The 1st Annual Grateful for the Dead Run: fare thee well

On the morning of Saturday, November 28^th, 2015, when most people in their right minds were spending the Saturday after Thanksgiving with family and loved ones, surrounding themselves with extra servings of turkey leftovers and football games as far as their hungry eyes could see, my good friend Derrick Pierce and I ran a marathon in my hometown of Bowling Green, Kentucky. Before you get this post twisted, this is not a shaming post to inspire you to get off the couch or to discourage the act of appreciating the remnants of Thanksgiving as long as you can. I love both of those ideas much more than I do training and running a marathon, especially a 2-person marathon without an official time or road closures or medals or bib numbers or photo finishes. This is a post of remembering our loved ones.

Like stretching our muscles before the big run, this race has a brief story before the story that clarifies the situation and sets the mood. On August 29^th, I received the following email from the husband of another close friend, Adriana Melnyk Brandt:

Adriana’s father Rusty has been in hospice at home for a little over a week.  He passed away this afternoon.

In his final days he was comforted by Joy, Adriana, and other friends and family members and was able to listen to a playlist of the final Grateful Dead shows from earlier this month, which brought him comfort. Rusty was a lifelong Deadhead amongst his many amazing skills and sense of humor.  I will personally miss him dearly and am forever indebted to him for his life advice, and letting me marry his daughter.

They also played the following concert, which Rusty saw when he was in college in upstate NY. We all listened to it together as a family on our back porch last summer, before we moved to Utah.  He may or may not have, in his own words, “dropped acid and eaten a fist-full of reds and blues” while at this show. The show is a great one (unaided) and we ask that you keep Rusty, Joy, and Adriana in your thoughts while you listen to it.

The show ends with a jam of Saint Stephen (Rusty’s favorite song) / Not Fade Way / Goin’ Down the Road Feeling Bad / Not Fade Away / Turn on Your Lovelight.  Even if you don’t know the music, the titles alone are fitting. The jam is even preceded by Big Railroad Blues (Rusty worked for the railroad for many years before retiring in 2012).

Upon receiving the email, I was heartbroken for Adriana. I cannot fathom losing my father so I immediately reached out to her to talk and catch up but that didn’t happen. Understandably, she was in a place where she needed time to let it all sink in. I respected her space and told her to let me know when she was able to talk. I felt even worse about things because I hadn’t talked with Adriana in a very long time. She had moved out to Utah in the past year, received her doctorate, and had also taken up a love of ultra marathon running due to her love of finishing everything she starts and a deep appreciation for the outdoors and wondrous landscapes of the West.

Later that same day of receiving the email about Adriana’s dad, I was in a text message with several other mutual friends of Adriana and Derrick when it dawned on me that I had not seen Derrick since he and I ran the Music City Marathon in Nashville back in 2009. Soon after that race, Derrick moved to Arkansas to start up his own successful optometry practice and has been busy ever since in his own world. Hearing the news that Derrick had gone through a divorce not too long ago without me knowing about it, I was feeling two-for-two of being a real shitty friend in time of need for two people I deeply care about and love very much.

To preface this preface = Adriana and Derrick and I first became the closest of friends when we all lived and studied abroad together in the spring of 2001 in Merida, Mexico through a program offered by Centre College. There are too many stories to tell about those adventures and the ones that followed so I’ll leave that for another post altogether.

I texted Derrick to see if he’d like to catch up via a phone call that very evening and he promptly answered my call. He assured me that all was well in his world, professionally and personally, and then I brought up the news and idea I had to honor Adriana and her family. Here is the brief phone conversation:

Me: Hey, do you still run a lot?

Derrick: Well, I have run a few marathons this year already but I’m definitely taking a break until the fall.

Me: Derrick, you do realize that it’s August and you said you’ve ran a few marathons this year and it’s almost fall, right? You could have just said yes.

Derrick: True. What do you have in mind, chizzucles?

Me: Well, are you coming back to Kentucky for the holidays at all?

Derrick: I’ll definitely be in for Thanksgiving.

Me: Okay. Let me talk to Adriana and then get back to you.

Derrick: Deal. I’m down for whatever.

I emailed Adriana right back after chewing the fat with Derrick and she said that she would only be back East for Christmas. I had to tell her that that would not be good timing for the idea to happen on my end and we’d have to stick to Thanksgiving without her physically being present because I couldn’t train for my idea and then not follow through with the race if my wife went into labor and had our first child around Christmas (talk about an announcement on the fly within close circles – we are due on December 30^th but it looks like it will come early – we don’t know what we are having but we know it’s – shim’s – a giant). Adriana totally understood and was happy just to be in the loop.

