Pandemic Papers: An interview with Conor Shelley (Class of 2011), Part 2

This is part 2 of 3 of the Conor Shelley/Pandemic Papers interview. As we delve into the heart of the discussion, it’s important to highlight one particular line from the many that follow: “This team has had an ongoing parade of weirdos marching through the program.” I think it’s safe to say that Conor considers himself a proud member of that cohort! His ramblings about his academic and running career are outstanding and at times laugh-out-loud funny. His “rivalry” with Rolek (especially on the back stretch of the Spackenkill track that one day) is the stuff of legend; I love them both, but man, there was friction that day! I have vivid memories of that and all of these stories. Please keep reading. Thank you.

 

What was your major at Marist and what are some of your fondest academic memories -- favorite classes, professors, etc? (heh-heh, this should be good)

 

I took a little while to figure it out, but I eventually landed on Political Science with a minor in Psychology. Considering you sent this email end-December, it is currently January 26^th (when replying), and I’m four pages (and hopefully halfway) in; this was simultaneously a perfect choice and a horrible decision. I was a natural test taker with a penchant for both distraction and an overly meticulous writing style. A decidedly qualitative major blending philosophy, history, and a shit-ton of opinions played right into my interests, but challenged my weaknesses.

 

I remember attending a seminar in the Rotunda as part of my capstone class, where a Middle East expert (and expat) basically outlined what eventually became the “Arab Spring” approximately a year later. There was a “Classical Political Theory” class taught by a since-retired professor whose texts I still read. In one class, he brought up the concept of natural vs. structural impediments within a system, asking: “What would be a natural impediment to a person becoming an orchestra conductor?” My answer: “If you were born without arms,” and the subsequent laughter from a man who had been clearly asking that question for decades remains among my crowning classroom achievements!

 

I performed better in the fall, and commonly burned out in the longer spring semester. I commonly took greater interest in electives, which are a haven for the short-attentioned. Most importantly (and foolishly), I believe I valued my learning more than I did my grades. I’ll echo prior praise of Alyssa Gates and her diligent work keeping now-generations of student-athletes on the path to academic success. 

 

One last piece I’ll take pride in, was being a member of the inaugural “Track and Field Coaching” class (your debut as an adjunct professor). I remember getting a misprinted USATF Textbook with Bible Study test questions in lieu of a shot put chapter, a lively discussion including a few students who were not on the team, and getting caught telling some teammates that I was struggling to stay awake in one particular class (I promise it was more about a lack of sleep than the subject or instructor)! A recent VDOT certification process was made much easier due to your tutelage!

 

It's funny how the mind's eye works. You had a great three-season, five-year career at Marist, and yet I think of two truly bizarre performances (15:00.00 at BU and your improbable "beat Rolek's time" 10km at Princeton). What are some of YOUR fondest memories and proudest accomplishments of your time here?

 

Trying to personally hype up my impact to the team is strangely difficult as I firmly believe I lived smack dab in the middle of a golden age for the program. I think my range would be noteworthy in most other eras that the program has experienced, but being surrounded with the likes of Girma, Griffin, Vess, etc., makes me more of a bit-player during my tenure at Marist. I spent almost my entire career within our top 5 (mostly our third guy at any given moment) in cross country, and when “on” in track could say the same for any event from 800-10k (excluding a brief and foolish foray into steeplechase). Looking through old results reminds me that any time I was put into an 800 relay leg, you almost always got a 1:59 out of me regardless of what my specialty or fitness was at the time.

 

I arrived a mid-pack recruit in a talented freshman class, who quickly took to the longer distance involved in collegiate XC. After a few early-season meets of placing within our top 3, we finally hit the historic Van Cortlandt Park 5-miler and it became apparent that this program fit my strengths. I could easily break 16:00 for 5k, en-route to a sub 26:00 five-miler. Partial credit goes towards the simple fact that we didn’t hammer EVERY SINGLE RUN (a lesson I need to relearn periodically); but most goes towards incredible mentorship (coach and peer), a change in terrain, and a great culture.

 

During indoor track that year, I took a whopping 17 seconds off my 1600 time at the Metropolitan Championships DMR at 4:15 for a win; which remains a highlight because I still have the footage on tape! The DMR team of Geist, Kippins, Bam, and Shelley took a school record 10:04.42; with a 4:13 split for myself (a later foray at the Penn Relays Championship of America proved less successful). If/when we get to Justin Harris entry, I’d love to read his take on our last race together at the Outdoor MAACs 5k. Effectively, I had given him some undue/negative feedback about his performance in the 3k steeple the day before, he got SUPER pissed and proceeded to put on a damn 5k clinic the next day.

 

Before sophomore year, I had a pretty nasty spill that resulted in a deep wound in my knee, which left me unable to effectively walk for two weeks. It was a huge setback and I spent most of cross country running myself stupid; but there were some silver linings: 1) I was able to take some personal time and started dating my now-wife, 2) I had my best personal finish at XC Regionals, and 3) I had what is likely the most consistent indoor/outdoor season of my career. 

 

The aforementioned 15:00.00 FAT result was incredibly fun and remains the most exciting indoor non-mile/800 I’ve ever run. I think it would have gotten a bit more play on the blog in the modern era, but this medium was much more informational back then and didn’t yet have its current narrative. I remember being 400 to go with the team going nuts. The line is certainly apocryphal, but you yelled something along the lines of “GIVE ME A 68 AND YOU’LL GET 15!” Lo and behold, I delivered you a 68 as ordered and spent the next 30 minutes circling the infield at BU (holding up the whole team, mind you), only to find out that I indeed got 15! Subsequently, I got my lifetime 3k (8:33) and 1500 PRs and a 5k time which damn near was my lifetime best. 

