I grew up in a family where emotions were not something you dealt with or at least dealt with like a normal human being. Feelings and emotions were generally shoved under the carpet at all expenses, and the motto was basically "suck it up and drive on."
I am not sure why this was the case because my parents were old school, and feelings were considered weak—a Darwinian measure for weeding out the inefficient hunters or gatherers. I am not sure, but I know that it had a huge impact on me.
My father always struggled with his feelings; after his passing, I remember saying to my sister that it was like he was trapped in his own head. He had such a hard time expressing himself and telling anybody, much less his family, how he felt. The only raw emotion anybody ever really saw was anger from him. The only time I remember him crying was after his mother died and a sweet old family dog. Then he would "suck it up" and move on again.
I knew that he loved me, not sure why, but I always knew it. He tried to be affectionate when an important family event surfaced (maybe because it was customary), and he would awkwardly try to hug me and tell me how proud he was of me. It always felt genuine but very strained and uncomfortable.
My mom, on the other hand, was a stone.
She was cold and emotionless. It used to make me feel like I was horrible and unloved, but as I got older and understood a bit of her childhood, it started to make more sense as to why she was the way she was. She could not help it. It was a defense mechanism for protecting herself from sadness, grief, or happiness. She did not have an easy childhood. Her father died when she was a child, and her mother worked to support her and her sister. My mother became a caregiver. Other things molded her into the person she became. A disease (a near-death bout of polio when she was a child) and near-death experiences (she is a two-time cancer survivor) made her shut down and go into protect mode. Feelings became inefficient. Feelings got you hurt.
I used to joke with people when they asked me what she was like when I was a child, an easy response. I would say, "efficient." She was very efficient; we wanted for nothing, all of our basic needs were met, she kept us warm and safe, and made sure we stayed out of trouble, but anything above and beyond that, the dealing with raw emotion, was just not her style.
It has been a week since the passing of my dear friend Mike Fontes. And while it is getting better, I am still struggling with all these emotions bubbling to the surface. I want to shove them down, but they keep surfacing. There is anger, sadness, and confusion but mostly sadness.
Since I have never been a touchy-feely person (see the beginning of this post) and not the best at handling raw emotions, dealing with this overwhelming sadness makes me want to scream. I find myself in a precariously, sensitive state all the time. It feels awkward and defenseless. I am at a loss for words as to how to cope with it all.
I know that death is a part of life, and I need to move past all the raw emotions and somehow accept things for what they are; I cannot help myself from crying at the 7-11 while getting gas. Something comes over me like a wave and then spills out on the pavement in front of me.
I run into somebody that knew him, there it goes, I see a post on Facebook, again another wave. I try to control it, but I cannot.
I was listening to this song on my iPod called "This too Shall Pass" by OKGo. I know it is true; this will pass. In the meantime, I am trying to deal, to cope, and to deal with seeing his face in my dreams and wondering if he is still running up there in the sky.
Run-on, my friend, run on.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
A Remarkable Friend
My husband said, it's wierd how life works, how you could be happy and go out for a run and not come back. I said, yes sometimes life works like that.
This weekend i lost a very close friend of mine.
His name was Michael Fontes.
It was a beautiful Saturday morning and we were in the middle of a training run. I saw him back track before we turned around and i put out my hand to give him a high-five.
A few minutes later, he was hit by a van.
Nikki and I saw someone lying on the other side of the street as we were heading back. We ran across to see who it was. We did not know right away that it was him and the moment we realized it. we sat beside him.
I want to hope that somehow he heard us there comforting him, Nikki and I. Allowing myself to think this way gives me some sense of relief. I kept telling him he would be OK. Nikki kept telling him to hang in there. I tried to convince myself that he was going to be OK but I knew deep down inside that I was fooling myself.
He was already gone.
It has now been two days. When I first got the news, that my gut told me that very morning, that he had indeed died, it did not really register until later on in the day. I found myself crying about him. I would miss him terribly.
They posted a story on the news about him the next day. They talked about what an accomplished runner he was. They said he was a Boston Qualifier. This was true, he was an a remarkable athlete and there is no doubt in my mind that if he was still with us, he would have been even more remarkable, defied the odds and gotten faster and faster, despite the fact that he had just turned 60 years old.