So, here was the initial idea before the run:

I would map out a race route around Bowling Green, Kentucky that would start and end at my parents’ home on Garvin Lane. It would feature spots along the route that not only highlighted past memories and current homes of family and friends where they could set up mini-cheer/aid stations for us, but it would also let Derrick get a good view of everything Bowling Green has to appreciate = check.

I enlisted my good friend Alex Smith, a great artist and screen printer who just opened a new business in downtown BG called The A-Frame, to make special t-shirts to commemorate the race and all involved = check.

Derrick sent me two training schedules. He sent the second one saying this one is a bit more difficult than the first if you aren’t skeered … knowing full well that I would do the second one after that message. Derrick can run a marathon in 3.5 hours so it would be the perfect set-up for me to finally run one in under 4 (even if 3:59:59). After all, we weren’t running to qualify for any other races in the near future.

With the training and race in the books, and a few family members and friends lined up to make an appearance along the route to help us on the day of the run, all was set for another epic adventure to be had together. Then tragedy struck again.

Two weeks on the dot from the race day, a guy I once knew in high school, Justin Griffin, fell to his death on the other side of the world. Justin was a Kentucky state champion runner and classmate at Bowling Green Senior High School and someone who always drove others to smile more, run faster, and be nicer to one another. He was a driven soul who inspired others to expect more out of themselves as well. Since our time together in high school, Justin went on to become an award-winning professional designer & builder and world-renowned climber and father of his first and only baby this past year. He was at the tail end of a few weeks of volunteering on a special project in Nepal and also marking a new historic climbing route when he slipped. You can read all about his final adventure here – www.climbing.com/news/tragedy-follows-first-ascent-in-nepal/.

The news of Justin’s passing hit me extremely hard. The fact that he was doing something he loved dearly instead of a traditional career path and also that he was a fairly new father put some major life things in perspective for me just when I needed them. Also, my heart went out to his younger sister, Lane, who I was closer to than Justin but hadn’t talked to in a handful of years beyond checking in with her on Facebook here and there. Regardless, she is someone I still care deeply about and have since we first became friends way back when. Side note, Lane ended up attending Centre College as well as Bowling Green Senior High School with me. She’s way smarter than me though. Side side note, I found out that in this time of family adversity, Lane was expecting the birth of her second child at any minute too (I’m very happy to report that Juniper Justin Valiante was born four days post-BG race and everyone is happy and healthy!).

I called Alex and asked if he could make a name addition to the t-shirt design he was creating secretively in his art studio. I had emailed Alex the original email from Adriana highlighted above about her father and his love of the Grateful Dead and asked that he come up with something original for the race as he might for his custom concert t-shirts. I told him that the race name was going to be “Grateful 4 the Dead Run” and he loved it. I asked that he include the name of Adriana’s dad under the artwork and also Justin’s as well.

Alex did me one better. The day before the run, he added “1^st annual” and I said that that was a brilliant idea so that we could do something every year from now on going forward to honor our friends and friends of friends who pass away in the year in between (sort of like the memorandum at the Oscars). It wouldn’t have to be something huge, like a marathon, or to raise tons of money, but it would be something very near and dear to all those who wish to participate.

Fast-forward to the morning of Saturday, November 28^th, and I’m fully dressed and ready to run and waiting for Derrick to show up at my parent’s house. I heard the dogs barking and I walked outside to see Derrick pretty much matching me from head to toe without planning our running gear. I instantly thought of my good friend Michael Brechner and almost was overcome with emotions on top of the laughing Derrick and I were doing when seeing each other for the first time in 5 years. Michael is one of the coolest and nicest people I have ever met. He works with my wife at the Frist Center for the Visual Arts and is currently battling cancer via chemo treatment for the second time in just over a year. Prayers his way are welcome, but the thing that distinctly made me think of Michael in terms of our running attire was that he always takes pictures of co-workers or friends who dress alike on accident and posts them online and in his office. He calls them twinkies, I believe.

I think I needed Michael’s positivity and spirit and Derrick’s enthusiasm to get going that specific morning because it was raining something steady. Derrick had packed for all sorts of weather and even planned on possibly canceling the run outdoors if it rained a flood. I told him there was no way I could do 26.2 miles on a treadmill and we took off into the mist without further questions.

We seemed to have all of life’s answers with the wind at our backs. By the end of the first mile at the turn off of Garvin Lane, we had run an amazing 8-minute mile (we only needed to maintain around a 9-minute pace for time goal) and I probably talked for the entire 8 minutes, trying to fit in 5 years of updates to get on the same page with Derrick. Both of those things would come back to haunt me.

