My Dedication to a Prankster
On December 21 of last year, for the first time ever, I dedicated a run to someone. It was to my brother-in-law, Tony Forsmark. He’d suffered a devastating stroke that would not allow recovery. My wife was in Los Angeles with his family and based on what she had told me that morning, I knew that this particular day would likely be Tony’s final one. I also knew that in some way, I would dedicate that day's speed workout to him.
I had simply no idea what that truly meant.
It wasn’t that I was unaware of the concept. I’d read on social media of friends dedicating various races to certain family members or friends. As much as I respected their actions, I confess that I could not truly grasp what the process entailed or why I would share doing so.
That started to change when a friend of mine told me that he had dedicated a long Saturday run to my mother after she passed away last January. This person had only met my mother on a couple of occasions. That she had made enough of an impact for him to offer such a tribute deeply touched me.
I had considered following his example by dedicating a race to my mother last summer. I’d even included a Bob Seger song that I knew was one of her favorites on the playlist. But being a race, my mind continually focused on the challenges presented by the event itself. The predominant thoughts in my mind were dealing with sunglasses wanting to fog up in the humidity as well as holding off other runners determined to pass me.
But this cold, cloudy early winter day was different. No other competitors or distractions on that quiet bicycle trail. Just my running coach accompanying me on his bicycle. The workout consisted of two 2-kilometers intervals with an 800 jog between them. They’re a tough workout - running a pair of miles with an additional quarter mile that always feels a bit longer at that quicker pace. I find them a good mental test as well as a physical one. Nor is there much talking between my coach and I once this starts. Past experience reminded me I would need every bit of wind possible in order to meet my goal times on this workout.
Tony had run cross country in high school. Apparently, he and his teammates were known as The Pranksters - hence the title of this post. But those years were behind him. When my wife and I would visit their Northridge, California home, Tony was more than glad to sleep in while I took full advantage of the running paths around the college just a few blocks from their home.
My brother-in-law was an actor. Like a majority of his profession, jobs weren't easy to find. His most prominent role was on "The Globesman" back in 2016 with Fred Armisen, Bill Hader and Helen Mirren. I remember him most as playing Grover Norquist in a brief role in the movie "Vice" in 2018. To see his big, silly face appearing so serious on the widescreen and later read his name in the credits from that movie was definitely a moment. Tony had a network of friends amid the acting community. (None of whom I've ever met.) Being around him was like hanging out with the coolest kid in the class. It didn’t matter what you were doing. You simply enjoyed being with him.
A good example occurred last summer. For whatever reason, we got into a discussion of 90’s alternative music. And when I say we got into it, by that next morning, my brother-in-law had compiled a killer playlist of alt music from that decade for our drive to Santa Barbara and back. Nor did conversation between us ever veer much beyond that playlist. Forget the Sunday traffic, ocean views and California Condors we encountered on that drive. We devoted the entire trip to sharing geeky tidbits of information and personal experiences related to those wondrous songs. With his being a bit of a know-it-all, I could tell Tony hated it when I’d know some trivia about a band or artist that he didn’t - which wasn’t often. I was clearly in over my head. I’ll never be able to listen to World Party again without thinking of him.
What does that have to do with running 2K’s? Tony loved every minute of life. But most likely, that and everything else about him ended a few hours after that horrendous stroke. It was for Tony that I wanted to experience every second of panting for air, every second of that burning in my legs and every second of my mind counting down the remaining distance. I wanted that because I wanted to feel what he could no longer feel and to also be grateful that I could experience each and every one of these sensations.
Tony Forsmark left this world the following morning at 2 am. He leaves behind a wonderful wife and two lovely girls along with many friends and family members who will dearly miss him.
I ran a bit ahead of my intended paces for both 2K's that morning. No one knew of my intentions on that workout. Until now.
Is that how dedications are supposed to work? I’ve no idea. I simply intended to honor someone I will miss in the manner that seemed appropriate to me.
I’m not asking anyone to share such personal experiences. If you’ve thoughts on this topic, you’re welcome to do so. A final thought is that we do indeed remember to be thankful for each day that we are able to enjoy this remarkable activity and to cherish each moment of this life.
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