 

My XC career finished with a top-5 all-time VCP performance (now 8th, at least I'm beating Dietrich somewhere over 3k); I remember you also saying I left with the most sub 25 8k/5 mile results in program history.  The latter had more to do with the gradual shift towards faster and flatter courses in the NCAA system, but I’ll take it! We truly had an incredible squad in that stretch of time where 2nd place in the MAAC often felt inevitable. The 2008 season was particularly special, as the team was finally able to come together during championship season and nail all three races. We showed up at Disney in numbers and buried everyone but Iona, then we FINALLY broke into the top 10 in the region, and closed out with a second-place finish at the 100th IC4A Championship. That and our big year in 2010 (I got to “hold the clipboard” at a few races, marking a one-season NCAA coaching career) were a culmination of the hard work and culture built before us.

 

My last few track seasons were a little less than stellar, but thankfully I was able to save some of the best for last. I came to indoors in pretty good shape and was largely primed for some fast performances, the only hiccups came from the weather. It was a particularly icy that winter, and my February training cycle went like this:

 

Sat/Sun: Long run/race recovery, slipped on black ice with a mile left. Bruises, abrasions, and some difficulty walking.

Sun/Mon: Off due to injury.

Tuesday: Off or short shake out see if I can still run.

Wednesday: Light workout to see if I can handle speed.

Thurs: Regular run, maybe we will do okay? Or Pre race run.

Fri/Sat: Race day! Not my best, but in the right place if I can stay healthy through next week

Sat/Sun: Long run/race recovery, slipped on black ice with a mile left. Bruises, abrasions, and some difficulty walking.

 

I finally broke 15:00.00 indoors, ending any need to run 25 laps inside ever again but leaving a decent chip on my shoulder at the start of outdoor track.  In my AAU/Kirk’s Day debut, I ushered in the end of the McCann Center Track with my only individual school record, which may last eternally. While I understand that Quimes technically bested my time on an Outdoor Track the next year, I’m only willing to recognize it as an “Outdoor Record.” I feel as if the McCann Track was the harder venue considering its 160m length, smooth surface, and narrowing from 2 to 1 lanes at the far turn (definitely a great way to learn track tactics however).

 

This brings us to the famous “Rolek Challenge” 10k! Mike and I had an interesting relationship when we shared a uniform; he remains one of two men I’ve ever had a full-blown yelling argument with during a workout (literally mid-rep on the back straight of the Spackenkill track)! We were both proud members of the hammer squad and our competitive natures would occasionally get the better of us, even if it occasionally came to a boil. My sophomore year, he set a then school record of 30:36 at Sam Howell; only for Girma to crack a 30:22 at Penn a few weeks later. As he was decidedly a capital D “Distance Guy” and I was at the time a Miler who could hold his own in a 5k; I always had it in the back of my mind to try and nab his specialty PR before hanging up my spikes (and I only wanted to run the event once).

 

I’ll recommend you all read Pete’s color commentary from back then, but I’ll leave you with a few short observations.

1.     This performance was on April 1st (TEN FREAKING YEARS AGO); a fact that escaped me at the time, which is now hilarious because Mike Rolek might have thought it was an Internet prank. My 30:33 indeed passed the “Rolek Standard.”

2.     I was racing against future training partner Andrew Coelho (another Wantagh weirdo) and future NYAC Teammate Sebastian Schwelm. Also, I had finally qualified for Outdoor IC4As.

3.     It took me about half of the race for me to realize that the NYU Coach at the time (our good friend Nick McDonough) was also cheering for me! I had rabbited one of his athletes to qualify for NCAAs (I believe) at the same meet, in the same event freshman year after running a sub-par 5k. 

4.     The “No Splits” thing was all about finding ways to not overthink a long and uncomfortable affair. I was aided by other inexperienced runners in the lead pack, namely a gaggle of seemingly scared LaSalle freshmen who would speed up every time they passed their coach on the first turn. The changing rhythm kept me alert!

5.     I was able to brag about having the fastest debut in school history for two weeks, until Will Griffin smashed the school record at Mount SAC at 29:45.

My career ended with one last epic MAAC 5k, with fellow RVC resident Pat Duggan acting as sacrificial lamb in helping me score points and get one last sub-15 (he was also instrumental in my AAU record). It technically ended with an IC4A 10k performance (should have heeded my own advice of “one and done”); but the only highlights there were rebelliously wearing a homemade black Marist singlet and purchasing a Hoagie Haven T-shirt while exclaiming “I CAN GET FAT NOW”!

Fun fact: You remain legendary in my household for your "if it's free it's me" mantra (Joey still quotes that and lives by it!) and when you were locked out on our back porch, playing with James' blocks. You were known as an irreverent personality on the team and yet you may have been one of the best athletes I've ever had in talking with recruits! Talk about all of those things (I know, that's not a question!)

First and foremost, the quote is “if it’s FOR free, it’s FOR me”! I was definitely known for finding, shall we say, “cost effective” solutions to trivial problems. I’ll also say that the rampant pillaging of on-campus BBQs, use of meal money for weekly groceries, and other unique savings strategies were ratcheted up upon the admission of one Adam Vess to Marist College. The shrinking of phrase as well as adaption and apparent industrialization of the lifestyle by one Joey Colaizzo, remains a source of immense pride. 

 

If you search my name on this blog, you’re likely to find some synonym of “goofy” as the nearest adjective to my name; I won’t dispel anyone of this characterization. I cannot remember the “locked out” story, but it fits my character for sure! I will say my more childish characteristics are paying off in spades within the conversation of early parenthood. I consider myself among good company when people talk about my occasionally outside-the-box worldview; this team has had an ongoing parade of weirdos marching through the program. Every once in a while, the world picks up one of my hair-brained ideas and runs with it (i.e.: Marching Band at the Red Fox Trot) and makes itself just a little better.  To the “irreverent” tag, I’ll choose to take it as a compliment! I can at times be blunt or tactless in my conversational approach; at times it can get me into a little hot water, but you would certainly know where I’m coming from. 

 

The above personality, paired with my successes on the field and a natural affinity for sales/hospitality, made for an incredibly successful recruitment rate. I’ll first discuss our four-year tradition of the “Accepted Students Day” round robin conversations. I’d come by McCann that Saturday and the two of us would sit down in a conference room and talk with any prospective athletes interested in the school. Considering I could help sell the team culture from the perspective of someone running under your tutelage. I’m unsure if I gave you a day in my fifth year, but I vividly remember speaking with a significant population of our team. (Editor’s note: Conor conveniently forgets to mention here that before the roundtable panel discussions upstairs, he would absolutely raid the free-food tables set up by admission in what would later become known as the “McCann Arena” … if it’s for free, it’s for me!)