The rain wasn’t too much to handle and it wasn’t too cold either. I believe the slow, consistent drizzle helped us both slow down into a more natural pace to weather the route and the budding storm looming ahead. Our first turns around old neighborhoods took us right by my childhood education of St. Joseph Catholic School. I could almost hear Coach Gorman telling me to sprint up the steps faster or making some joke that also served as inspiration. And speaking of Coach Gorman, we ran past his offices, turning at the Bowling Green Hot Rods minor league baseball park and headed towards our first aid station, The A-Frame.

My mom was waiting for us at The A-Frame, holding some water and Powerade and her camera phone, as my dad and Alex were holding court. Alex told us that he had the shirts printed and ready and I told him I’d take a look at them when we returned on the 2^nd pass at around 22 miles. Derrick and I slowed but not to a stop (at least I didn’t stop while Derrick found our first of several outdoor restrooms). We kept moving along.

We circled Western Kentucky University’s campus off of Kentucky Avenue, past the big football stadium where family past and present have played (Go Tops!), and then took a right, appropriately, on Nashville Road to the next station. Out in front of my cousin’s childhood home was my cousin Leslie and her growing family with tons of signs and water and Powerade and smiles in the pouring rain. Anyone who has run at all knows just how much each and every ounce of positivity goes a long way. Derrick and I were feeling good about our run at this point, but it all helped.

We took a left and a left and then ran by Uncle Mike’s humble abode. At Mike’s house, my mom was the solo cheerleader. She had said she was game for keeping up with us along the way (probably 51% or more out of concern and 49% or less out of cheering for us, but she’s a mom and that’s what they do, right?) but we didn’t fully know until she was alone that she was down to be our traveling support team throughout. Again, it meant the world to both of us.

Through our first major traffic light, we crossed into the hood of Bent Tree right after passing by Grandmother Beard’s house. Grandmother (because if you know Betty Jo at all then you already know her name is Grandmother) was accompanied by my mom and dad and brother Austin and Taylor and my aunt Page. That was the first time I had to use nature’s restroom before the crowd (hence, the solo pictures below).

We weaved in and around several blocks in Bent Tree and spit out near my brother Drew’s house a few hoods over. We somehow missed my mom and Taylor and nobody was at Drew’s yard when we went by. I was hoping that Ben Bruni would have been outside of his house to cheer or run a bit with us, but I think he was busy running his household as good as a man with a wife and three daughters (two teenagers) can.

After another major stoplight, we crossed over to Uncle Doug’s territory. Uncle Doug was not out in the rain but that didn’t stop honorary Uncle David Sears and his family to be outside and cheer alongside my mom and dad. They took the following picture which we were more than happy to photobomb as Sears yelled that our pace was amazing.

This, very close to our 13.1 mile marker, is where we probably should have turned around and retraced the route. Derrick and I have always said that Nashville’s marathon is one of the best first half marathons ever and yet the worst second half the way no crowds or support are there for the runners around Metro Center, and wouldn’t you know that by trying to design a race that would take us by our mutual friend’s house and community which he built that we pretty much put ourselves on a long stretch in the middle of nowhere with nobody around (Johnston Boyd was nowhere to be seen. Again, like Bruni, he was busy running a happy household of toddlers and his own business at the same time. I only call him out here because we thought about him as we ran beside his Traditions).

It was also at this point when my chest started to do something funky. Being an avid jogger, one of the best things about it for me is the ability of learning to listen to your body and what it’s trying to tell you what it needs when it needs it. That said, being able to hear what you body is saying doesn’t mean you always understand it. I know Spanish, but it was speaking something like German. After another traffic light stop, I needed to stop for a brief second to recalculate the situation. I used that time to stop Derrick and suggest that we stop for a minute’s worth of a moment of silence to think about the people we were running for that day, on and off the shirt. I’m not saying the rain let up for that minute, but there was a nice sense of peace that we took in.

As we trudged up Lover’s Lane, the airport on the right and the graveyard on the left put us in an interesting intersection of life and death and moving along. My mom was parked at one of the business parking lots on top of the hill and she noticed that I was not looking too good. I was probably feeling just as bad as I looked. She said my color was off and she actually called my dad after we left that station and said she wasn’t sure what to say or do (this, again, was a mom talking but she wasn’t too far off).

I had had no problems whatsoever during the training of running good pace for 13 plus miles, but I knew at the time and know from running experience that every day is different. Some days 2 miles feel like 30 and others 20 miles feel like 2. This was gonna be one of those really long days all around and I knew it. We could either stop or keep going. I made the call to do both.

