March 27th, 1998

 

March 27^th, 1998

The date marks the Friday 27 years ago when my running friend Tommy B. and I set off on a running goal together. He was getting off from his midnight shift job with the water company and my first two morning clients had cancelled, and I still had an eight-hour day of work ahead of me, so I was relieved as such. The day before Tommy B. and I decided to meet at the Ridgewood Duck Pond. We’d been discussing—that someday we would like to run forty miles. Both of us had never ran more than 36 miles all in one run.

Funny enough, Tommy B. and I had only met two years prior via having a mutual acquaintance, Nancy. One day Nancy said to me, “There’s this guy you could run your long runs with. He’s like the male version of you Jody.” I almost fell over laughing as we’d ran together that day. I figured, no one could possibly be as quirky and scientific minded in their running as I had been—for it was not normal. Yet, Nancy was correct. Tommy B. was the male running version of myself.

So, that day in March we met at quarter past four in the morning. It was cool out, Tommy wore long running pants. He was always more chilled than I was on our long runs once a week. I’d always thought it was because, as much peanut butter as he’d eaten—that was by the spoonful as he’d stated. His large amounts of daily peanut butter eating seemed not to lend itself to having a much more body fat. At the time Tommy, being a vegetarian, appeared to have kept his body fat lower than my beef eating eight percent. He must’ve been at four percent body fat or lower then.

That day, I’d shown up with my short, pocketed running tights on. Too, a windbreaker over my ripped and worn layered shirts and wearing a pair of cotton gardening gloves. It was either that or socks I wore on my hands when chilled. Tommy was a bit overdressed, yet we never imagined the temperature would get any higher than sixty degrees. At most it would the high sixties with the full sun, as we’d run throughout the parks. The three other parks paths connected to the Ridgewood Duck Pond area back then.

We had our hand held fast-draw water bottles loaded up. I had GUs stuffed in my short’s pockets. We carried extra HydraFuel and UltraFuel bottles to store and hide on our first loop of ten miles in the park for the ensuing loops. Off we ran into the dark of the path leading towards the Glen Rock park, then Paramus areas. By the time we’d finished our first ten miles the sun was rising. We felt good, yet the temperatures began to rise rapidly. After twenty miles, Tommy mentioned he was getting warm. I asked, “Aren’t you wearing shorts under those running pants?” He replied, “No, I forgot to bring a pair.” I replied, “Ahh. Don’t worry about it. It can’t get that hot today. You’ll be fine.” Tommy nodded.

Off we were for our third ten-mile loop, we were making great timing too, staying well under eight-minute miles—we’d finish in just about five hours at that pace. Every ten miles we’d take about an eight-minute rest to drink more fluid, suck down a GU and hit then head. This was so we didn’t have to be carrying our fast-draw water bottles on our third and fourth loops and we’d only be carrying the empty bottles we’d hidden of premade drinks to the trash receptacles as we’d run.

After thirty miles the temperatures ramped up nearing eighty degrees. Tommy bemoaned he didn’t think he could last more than two more miles. I said, “Com’on Tommy, we gotta’ do this. I know we can.” He replied, “Jody, it’s so hot. I don’t know how much more I can take.” I remarked, “I’ll give you a free massage today for an hour, my eleven cancelled. I don’t got nobody till noon. You’ll be my eleven for free. Free Massage Tommy. Com’on Buddy! Besides I know you’ve been stressed lately. You gonna’ turn that down?” Tommy perked up, “Really?” I replied, “Oh yeah. I swear. Cross my heart Tommy. I will work your body for free for an hour. Com’on. Let’s do this. We can!”

Tommy agreed. At that point and time in having known Tommy B. I’d never known how humorous he was. That day, those last ten miles, he got funnier and funnier. Everything had a point of sarcastic hilarity to it. It was the first time I’d ever heard him curse. At times I was laughing so hard, I’d wobbled nearly knocking him over as I was filled with laughter and exhaustion. With two miles to go, he wanted to quit. I scolded, “No! No way! Not happening! We’re doin’ this buddy!”  He’d become more agitated, as the temperatures rose above 80 degrees.

Soon, we were at our cars—now as veterans of our first forty-mile run. We ended in five hours and four minutes. “See you at eleven Tommy. In my office.” I quipped. I got in my car and drove off to the gym where my office was located in. I cleaned up and waited in the weights room area just outside my office. I heard Tommy talking to a former professional football player that we both knew—as that was after he’d made it down the staircase. The former player and a few of the other guys who he’d play racquetball with were giggling. “Damn! No way!” Their voices drifted off. I smiled, as I meandered over to them to greet Tommy. “You.” I laughed. The player remarked, “Wow!” I remarked, “Yes, we did forty miles this morning.” Tommy smiled with an ‘awe shucks’ look on his face. “Hey. You ready? You’ll be good after this.” I added. 

As I worked, Tommy still had me laughing. He was so high from the accomplishment of running forty miles that day.  The things we understood about one another over the next few years, as Tommy opened up a fabulous running store and such. We’d become separated as runners as our lives took different paths. Yet, every day since when I’ve either ran in or driven past the Ridgewood Duck Pond I think of that forty-mile run. One of many ultra-long runs we’d raced and trained in the future separately. Yet that was the beginning of our many times separate ultra-distance experiences. Tommy passed on September 12, 2014 at age 54. Oddly enough, the people we knew in running had never contacted me about his passing. I found out about his passing as I my husband and I were reminiscing together, and we wondered what had happened to Tommy. Too, as my husband that day knew he was himself dying, I was compelled to look Tommy up, for he’d want to know. And that is how I found out that Tom Brunetto had died years before.---Jody-Lynn Reicher