 

I’ll also touch on my skills as a host briefly; if you stayed on my floor or couch for an overnight, there was a greater probability you’d come to Marist. Maybe it was luck in getting recruits more likely to gravitate towards us, but I’ll tell myself it was all me! The key was always trying to read the recruit, bringing them on the most scenic run available on the day, and selling our “buy-in” culture.  I’ll always remember future Groomsmen Adam Vess and Shane Reilly’s separate visits. Both hit “Under the Bridge Trails,” Adam and I cut one of my three classes that day (Editor’s note: This is so predictable as to be almost cliché at this point) to see something more interesting, and poor Shano got woken up to one of Leo’s infamous random 4 a.m. fire alarms (during a snowstorm, no less)! I’ll also mention Bill Posch and Mike Nicoletti’s post-IC4A visit my junior year, which was special because they had both been freshmen at Kellenberg my senior year.

 

Coming tomorrow, Part 3: Conor’s post-Marist life – career, running, marriage, family and everything else! – along with a finish-with-a-flourish, surprisingly excellent and forward-thinking brainstorming for the future alumni relations within our program. Feel free to comment. That’s what he wants!

Pandemic Papers: An Interview with Conor Shelley (Class of 2011), Part 1

 

OK so today, the very sporadic Pandemic Papers series continues with a somewhat new format. Conor Shelley (Class of 2011) put a lot of thought, effort and work into these questions and answers. I think it’s safe to say that he used about as much cognitive energy on this interview than perhaps he did during the entirety of his five-year academic career at Marist. That might be a bit of hyperbole, it’s definitely a direct pot shot at Conor … but I bet Conor would agree with that! So yeah, that new format. Conor texted me a few days before he emailed me the interview and a ton of photos that he “needed an editor.” My reply was something to the effect that we don’t have what we used to call “newshole” back when I worked at Dutchess County’s Finest Daily Newspaper. In other words, it’s a blog. There are no “space limits.” But hoo-boy, his interview came in at around 7,000 words. That’s a lot to digest, even for the most loyal blog follower.

 

So, I’ve decided to break this into a three-part series! It fits kind of neatly into that – in terms of word count but also topic. Part 1 = The Early Years of Conor, leading up to his time at Marist. Part 2 = The Marist Years and his many great athletic (and many bizarre other) accomplishments as a five-year member of the Running Red Foxes. Part 3 = The Post-Marist Years, which have also been filled with great athletic, professional (and yes, more bizarre) accomplishments and milestones. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did.

 

When, how and why did you start running?

 

My mother and (to a lesser imprint on an adolescent psyche) a significant percentage of my aunts, uncles, and other relations were all hit by the marathon bug in the early 1990s. Playing in a long jump pit while Liz Shelley was likely running Yasso 800s on a track, and standing in Central Park watching relatives finish at NYC Marathon are all vivid memories for me.  The running lifestyle was never overtly pushed, but my wife (Laura M.F. Shelley ‘11) constantly reminds me of a familial culture built around being active and half-stepping your closest friends. A fun side note: Laura’s dad was among the group of running buddies my mom connected with when we first moved to Rockville Centre.  In the early years, I’d be tasked with running around the block when particularly pent up or petulant. At 5ish years old, a third-of-a-mile with two hills (our house at the harder crest) totaling 15 feet of elevation gain (just checked) was a daunting task.

 

Once I got to middle school, I had an older sister who had run XC/Track and had started showing success as a freshman in high school (and eventually beyond). Paired with all of the above, matched with the fact that I seemed to be able to catch anyone given enough ground to do so, and buoyed by a near-undefeated 8th grade track season in the 800, I was hooked! I joined the 3 sport, 4 season lifestyle in my sophomore year of high school after realizing how much fitness I lost between XC and Outdoor Track in comparison to my peers. I had spent September-November working my way up the freshman ranks and came back in March back at square one; somehow it was too much for my ego. 

 

What other sports did you play growing up and when did running become the primary focus of your athletics?

 

Quite typical of American suburbia at the time, I was signed up for as much as I could try! I had the typical peewee soccer, Little League, and martial arts experiences.  I’m technically a Green Belt in Tae Kwon Do, as it was mandatory gym curriculum in high school through sophomore year. Basketball was everything for a while, and it took “The Last Dance” this year for me to remember how much so! My father played for the Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point, and he was head coach for my local league teams through middle school. Pre-working age summer camps included some hiking, orienteering, general sport, and marksman work (skills that make “Red Ryder Christmas” a little extra fun at the in-laws).

 

My most influential non-running activity, however, was actually my summer job as an Ocean Lifeguard! Growing up near coastal Long Island, the local news included water safety as a huge part of their seasonal coverage and highlights about the various Ocean Rescue outfits were a staple.  I joined up with the Town of Hempstead before my senior year and their two-week weed-out “Rookie Training” changed me from a cautiously capable swimmer to a budding waterman (not there yet, still). I cannot overstate how much this low-key life-threatening job helped build confidence, fitness, fortitude, and much needed social skills. I even recorded a few “retired rescues” near my recently vacated home in Long Beach, NY. 

 

You ran at a high school and for a coach that has quite a long and storied tradition on Long Island in the CHSAA (Kellenberg Memorial High). What are some of your fondest memories and highlights of your time as a high school runner? 

 

Fellow CHSAA (and similar private school leagues in NJ/CT/MA, etc.) alums take a certain pride in the long tradition of athletic success driven from the smallest “section” (number 13 by the way) in the state, with the largest footprint.  While we never really felt like XC/Track received the budgetary consideration of other teams, the simple capability of being able to recruit engaged, experienced, and seasoned coaches allowed our team the resources to learn as much about the sport as possible. Even our jumps and throws coaches had vast experience within the realm of distance/mid-d. The program likely felt pretty similar to the contemporary structure at Marist, and it certainly helped me learn the sport in a way I wouldn’t have at South Side High School (sorry, Duggans).