But as remarkable as he was, that was not the Mike Fontes that i knew.
We met a little over 4 years ago in the Denver Galloway group. I was training for my first marathon, he was on his second. But just recently, over the last few months or so and I did not see him much. As he got faster, i was still slow. Not that i am complaining, but anybody that runs knows that this is the nature of the beast. Sometimes people get faster than you.
Mike always wanted to be better, and while i did too, i was not the same kind of runner as Mike. While my improvements were minimal at best, a minute here, two minutes there, his improvements were astronomical. Well who could blame him? He was dedicated and passionate about the sport. He seemed to live and breathe just to run. That was who he was. I always knew that about him. So I would try to get to our group runs a little early so we could chat, before he darted off with his pace group.
You see, you really get to know a person when you log a lot of miles together. When you run for hours at at time, what else do you do? When Mike and I met in the Denver Galloway group, we were kind of the same pace so we always ended up running together. Most of the time we were our own pace group, he and I, Nikki and Lisa. It was a small pace group, so go figure, we talked... a lot.
I knew about his significant other, Joann. I knew that he was Portuguese and that he came from a very large family in Pennsylvania. I think he said 7 or 8 brothers and sisters. I knew that he was an engineer who worked at comcast for years. I knew that he had Lady Gaga on his iPod. I knew that he liked birds, because he always stopped, regardless of how fast he was going to take a picture of one and tell me what kind it was. Of course, i could never remember all their names, but i would nod and enjoy the short break just the same. I knew that he liked to grow his own tomatoes. We shared stories of growing up on the East coast, i grew up in NY, so we talked about the people, the places, the food. He talked about his only son Mike, who he said was so smart and creative.
He knew about my husband, my little boy and his heart condition, my step-kids and my job as an Instructional Designer.
Then of course, we always talked about running. We discussed races, times, places to run, how to pace. Not like we really new much about pacing or any of that stuff back then, no matter, it filled the hours during our runs.
We ran the Boulder Spring Half together. He was so excited for me because i shaved about 10 minutes off my previous time. After the race, Nikki, Mike and I drank hot chocolate and coffee under a tent and waited for Mike Costas to finish.
We did the Mt. Evans Ascent together, he Nikki and I. He scrambled to the top while Nikki and I did our best to make the cut-off. After the race as we stood shivering up at the top, enjoying the view, and talking about the mountain goats, he took pictures with his phone. We took the bus back down to the bottom for the free cheeseburgers.
We ran several Platte River Half's together. He always came in first and waited for us to finish. Nikki, he and I ate brats and talked in the parking lot after each race.
We ran the Colorado Marathon together. Well most of it anyway. I found him around mile one. It was cold and miserable but we ran together. Nikki found us and we all chatted. Then at mile 13, he took one look at his Garmin and with a look of panic in his face, in typical Mike Fontes fashion, took off like a bat out of hell. Mike, had a goal to meet and knew he needed to pick up the pace. I was glad that he went because if he stayed behind he would have been upset at himself.
When I finished the race, i could not find him anywhere so i shuffled back to my car. My phone beeped and there was a message from him that said "Yeah!" I think his time was around a 4:20 and he was so happy about that. Who would have thought that he would surpass that time by almost an hour a year later?
When I got back home, he emailed and said how glad he was that he stuck with me because it helped with his pace. He said, he always started out way too fast. I told him, maybe next race stick by me until about mile 4 and then take off, but i knew he would never do that. He had to run his own race.
When ever we were on a long run and i felt crummy he would try to cheer me up. One time he took out his iPhone, attached it to some kind of speaker contraption and ran with it on top of his head with the music blasting. Even writing about this makes me laugh, too funny. Only Mike would devise that kind of thing.
Another time he came to a run bragging about his "home made GU" as he rattled off the ingredients and the process to make this concoction, Nikki looked at him oddly and said "Dude, Really? Gu, 99 cents a pack at the store."
I would say, I knew him way before he was a remarkable runner. I knew him as a person and a friend. He was kind of a spaz, with beeping gadgets, garmins, headlamp and a slightly OCD personality, but underneath all of that he was a good person with a huge heart, who made me laugh. Who else would let you know how fast you were going every 17 seconds like clockwork? Who would run up and down a hill next to you until you got to the top just to keep you company? Who would wait for you to finish, no matter how far behind you were?
