A quick on-theme running anecdote about Brian as I distract myself from my intimidating marathon training program ahead…
Many Thanksgivings ago, back when we were still in our childhood home in Mendham, NJ, the five of us siblings found ourselves lounging around our much lived-in family room, discussing how to fill the time during the long holiday weekend. It was early Wednesday evening when the energy and excitement of our reunion and the holiday was at its highest. No one had children yet and it was that short-lived sweet spot when we were all young adults and could fret over petty problems and throw out open-ended questions like “what should we do today?”
Someone suggested we all do the local town 5k Turkey Trot in the morning. The suggestion of a competitive event to five siblings was a sure-fire way to get everyone’s attention. The banter and heckling started immediately.
The next morning, with the turkey slowly cooking in the oven, we all rummaged through the house to gear up for the race.
Shannon and I pulled out our top-of-the-line technically savvy, dri-fit running gear. Pat, who required a strong bout of arm twisting to do the race, begrudgingly got dressed in his high school-issued athletic gear. Courtney, the most competitive of the group, decided to sit this race out under the guise of “her critical role in preparing dinner.” [Note to reader: Grove was there too but did not make the final cut of this story…much to his chagrin.]
Brian, the most amped up and energized of all of us despite his late night out with Pat, was searching through our various bedrooms to outfit himself with his joyful, bellowing voice booming through the halls. Per usual, Brian brought home very little for the weekend, relying on his minimal wardrobe and resourceful and creative flair.
When we were all ready, Brian bounced down the stairs wearing a faded pink and purple, Hawaiian print bathing suit, a worn in navy cashmere crewneck sweater and our dad’s stiff, white (norm-core before it was cool) Kswiss sneakers that were most definitely not meant for running. His outfit was completely inappropriate for running but on his tall lean frame and with his natural swagger it somehow looked completely right. [He honestly could have been a model.] “Don’t forget, style is important,” he'd say.
We all piled into the car to drive to the town race, buzzing with adrenaline and the morning’s coffee and plotting who would take the lead - our egos getting more and more inflated with each passing minute.
The race kicked off and to no one’s surprise, we all went extremely hard out of the gate trying to make a big show. Pat was the first to gas out. I tried to keep a steady pace, but Shannon powered ahead. Brian, in his colorful ensemble, bopped and weaved and floated through the crowd in the lead. Brian moved effortlessly, like he was exerting no energy, just doing what his body was naturally made to do. And he didn’t just run forward. Brian would spin around just for fun or run backwards to give us a wave and cheer us and others on.
I eventually lost sight of both Shannon and Brian during the 5k course, and after crossing the finish line, immediately found Shannon who had placed in the top 5 girls and top 15 overall I believe. But we couldn’t find Brian – did he gas out too after all those extra spins and moves?
Then we spotted the Hawaiian swim trunks and heard his laugh. Brian, casually eating a bagel and drinking OJ, was laughing with a group of friends he had run into – no shortness of breath to be seen. Brian, the purist who didn’t do any form of planned traditional exercise and in his totally ridiculous impractical ensemble, had finished in SECOND PLACE!
The rest of us, who overthought and over planned everything and had been geared up in our technical apparel, heckling each other the whole way, couldn’t stand up to Brian and his completely effortless and joy-fueled approach to it all.
He didn’t take himself too seriously and he didn’t take small stuff seriously either. He probably could have finished in first place if he hadn’t wasted time running backwards trying to get us to keep up and smile. It was a really great day.
So, in circling back to the marathon, I want to channel Brian’s joyful and positive spirit. I’m not running for a time and I am certainly not running to place. I am simply running for the journey of it all. To enjoy my fellow runners’ company and spirit and to enjoy the feeling of life and movement. To hopefully wear something I love; that makes me feel unique and good; and to simply not take it all too seriously. I love you, Brian, and I miss you beyond words. I celebrate you and honor you every day. Love, Kerry