 

We often over-trained when in season, but it truly built the massive base I arrived at Marist with and influenced the drastic improvements I saw when I became a Red Fox. We’re spread across the country now, but I am as close to my Forever Firebirds as I am to my Forever Foxes. 

1.     Kevin Buckley: Imagine the track coach of near antiquity and delete the cigar! I’ve known this man for almost 20 years intimately and he’s still somehow a mythic being. We’re all certain at least 50 percent of his running knowledge came from the Belmont Race Track! For a long period of time, walking into the world famous (10k+ person facility) Armory Track in Washington Heights meant hearing the professional announcer armed with concert-capable AV equipment failing to speak over a man whose life depended on the outcome of the Freshman 4x200 “J” team. I am a proud recipient of three broken clipboards and a kicked-over trash can (all away from my view and for varying degrees of failure/success). They truly don’t make them like this anymore.

2.     Cross Country: Considering my early/surprising and continued success at Marist, it is almost strange to think of what I thought of as successes back then (13:17 at the famed VCP 2.5 Mile Course, 17:08 at Sunken Meadow). This flatlander was commonly finishing 4/5k races totally gassed, but able to bounce back quickly to energetically cheer for whatever friends and family were running after my race. Setting a PR at a particularly muddy Manhattan Invitational in ‘05 was incredibly fun, and solidified the notion that big guys with big feet can handle some pretty gnarly conditions. I made a Federation Championship team my Junior Year and was an All-State honorable mention after blowing up at The City Championship senior year (one broken clipboard).  

3.     4x800: First let me say that the CHSAA approaches the 3200m relay with a fervent zeal and Kellenberg was no different. Junior year looked like I would be destined for the 2 mile, until a serious winter-break injury sidelined my classmate. From that point on, track season involved taking a decidedly slow-twitch person and turning him into a passable long sprinter (the dreaded 5x200 with 5 minutes rest often left me huddled on the ground fighting charlie-horses in 30-degree weather). That year we won the Indoor City title in the last 50m (against sister-school powerhouse Chaminade), and Kellenberg’s celebration was bigger than that of the Team Title Champions. Senior year, we qualified for outdoor states, placed fourth in a school record, and I was personally able to set my lifetime best of 1:57 (this was when Buckley kicked over a trash can). Two trips to The Millrose Games (back when they were in MSG), and leading in leg 3 of the first heat at Nike Outdoor Nationals would round out the memorable experiences resulting from that brutal training regimen.

 

I left KMHS with a 4:33 mile, and a 9:55 deuce (done once on the pancake-flat placemat of Suffolk Community College).

 

The last thing worth mentioning relates to the “LI Summer Training Group” referenced in a few prior Pandemic Papers entries. The schedule, cadence, venues (including post-run refueling), were initially based on what Kellenberg/Bellmore Striders did during the off season (most significantly at Sunken Meadow).  Over the years, the group grew to the point that a few dozen collegiate runners could show up on any given Tuesday/Thursday; almost feeling like a bona fide practice. I’d love to find out if the current LI team meetups can be linked to that crew of dedicated grinders who truly made summer training memorable; if so it may be amongst the most impactful part of my Marist legacy.

 

Take us back to the recruiting process? What led you to Marist and what made you choose Marist? What other schools were you considering?

 

Marist first came on my radar with a campus mailer which featured a photo of the 4x800 team of Decker, Quinn, Bamberger, and DeMarco at the Millrose Games (Bob Sweeney, the mid-d folks DO have value). I hadn’t heard much about the school beforehand and having ran in Madison Square Garden that year as well, I figured it would be worth a look at. In three visits, I can’t actually remember if we met for more than a few short minutes. My overnight (I can’t remember if it was official or not) was a Sunday to Monday with JK Trey, and they had been “entertaining” a more valued recruit the night before. While the visit wasn’t too eventful (classes were snowed out the next day, and I don’t think I even had the chance to run), John and company did a great job of selling the program and the school. 

 

My impression of Marist (ignoring platitudes of the beautiful geography) was that it was a run of the mill college, where a good work ethic could go a long way. This may sound like a slight, but most other schools I visited were talking about how they aimed to be on the level with Harvard within a few years; the sales pitch always came off as disingenuous. An institution with a degree of self-awareness and humility went a long way in my book, and the much later discovered Marist Coat of Arms words of “Cum Optimis Litigare” (to strive with the best) proved to be true.

 

I had been looking at Iona, Stonehill, Delaware, Fordham, and American; with the former two giving me a humble academic scholarship. I’ll be honest, Iona was in the lead for a good while. The prospect of having an outside shot at a national berth in XC was alluring and it seemed as if they were grooming me to be a workout rabbit for one of their top 1500 guys. Coach Buckley hadn’t sent someone Mick Byrne’s way yet, and really wanted to see a dedicated distance runner matriculate to this program.

 

With a decision deadline days away and me sitting on the fence, Coach Juan Estrella (summer run coordinator, 3x LI Marathon Champion, and incredible coach himself) pulled me aside for a solo warm up and made my choice clear.  While he was a top runner at Fordham, he always noted that the lesser-funded former satellite school in Poughkeepsie was often doing just as well as the historic program he was running for. He told me that while he hadn’t met you personally, he had heard other coaches within our community refer to you as a supportive and nurturing coach (he used the phrase “second father,” take it or leave it in the editing process). Juan also made me aware that he really wanted to see a dedicated distance runner matriculate to this program. I was sold, and the Kellenberg (and Rockville Centre) pipeline was open (Juan was also a major driver of the summer group, I think you owe him a beer Pete)!

 

I remember speaking with a couple of fellow runners that summer and all I could say was “My coach has a mullet,” I wonder what 18-year-old Conor would think of your magnificent beard!