He would.
But i also know there are others, like me, that knew him before he was remarkable, that climbed mountains with him, ate breakfast, talked about religion, politics, kids, wives, husbands, ups and downs. To know this, to know there were others like me, gives me solace in my grief.
Running makes you think about a lot of things. This morning i took my dog out for a quick 3 mile run and started to think about Mike. My run was not remarkable in the least, it was hot, i was tired and grouchy and my dog was yanking me all over the place. Nonetheless, thinking about him made me imagine that he was next to me talking about a bird, rattling off his heart rate or talking about another homemade GU concoction.
For the last two days my husband pointed out a butterfly out in our backyard. Since we hardly ever see them anymore, it was kind of strange. It is large and yellow and beautiful.
I am not a spiritual person but when i saw that butterfly i could not help but think about my dear friend. I know that butterflies are only around for a short period of time but they make an impression on you. Maybe, just maybe, this was his way of saying that everything will be OK, that life is short and beautiful and precious. How people come and go out of our lives and we have no control over any of it. How everything happens for a reason and sometimes it is difficult to rationalize those reasons and how even though we are only touched by a person for a short period of time, they never really leave us. They make an impression that lasts forever, like that butterfly.
Dear "Speedy Mike" If you can hear me, I will miss you more than you will know. I only wished i could have said that to you on that day so you would know it.
Run on dear friend.
Your friend,
The Old Chick in the Back
This weekend i lost a very close friend of mine.
His name was Michael Fontes.
It was a beautiful Saturday morning and we were in the middle of a training run. I saw him back track before we turned around and i put out my hand to give him a high-five.
A few minutes later, he was hit by a van.
Nikki and I saw someone lying on the other side of the street as we were heading back. We ran across to see who it was. We did not know right away that it was him and the moment we realized it. we sat beside him.
I want to hope that somehow he heard us there comforting him, Nikki and I. Allowing myself to think this way gives me some sense of relief. I kept telling him he would be OK. Nikki kept telling him to hang in there. I tried to convince myself that he was going to be OK but I knew deep down inside that I was fooling myself.
He was already gone.
It has now been two days. When I first got the news, that my gut told me that very morning, that he had indeed died, it did not really register until later on in the day. I found myself crying about him. I would miss him terribly.
They posted a story on the news about him the next day. They talked about what an accomplished runner he was. They said he was a Boston Qualifier. This was true, he was an a remarkable athlete and there is no doubt in my mind that if he was still with us, he would have been even more remarkable, defied the odds and gotten faster and faster, despite the fact that he had just turned 60 years old.
But as remarkable as he was, that was not the Mike Fontes that i knew.
We met a little over 4 years ago in the Denver Galloway group. I was training for my first marathon, he was on his second. But just recently, over the last few months or so and I did not see him much. As he got faster, i was still slow. Not that i am complaining, but anybody that runs knows that this is the nature of the beast. Sometimes people get faster than you.
Mike always wanted to be better, and while i did too, i was not the same kind of runner as Mike. While my improvements were minimal at best, a minute here, two minutes there, his improvements were astronomical. Well who could blame him? He was dedicated and passionate about the sport. He seemed to live and breathe just to run. That was who he was. I always knew that about him. So I would try to get to our group runs a little early so we could chat, before he darted off with his pace group.
You see, you really get to know a person when you log a lot of miles together. When you run for hours at at time, what else do you do? When Mike and I met in the Denver Galloway group, we were kind of the same pace so we always ended up running together. Most of the time we were our own pace group, he and I, Nikki and Lisa. It was a small pace group, so go figure, we talked... a lot.
I knew about his significant other, Joann. I knew that he was Portuguese and that he came from a very large family in Pennsylvania. I think he said 7 or 8 brothers and sisters. I knew that he was an engineer who worked at comcast for years. I knew that he had Lady Gaga on his iPod. I knew that he liked birds, because he always stopped, regardless of how fast he was going to take a picture of one and tell me what kind it was. Of course, i could never remember all their names, but i would nod and enjoy the short break just the same. I knew that he liked to grow his own tomatoes. We shared stories of growing up on the East coast, i grew up in NY, so we talked about the people, the places, the food. He talked about his only son Mike, who he said was so smart and creative.