It was at this point when my stomach forced me to run into the Chic-Fil-A to use their bathroom (luckily we weren’t running on Sunday since that’s the only day I ever want to go there and it’s closed). It was rush hour lunch service and I was in and out of the bano quickly but not before someone who I went to high school saw me looking like she saw a ghost. She said, “At least one person in here is being active today.” I replied something to the effect that “I’m just trying not to stop.” I must have looked pretty bad, but the short break helped me get my spirits back up a little after hitting that first big wall.

But just because I got over that first big wall didn’t necessarily mean that all was okay. My body was still shouting at me in German or Russian or something I couldn’t understand every time Derrick and I got our pace back to normal for a few hundred yards. I knew I wasn’t going to make our goal of under 4 hours, but at that moment, weather-willing, we decided to enjoy the run and catch up at our own pace.

Before we knew it, we were back at Leslie’s house on Nashville Road. We took the time to soak in the picture moments together and headed on 31-W to meet up with our lone runner to join the company in that of Jared Carpenter. As you can tell from the picture below, Jared is solid as a rock (inside and out). He played football with my brother Austin at BGHS and then went on to play grown men football and become a standout defensive back at Northwestern University. He recently moved back to BG from Chicago to begin a career in athletics at WKU and has started his own tradition of running at least a 5k every weekend. He joined us at mile 20 and ended up running the most he had run at any one time in his life.

We were steady walking and jogging our way up 31-W, rain still coming down like a mist machine on low, and we darted through an empty downtown and back over to The A-Frame. This time around my mom and Alex were joined by Alex’s mom and new bride, Shkala. It was at this moment when they saw something I’m sure they’ve never seen (but something that is common for most runners of great length) … it was bloody nipple-gate. Yes, despite the fact that I attempted to prevent said issue from happening, it happened. Worse than any cramps or chest pains or skin burns from chaffing (as most runner friends of yours can attest to) is the post-race shower with nipple issues (trust me when I say it feels like a 1,000 paper cuts). Now that you have that image engrained in your thoughts, let me finish.

I remember someone saying, “You guys are doing great. Keep on moving.” I replied, “If we don’t, we won’t!” And our feet kept moving still.

My mom stopped one more time for us with Powerade and encouragement outside of the Lifeguard Press offices (formerly where Camping World first started and also where I formatted and designed my first book Adventures Inside A Bright-Eyed Sky). Jared, a lifesaver of energy and conversation during his time with us, decided to run faster all the way home from there and Derrick and I took our time (Derrick could’ve easily finished with Jared – just to note).

We finished strong and the 26.2 mile marker was actually in front of my brother’s house instead of my parents’. We gave each other a high-five and then realized that we had to run to and through the second finish line because there were nephews and cousins and family waiting for us with signs and smiles.

I can’t say that we finished under 4 hours. Our unofficial time was an awesome countdown showing 4:32:01 and I thought that was very appropriate for counting down that our real race and appreciation for life and all of those around us started after we finished running.

To pay one last homage to Adriana and our Merida connection, Derrick and I took a picture with the best cerveza in Mexico that we three amigos shared countless times with our amigos south of the border, Sol!

As I write and post this, I’m still feeling an immense sense of being blessed with so many friends and family still living and not physically here today. Things are never as good or as bad as you think they are and I truly admire so many people I know constantly inspiring me to enjoy the moments and lessons and short time we have together while we have them together.

I’m already looking forward to putting another benefit together next year. Not as much for money or charity but with the goal of meeting up with loved ones to remember loved ones. Oddly enough, not one week after we completed our race, another high school friend who was from Bowling Green unexpectedly passed away at 35 years young. Heath Morris, someone I played baseball with in my youth and who always had a big smile on his face, mysteriously passed away of a widowmaker heart attack while taking a nap and slipping into the next life. I’m certain his name will be on next year’s shirt, but if you’d like to help give some love to his family in this time of need, please feel free to check out this link and share the good word – https://www.gofundme.com/9cdhcsfq.

Heath and Justin and Rusty will be missed but never forgotten.

Before I leave you for now, don’t worry about training majorly for next year’s event. I don’t know what we will do, but I know it won’t be another marathon. It will involve running at some point, but just know that we’ll have fun doing something extraordinary together.

Thank you for reading the above and thanks to all involved in making this very special day and event happen for Rusty and Justin and the gang. Enjoy your day today and remember to be nice to one another.

I love you!

chUck

www.eastsidestorytn.com

PS- YOU can purchase the shirts that Alex created over at The A-Frame starting now! Funds will go towards local charitable causes AND spill over into next year’s event as it comes together. You can find more information about The A-Frame by visiting it at 1229 Center Street, Bowling Green, KY or emailing its owner, Alex, at the following – jas1239@gmail.com.