 

Editor’s note: One of the many reasons I love Conor is that he is the only person on the planet who would refer to my current facial hair situation as “magnificent.” Also, the gratuitous mullet reference is outstanding; thank you. I’m hearing that mullets are coming back in vogue? And, while I’ve heard the “Juan Estrella story” a few times and have indeed thanked him personally, it still blows me away because 1. He ran for a rival school and 2. I had actually recruited him out of high school!

 

Coming tomorrow, Part 2: Conor Shelley’s very adventurous and successful running career at Marist. And a little bit about academics, too. 

Happy 70th birthday, Marty!

 

We had been playing "phone tag" for the past week or so. Our most loyal blog follower and alum, Marty McGowan (Class of 1973), pictured with me here at Ocean Breeze back in December of 2018. Every time he called, I was busy dealing with whatever crisis du jour was coming our way, and I kept forgetting to call him back. Finally, this afternoon, I had a free moment and we had a nice long conversation, mercifully uninterrupted by whatever crisis du jour is surely looming on the horizon. It was good catching up with him, checking on his family, hearing that they're all vaccinated (great news!) and talking about track tales old and older. Somewhere in there, he slipped in that it was his 70th birthday. That's a biggie! That's huge! I could have been disingenuous and said "yes, of course, I was calling to wish you a 70th birthday" ... but alas, I just got lucky. Listen. If you meet Marty and talk to him for a few minutes about his beloved alma mater, his beloved Staten Island, his beloved family, you too will consider yourself lucky. He's still going strong, his surgically repaired hips making it through 1 hour and 15 minutes of exercise this morning. We're lucky to have him in our Marist Running universe; 70 years old. Very neat!

Pause extended, season delayed

In case you missed it: Marist College extended its campus-wide pause – this includes suspension of all Division 1 athletics activities, practice and competition – through Wednesday, March 31. The number of positive Covid cases continues to rise each day, and the number of active Covid cases has remained stable. In this case, “stable” is not great; it’s better than increasing, but not decreasing means no improvement means we stay stuck in the mud of yet another pause.

We have an outdoor track schedule for 2021. We have no idea if and when we will be able to participate in that schedule and get on an actual track. Our first scheduled meet was Saturday, April 3 at Rider University. That meet in Lawrenceville, NJ, will go on as scheduled, but your Running Red Foxes won’t be there. We have meets scheduled for every weekend in April and into early May. Will we be able to attend these meets? I don’t know. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, in an ironic twist of fate, yesterday (Saturday, March 27) was an absolutely gorgeous early spring day. Sunny and mild, gentle breezes. In “normal” years, this would be the day we would have started our outdoor track season, at the Monmouth Season Opener. That meet is not happening this year – everyone’s schedules have been scuttled. But if it had been held, weatherwise it would have been a great day! Usually, that meet features cold, wind, rain – and some combination of all of that. This year? Great weather, but no early bus, no meal money, no nothing … stuck in Poughkeepsie, on pause.

We always search for reasons, ask “why” questions, which these days usually devolves into finger pointing and blame. A lot of that going on around here. Why is the virus so persistent in and around the Marist campus? What’s going on? I’ve thought about this, probably way too much. I’ve posed this question, every weekday morning (except Wednesday), when I teach Public Presentations – mostly on Zoom … imagine that, “public” speaking on Zoom, but that’s another story. The students in class, almost all of them non-athletes, express frustration and fatigue and an attitude – especially off campus – of exasperation and even resignation. They’re done with the virus; the virus is not done with us. Seems like I write the same sentences in different posts. Pause continues.

Dear diary:

As uncertainty and stress continue to swirl around the status of outdoor track, 2021, I have been turning to the solace of writing (Say More vs. Say Less?) to keep my head straight. Abetted by early-morning coffee and late-night insomnia, here are some random thoughts from the past week.

Today, Anniversaries: It has been a year since we started the Pandemic Papers interview series, with the kickoff being Father Jacob Bertrand Janczyk on Thursday, March 26. It some ways, the year has flown by – here I am, sipping coffee in the early-morning hours of the last Thursday of March, house quiet and no plans to go to campus to meet the team, just like last year at this time. And in some ways, it has been a long slog of sameness, anxiety and bewilderment of what is happening and what has happened. A year ago, the idea of contracting the virus was scary, the idea of getting a virus test was laughable and the idea of a virus vaccine was science fiction. A year later, the virus remains scary and tragic (more than a half million Americans perished), but we also understand a lot more about it. Getting a test is quite simple, almost routine. And the miraculous vaccines are in a lot of people’s arms with a lot more on the way, our single greatest pathway to that light at the end of the tunnel. Meanwhile, the Pandemic Papers may have slowed to a trickle, but we have a blockbuster edition in the works. Stay tuned.

Monday, Top-down mode: The road wind and noise were unbearable. So too was the volume of music emanating from the front seat of the Jeep, courtesy of my daughter’s iPhone and my wife’s Jeep Wrangler with the top two panes of the front seat roof removed – allowing the unseasonably warm sun and just-as-warm breezes to engulf the vehicle. I was in the back seat. Jeeps are not comfortable rides, especially in the back seat. The road noise, wind noise and music noise were giving me a headache, as was my cell phone, which dutifully told me that Marist College was now on Code Orange, full pause through Friday. But you know what? The sun was shining and the two most important women in my life were smiling, singing and happy. For a Sunday afternoon toward end of March, we’ll take it.

Sunday, Old logs, new logs: Not sure why, but I started reading my old training (running) logs – was delving into the early and mid-1990s the past few mornings. It’s a window back in time, a truncated diary with snippets of information and running and life – some simple comments like “felt peppy” or “brutal cold rain” or “no motivation” and some others lost in the foggy haze of memory like “a lot going on” or “busy with travel” (where or why, who knows?) and one simple entry on July 14, 1995 that read “I got married.” I kept training logs pretty regularly back in the day. I had a few in the mid-1980s, stopped for many years and then resumed in the early 1990s and continued them for 20 years before once again suspending operations, which I regret. I have resumed the habit now, and I’m glad to do it. Now, my training log entries feature more walking than running, but it also motivates me to log more miles and get my Garmin watch going along with my legs. And maybe include some other life information in there too. Something to look back on, when I’m an old man. Or more likely, a pile of dated spiral notebooks for my children to view with detached curiosity after I’m gone, debating whether to toss them into the dumpster, burn them in a bonfire or keep them as a keepsake of a life on the move. Kids, if you are reading this? Keep them, please. They may not be “worth” anything to anyone, but they meant something to me while I was around. And that should be worth something. 