He knew about my husband, my little boy and his heart condition, my step-kids and my job as an Instructional Designer.
Then of course, we always talked about running. We discussed races, times, places to run, how to pace. Not like we really new much about pacing or any of that stuff back then, no matter, it filled the hours during our runs.
We ran the Boulder Spring Half together. He was so excited for me because i shaved about 10 minutes off my previous time. After the race, Nikki, Mike and I drank hot chocolate and coffee under a tent and waited for Mike Costas to finish.
We did the Mt. Evans Ascent together, he Nikki and I. He scrambled to the top while Nikki and I did our best to make the cut-off. After the race as we stood shivering up at the top, enjoying the view, and talking about the mountain goats, he took pictures with his phone. We took the bus back down to the bottom for the free cheeseburgers.
We ran several Platte River Half's together. He always came in first and waited for us to finish. Nikki, he and I ate brats and talked in the parking lot after each race.
We ran the Colorado Marathon together. Well most of it anyway. I found him around mile one. It was cold and miserable but we ran together. Nikki found us and we all chatted. Then at mile 13, he took one look at his Garmin and with a look of panic in his face, in typical Mike Fontes fashion, took off like a bat out of hell. Mike, had a goal to meet and knew he needed to pick up the pace. I was glad that he went because if he stayed behind he would have been upset at himself.
When I finished the race, i could not find him anywhere so i shuffled back to my car. My phone beeped and there was a message from him that said "Yeah!" I think his time was around a 4:20 and he was so happy about that. Who would have thought that he would surpass that time by almost an hour a year later?
When I got back home, he emailed and said how glad he was that he stuck with me because it helped with his pace. He said, he always started out way too fast. I told him, maybe next race stick by me until about mile 4 and then take off, but i knew he would never do that. He had to run his own race.
When ever we were on a long run and i felt crummy he would try to cheer me up. One time he took out his iPhone, attached it to some kind of speaker contraption and ran with it on top of his head with the music blasting. Even writing about this makes me laugh, too funny. Only Mike would devise that kind of thing.
Another time he came to a run bragging about his "home made GU" as he rattled off the ingredients and the process to make this concoction, Nikki looked at him oddly and said "Dude, Really? Gu, 99 cents a pack at the store."
I would say, I knew him way before he was a remarkable runner. I knew him as a person and a friend. He was kind of a spaz, with beeping gadgets, garmins, headlamp and a slightly OCD personality, but underneath all of that he was a good person with a huge heart, who made me laugh. Who else would let you know how fast you were going every 17 seconds like clockwork? Who would run up and down a hill next to you until you got to the top just to keep you company? Who would wait for you to finish, no matter how far behind you were?
He would.
But i also know there are others, like me, that knew him before he was remarkable, that climbed mountains with him, ate breakfast, talked about religion, politics, kids, wives, husbands, ups and downs. To know this, to know there were others like me, gives me solace in my grief.
Running makes you think about a lot of things. This morning i took my dog out for a quick 3 mile run and started to think about Mike. My run was not remarkable in the least, it was hot, i was tired and grouchy and my dog was yanking me all over the place. Nonetheless, thinking about him made me imagine that he was next to me talking about a bird, rattling off his heart rate or talking about another homemade GU concoction.
For the last two days my husband pointed out a butterfly out in our backyard. Since we hardly ever see them anymore, it was kind of strange. It is large and yellow and beautiful.
I am not a spiritual person but when i saw that butterfly i could not help but think about my dear friend. I know that butterflies are only around for a short period of time but they make an impression on you. Maybe, just maybe, this was his way of saying that everything will be OK, that life is short and beautiful and precious. How people come and go out of our lives and we have no control over any of it. How everything happens for a reason and sometimes it is difficult to rationalize those reasons and how even though we are only touched by a person for a short period of time, they never really leave us. They make an impression that lasts forever, like that butterfly.
Dear "Speedy Mike" If you can hear me, I will miss you more than you will know. I only wished i could have said that to you on that day so you would know it.
Run on dear friend.
Your friend,
The Old Chick in the Back
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)