were going on.
There is no doubt that this area is facing some real challenges now. Like most places, Covid has been devastating a lot of levels. Crime and homelessness has increased sharply. Drugs are a problem for many. Businesses are closing daily. The sort of thuggish actions you saw by white supremacists at the US Capitol on January 6th have been happening out here for years. There is a lot of passion in our local politics, but not a lot of consensus. But
the portrayal you may have seen on the news is not a good representation of
this city, and it’s really unfortunate that the behavior of a couple dozen
people has been seized on by others to discredit the work others are doing to
make this city a better and fairer place for all.
Other than
the social unrest, how has the pandemic affected your life -- personally and
professionally -- and where do you see it going short- and long-term?
My wife – she’s an art director – and I have been working from home since March. That took a little bit of adjusting to, but now we love it and hope it’ll be a part of our work life permanently. It also helps that we don’t have any kids and we have plenty of space to work in our house. We actually managed to buy our first house last year, which was a strange experience in a pandemic.
My work is and has been pretty focused on Covid stuff – working to get our riders to wear masks, communicating all the safety precautions we’ve put into place, talking about the science of airflow and why transit is actually a pretty safe space right now. I’ve had to become knowledgeable in a lot of unexpected new topics over the past year.
Sarah and I have been very cautious and have tried to lead by example. We’ve only seen a few friends in-person over the past year, and always in backyards at a distance. We’re very diligent about wearing masks when near anyone else and we avoid places without good airflow. We don’t go out to restaurants. I do our grocery shopping late at night. We’ve mainly just been staying at home, cooking a lot, and watching old movies.
I don’t feel qualified to offer up any predictions. I will say that I’m hopeful that this summer will look a lot different than last. But I’m also quite pessimistic about the short term. The sheer amount of suffering we’ve already seen is sobering, and I see little reason to expect the trends to change in any meaningful way until we get a lot more people vaccinated. Please wear your damn mask and take things seriously ALL of the time. You don’t get partial credit during a pandemic.
You asked to
be interviewed for this series, which is really NEAT. What made you reach out
(again, greatly appreciated!), do you still follow our program and what are
your thoughts about your connections to Marist, our program, etc.?
I’d officially run out of excuses not to offer to do an interview?
More seriously, I’ve been enjoying reading these profiles over the past 10 months and had wanted to do one at some point. I’d never really intended to fall off the grid – sometimes life goes off in a different direction – and this seemed like a good way to reestablish some ties to the program.
I also felt like my story differs a bit from a lot of the other profiles that have been published, and I felt that some of my experiences could be helpful for other people.
I still follow the program closely, mostly through this blog. I subscribe via my RSS reader so I never miss a post.
I’m so excited to see the growth and success of the program. I think it’s so cool to see something you were a part of and contributed to in small ways get better and better. And in my opinion, they should rename the McCann Center the Colaizzo Center, effective immediately (Editor’s note: While I appreciate the sentiment, Tom, I think a more relevant and urgent task would be to rename the pool area at Marist the “Larry VanWagner Natatorium,” as a tribute to the legendary swim coach who recently announced he would be retiring at the end of this school year (June 2021).
How often do
you return home and are you still connected to some of your teammates from your
time here at Marist?
Pre-pandemic I tried to get back to the East Coast two or three times per year. Obviously, that’s not the case right now. But with my new ability to work from home, I’m hoping I can spend a few weeks working from Poughkeepsie at some point in 2021. I’m not really
connected to any teammates. Jut was actually in Portland about a year ago, and
we met up for a drink, which was great. But beyond that, I’m not really
involved with any running circles these days.
Anything else you'd like to add …
Just the importance of looking after your mental health. It’s easy to overlook.
Even though runners are mentally tough, we still need to look after our mental health. As runners, we’re accustomed to some level of pain and the best of us are good at pushing through that pain. That’s something that can work for physical ailments but not necessarily mental ones. In fact, ignoring depression only makes it harder to get out of it.
Don’t be afraid to talk about mental health. Know how to recognize the symptoms of depression and don’t hesitate to ask for help. There are resources out there for you, including at Marist. I made use of them and they were really helpful.
Minding your mental health will help you as a runner, it’ll help you with your academic work, and it’ll help you be a better and more balanced adult.
Since I doubt anyone still has my contact info, here’s my current email address: hellotomwilliams@gmail.com. I’m also active on instagram, if any one wants to say “hi” that way: instagram.com/hellotomwilliams