Saturday, Why am I awake?: Why do I wake up so early these days? It’s 4:46 a.m. as I start typing this, and I’ve been awake – pretty much wide awake – for about an hour. One culprit = my digestive system, which is a ravaging mess each morning. Doesn’t matter what I ate the night before or the day before, although it’s a pretty safe bet there was some non-quality junk in there. When you are home for most of the day, you graze. And when you graze, it’s mostly unhealthy foods that you consume. So yeah, that could be of my own doing. But that’s not the entire story. Why am I up so early, mind racing, eyes scanning late-night texts (anything sent after 9 p.m. is considered “late night” to me), the email inbox, New York Times articles, words tumbling out of my head and onto this document while the rest of the house – and most of the world – remains dormant. There is a beauty in this isolation – a quiet I don’t get the rest of the day – but it’s also unsettling. Yeah, I’m an early riser. But THIS early? This is just not normal, it’s not right … but it’s my normal now, so I guess it will be what it will be for now. Time to brew more coffee, think of some more words and get ready to meet my friends for a jog.

Microcosm

We’re making news over here at Marist. Earlier in the week, we announced that our College is on pause, with only essential activities allowed. Unlike the fall 2020 pause, essential activities this time do include in-person classes and working out (via appointment) in the McCann Recreation Center – but not a lot else. College decision makers have surmised that this voluntary, precautionary pause is essential in slowing the spread of the impressively persistent Covid-19 virus. A quick glance at our Covid dashboard – which I obsessively refresh each afternoon – and you’ll note that our case numbers have been increasing at a somewhat alarmingly rapid rate for the past week.

Like last fall, during this pause, all intercollegiate athletics activities – practices and competition – have been, well, paused. Our cross country and track athletes were already on pause since March 10, because of burgeoning positive Covid cases within our ranks. We were a bit ahead of the curve, with our Covid numbers trending upward slightly before the general campus population. As one source of trusted information on campus said to me: “Pete, your program is really just a microcosm of what’s happening on the rest of campus.” I like that explanation, although I don’t like the outcome of that explanation. As I think I have mentioned here previously? The current variant(s) of this virus seem to be extremely effective at transmissibility, much more so than the “original” Covid. In other words, when people convene -- now vs. the fall semester -- the likelihood of viral spread is much greater. What does that mean? On a college or university campus, where social interaction of every sort is the norm, outbreaks of positive cases are bound to happen. Zoom in on our upcoming outdoor track season (first scheduled meet = two weeks from today) and ask the same question (what does this mean?), and the answer defaults to something – two things, really -- we have said with alarming regularity over the past year: “I don’t know” and “We’ll see.”

Pi day is hip

 

Thanks to Kelley (Gould) Posch, math teacher (and track coach) extraordinaire at Mahopac High School, for sharing this Highly Neat picture from her classroom. She celebrated Pi Day (March 14, sorry this post is a day late) by using those sticky track “hip numbers” to go out quite a few decimal places for the famous number. At her wedding (to Marist Running Alum Billy Posch), she used these numbers for table settings. Also neat. See this old post as reference. And, because we like to do our homework, Pi is a “mathematical constant” number that starts out 3.14159 and keeps going and going and going. Also, from Wikipedia, about Pi: “It is defined as the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter, and it also has various equivalent definitions.” Phew. Sorry. I was yawning as I retyped that. That’s why I’m not a math teacher!

LinkedIn anniversary

Apparently, my 30^th anniversary of employment just passed. I’m getting congratulatory texts and emails about this. I guess I should explain, especially regarding the “apparently” part. Back in the late 2000s, when I was still employed at Dutchess County’s Finest Daily Newspaper, I was told by the Important People In Charge There that we all needed to have a “social media presence.” This is about the time I started blogging (sheesh, blogs are so 2000s!) and I was forced to create a LinkedIn account. Spoiler alert. I don’t even know my LinkedIn password (so much for that “social media presence”). Around about the time I became full-time at Marist (for those keeping score at home, that was summer of 2009), I figured I should update the LinkedIn to eliminate my eliminated journalism career and pivot to all-Marist track. That is when I randomly selected whatever random date in March of 1991 as my start date. The truth of the matter is I actually don’t remember when I “started” or started getting paid to coach. To me, the late summer/fall of 1991, first XC season as coach, is when it all began. I was “hired” sometime during the winter of 1991 (I was the only applicant for the vacancy of men’s coach, and fortunately I was accepted as acceptable!). That spring of 1991, we were still a club team and I was working with the smattering of runners who would occasionally show up to practice; yes, it was quite informal. We (Phil Kelly and I) even went to a few outdoor track meets – fun fact, my coaching “debut” was at a meet in Mansfield, PA, which is close to the middle of nowhere. I should look up the date of that meet, probably some time in April of 1991. Maybe THAT should be my LinkedIn anniversary. Clearly, as you can tell, I didn’t put much thought into it.

Bottom line: This is the conclusion of my 30^th school year as coach of the Marist track/XC teams. God willing and if I am permitted to, we’ll start up our 31^st seasons of competition in August/September 2021. That’s how my clock works. I guess next year at this time, well-meaning folks will wish me a happy 31^st year of employment at Marist, if indeed I am still doing this. For now, thank you for all the well-wishes on my LinkedIn anniversary. It’s nice to be noticed, even if the accolades are based on some random date I pulled out of nowhere. Neat!

Fire on the mountain

The song – especially the countless live iterations – has a mellow, reggae-ish lilt to it. “Fire on the Mountain” by the Grateful Dead is one of my favorites in a long list of favorite Dead songs. As I was driving to meet my running buddies for a hilly Sunday jog out at Netherwood, a great live version of this song (circa 1982, Davis, California) was playing on Sirius XM, Channel 23. It got me swaying my head and thinking, as Jerry Garcia stumbled through the opening lyrics: “Long-distance runner, whatchu standin’ there for? Get up, get out, get out of the door.”

The vision of a long-distance runner, stilled, standing there, waiting to run but stifled by forces in and out of their control – these are the thoughts that swirl in my head these days. I have no idea of the “meaning” of “Fire on the Mountain” – my guess is it has nothing to do with running. But again, it made me think and wonder, which I do a lot of these days. Stilled runners. “Fire” on the “mountain” of our program (it’s a stretch, maybe, I know, but this is how my brain works). Without delving into too many details – these will surely come to light in the coming days – we’ve got some Covid issues within our team. That previous post? About the race between the vaccine and the virus? The virus is winning. If it were a cross country dual meet, Virus vs. Vaccine, the score would be 15-40, virus sweeps 1-5 spots, vaccine shaking its head wondering what the hell just happened. Not good.

“Long-distance runner, whatchu you holdin’ out for? Caught in slow motion in a dash for the door.”

The race is on

There are races, and there are races.

Last Friday, we had our first competition as a team in nearly a year at the MAAC Cross Country Championships, winter edition. Hopefully, this will be followed by more races and meets during the outdoor track season. In the meantime, off the track and the course, the big race going on – in our country, in our world, on our campus – is the one between Covid vaccine distribution and dissemination and the persistent, impressive virus that we are trying to tamp down. I’d like to say the vaccine is winning, but I’m not so sure.

On Tuesday afternoon, I received my first dose of the Pfizer vaccine at the vaccine clinic at UAlbany. I am grateful to report this news, especially since my initial vaccine appointment was scuttled by my quarantine due to family Covid cases. I’m scheduled to go back to Albany in three weeks for the second dose. So, I’ve got a head start of the race that we are all still running. Members of our team are not as fortunate. Most do not qualify yet for a vaccine appointment. While they wait, the virus continues to spread on campus, and in and around our team. If the virus wins some of these virus-vs.-vaccine races – on campus, on our team – the cost could be other races. You know, the ones on the track. Would I love to have our entire team – and our entire campus – vaccinated, in time for the outdoor track season? Yes, I would! Go vaccine = Go Red Foxes. Such fantasies of campus-wide vaccinations are unlikely. In the meantime, we’ll watch and hope – for races of all sorts.

MAAC XC Championships: More thoughts

Shortly after the start of the women’s championship race on Friday morning at 11a at the Seaview Golf Course, a pack of deer – maybe around 15 of them -- came sprinting maniacally across the field where just a few moments prior our women and the nine other MAAC teams in the race had sprinted away into the distance. They seemed startled, confused at the rather large gathering of humans, darting diagonally and jumping and sprinting – like deer tend to do. Then, panic set in on the minds of spectators like me (and, let’s face it, when the gun goes off, coaches are spectators just like parents, administrators, family, friends, etc). Holy crap, what if the women run right into the deer? What if the deer run right into the women? While this didn’t happen, it was a close call. And it was a completely random and bizarre event.

A completely random and bizarre event. That’s a pretty apt way to describe this cross country meet. A cross country meet, on March 5. A cross country meet, originally scheduled for Halloween, October 31, 2020. A cross country meet for a Marist Running program that hadn’t been at a competition of any sort, as a team, since a year ago. A completely random and bizarre event. Pretty apt to describe the deer, and really, this past year. Completely random and bizarre. There are many more descriptions that can be used. But that’s a good starting point for this discussion. Upon further reflection, after a few days to let this meet and everything it entailed sink in, we default to an emotion that we have been trying consciously to default to for the past several months, and that is gratitude. There is a laundry list of complaints and factors that worked against us heading into this meet. We can stretch all the way back to last spring (when our track season was canceled), last summer (when our 2020 XC season was canceled), last fall (when practice was stilted and truncated and the pathway toward an eventually canceled indoor track season was unclear), this winter (when we weren’t sure about this meet, when we could practice for it, when we could return to campus, if we could even go). Yes, in so many ways for so many of us collegiate athletics teams, this past year has sucked big time.

We can fall back on anger, we can whine in self-pity. And oh man, have we ever done that, and I’m the leader of that marching band. We can fall back on self-pity and anger. But we can also lean into gratitude. And that’s where we’re at. Just like in running, leaning in is far better than falling back as we navigate through the real world. The athletes I’ve talked to since the meet, they all echoed the same sentiment. Yeah, I coulda raced better. I felt lost out there. I know I had more in me. But man, it was great to put on the uniform, be with my teammates, hear my coaches and family and friends cheer me on. It was great to be back.  Anyway. Something like that. So, we lean into gratefulness, gratitude. Again, it’s a practice I have been trying to cultivate and nurture these past several months, as some of you reading this may be aware. Swimming upstream, but trying hard to perfect my stroke against the swift current of bad news and bad breaks, some of which we still may be staring us in the face over the coming weeks and months, as we prepare to navigate through the potentially rough seas of an uncertain outdoor track season. For one day, we were back. We were grateful. We feel confident that there will be more days like this in our future. The road ahead looks more clear than the view from the rearview mirror. On Friday, we pushed in that clutch pedal and finally shifted into first gear. For much of the day, it felt like we were stuck in that gear. But it’s better than being stalled at the side of the road, as we had been for 362 days. And before long, we’ll be back in overdrive. We can complain, we can be pissed. We can also be grateful.  

MAAC XC Championships: Not the end, but the beginning

This afternoon, the NCAA’s selection show for the March 15 Cross Country Championship revealed the field for the race. The Iona College women’s team, the MAAC championship team, was not selected. As a result, the top individual in the conference that was not on Iona – our very own Gianna Tedeschi – will not be traveling to Oklahoma State University in Stillwater for the championship. The selection process for this most unusual “winter season” was, well, unusual. There were no regional qualifying meets, so the process was an amalgam of results from various meets and rankings based on a variety of factors. Anyway, the bottom line: This means the collegiate cross country career of one of the greatest athletes we’ve ever had the honor to coach has come to an end. But many endings are actually new beginnings. Gianna will continue to run fast and run strong and reach newer and greater heights. Whether it’s this outdoor track season, whatever that holds in store for us, or post-collegiately in road races, where I believe she will be amazing, there are many more quality miles to come for GT (pictured here with freshman Tori Mariano). Long may she run.

MAAC XC Championships: Women's results

We had high hopes entering this meet. We are one of the better teams in the league. Up front, we still showed that. But in cross country, five places count and we were only good enough through three of those places today. For a variety of reasons, which we won’t get too into here because we don’t want to sound like we’re making more excuses. Not the result we wanted, but again, a “win” for just getting back out on the course. As the first non-Iona runner in the race, there is an outside chance that Gianna Tedeschi could earn an individual berth to the NCAA Championships. If Iona is selected as a team, she goes as the individual representing our conference. If not, Iona’s top finisher would be the lone representative from the conference. We’ll find out tomorrow afternoon. Either way, it was a great run by one of the greatest runners in school history.

MAAC Cross Country Championships

Friday, March 5, 2021

Seaview Golf Course, Galloway, NJ

Women’s individual results, 6km

4. Gianna Tedeschi 21:59.71 *All-MAAC

14. Ali Bartolotta 22:36.89 *All-MAAC

15. Hayley Collins 22:38.57 *All-MAAC

37. Tori Mariano 23:41.51

44. Talia Cutrone 23:58.60

79. Sara Leavens 25:11.49

84. Ellie Davis 25:28.75

92. Maria Smith 26:07.01

96. Greta Stuckey 26:38.38

112 finishers

Women’s team standings

1-Iona 36, Siena 58, 3. Quinnipiac 70, 4. Monmouth 83, 5. Marist 104, 6. Rider 201, 7. Fairfield 219, 8. Manhattan 221, 9. Canisius 239, 10. St. Peter’s 285

MAAC XC Championship: Men's results

Our lack of formal preparation showed today. That sounds like an excuse, it is an excuse (more of a reason, but still ...) and again no one felt sorry for us out there. But it did seem kind of odd for all of us. The pre-race spirit was great. Guys were psyched and pumped up. They went out decently hard on the first 2km loop. And then reality set in and we wound up in the middle of the pack, as you see by the team standings – five points separating fifth place, sixth place and seventh place. Unfortunately, we were on the back end of that tally, which sucks. But you know what didn’t suck? Racing. As a team. In uniform. It was really windy out there and quite chilly. No one – not one person on our team – complained about it. Not even the old man holding the stopwatch, the guy who is perpetually cold. This felt warm in our hearts. Not the results we wanted. But we’re back in the game. For today, at least.

MAAC Cross Country Championships

Friday, March 5, 2021

Seaview Golf Course, Galloway, NJ

Men’s individual results, 8km

28. James Draney 26:05.01

33. Matthew Hartman 26:19.79

39. Graham Strzelecki 26:34.13

41. Christopher Paxis 26:36.16

49. Daniel Czop 26:49.30

51. Brendan Dearie 26:51.22

53. Patrick Kutch 26:54.00

81. John Ignacz 27:52.04

83. Aidan Sweeney 28:00.63

84: Ian Wiesinger 28:00.93

86. Jack Parsons 28:05.06

93. Brendan Zeng 28:16.88

98. Paul Sandford 28:40.15

127 finishers

Men’s team standings

1-Iona 15, 2. Monmouth 77, 3. Rider 94, 4. Siena 105, 5. Manhattan 156, 6. Canisius 157, 7. Marist 161, 8. Quinnipiac 234, 9. Fairfield 263, 10. St. Peter’s 316, 11. Niagara incomplete

MAAC XC Championship: Sunrise

 

Went out for a frigid and brisk walk here in Galloway, New Jersey, this morning and was greeted by this amazing sunrise over the distant water. We are not near the beach, but close enough. It's the dawning of a new day, a one-day season and maybe turning the page on this pandemic. You know. That sounds good and poetic and all that. But life doesn't always follow a neat little narrative. The next couple of months in the Marist Running world still might be messy. But for today? We have this. And in a few hours, two XC races to run. The outcomes will be what they will be. As a wise friend noted recently, even less-than-optimal days in an arena that you love are better than the alternative, which has been the past 362 days. So we will spike up and see what happens. Programming note: There is no Wifi on our bus, so results postings here will have to wait till tonight. Go Red Foxes.

MAAC XC Championship: We're here.

The last two sentences of the last blog post from the last meet in which we participated as a Marist track and cross country program was dated Sunday, March 8, 2020. Here’s what was written:  

Great end to a great weekend and a great season. Onward to outdoors!

Oh, if only we knew.

Here we are, almost exactly a year later. March 5, 2021. In Galloway, New Jersey, near Atlantic City. Onward to outdoors. Literally, yes, this is true! We’re outdoors. It’s chilly and breezy. Here we are, at a most unusual venue for a most unusual championship in a most unusual month. Nothing usual about it. We’re wearing masks. We have two buses when we could have easily fit on one bus; this, of course, is because of social distancing, a term that few of us knew about on Sunday, March 8, 2020. On Friday, our women (11a) and our men (12 noon) will race in the MAAC Cross Country Championship. You know. The one we were SUPPOSED to have back on Halloween 2020? Yeah. That one.

We’re here. We’re not all here. But we’re here nonetheless. This is a smaller-than-normal travel squad, for a variety of reasons, Covid and otherwise. As we have noted, we have not been together, as a team in any capacity, in many months. But we boarded a bus, we did a pre-meet run on a golf course loop, we had grab-and-go dinners in our rooms, we’re wearing masks, we’re wearing neck gaiters, but we’ll eventually take them off, and we will race. What a long, strange trip it’s been, from Boston University on March 8, to Galloway, New Jersey on March 5. Don’t ask us how it’s going to go. Just know that, 362 days later, we’re really glad we’re here.