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I just watched everyone go past me, then Ronald told me.
All the team knows is that while Sev was coming down the moun-
tain this morning from his cabin, he lost control of his mountain bike, and crashed into a tree. The force of the impact killed him. A police officer discovered Sev’s body earlier this morning when he stopped to investi-gate a stranded bike on the side of the road. As he approached the bike, he saw Sev, already dead, lying amid the trees.
After telling the team what happened, Wetmore dismissed them, and everyone split off into different directions, unsure what to do next.
Some, like Reese, went for a run. He went out to the Tank, and he alternately sprinted, walked, and jogged while crying, screaming, and cursing.
Then he went to the Hotel Boulderado where Sev and Reese’s good friend Clint Wells works to tell him the news.
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This evening, the men’s and women’s teams, along with Wetmore and JD, convene at Robbie, Batliner, and Roybal’s place to comfort and console one another. People bring photos of Sev, and everyone shares stories, laughs, and cries. The gathering serves a different purpose for everyone there, but the underlying sentiment is one of love — for Sev, and each other. It is an unspoken agreement; we are here for each other.
After wards, Batliner, for one, feels a little better. He says, “Everyone who showed up left in a little better shape. It was helpful to talk about the good stuff, laugh, and celebrate his life even though he just passed. It helped me a lot. I was really pissed that he was gone.”
It is hard to believe that just seven weeks ago the world was there for the taking. At that moment, everyone, says Batliner, “realized we had a lot of potential. For the first three weeks, it seemed like everyone was getting better. Tommy was getting better, Friedberg was coming out of nowhere, Brock was coming out of nowhere. Everyone was clicking from day to day.” Then Bat went down with injury, then Blondeau, and now this.
Were it not for Sev’s legacy and everyone’s unwavering conviction of what Sev would want them to do, ending the season now would be jus-tifiable. In dealing with their loss, the thought of whether or not to continue has crossed each runner’s mind, if just for an instant. But to Batliner, the decision to continue is clear. Late last year, there was some strife on the team, and Batliner remembers Severy’s words well. He says, “Last year when we had problems we were having a meeting and Sev raised his hand from the back of the room and said, ‘Can we all just shut up and run?’ Some people took offense, but that’s Chris, all business . . .” Batliner continues, “I’ve thought about it and I’m of a mind that Sev would like nothing better than for us to get back to work and doing our regimen.”
But right now, everyone’s thoughts are on Sev, his family, and each other. They will deal with running later. Says Batliner, “Whatever synergy we had, now we have to start over. The whole thing with synergy is every component is a key to the wholeness.” But the team is no longer whole, and now they must somehow find a way rebuild the web and carry on.
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Tuesday, October 13, 1998
Potts Field
4 p.m.
A Struggle to Understand
The men who will race this weekend are running repeat quarters this afternoon, as scheduled. Before the workout, some of the runners gather in small groups to talk. Reese says he went to the crash site today and found pieces of Sev’s helmet scattered in all directions as far as fifteen feet from the tree Chris hit.
The mood is quiet and somber as Wetmore emerges from his office.
He tells everyone to sit down. In a strong and sure voice that camouflages his intense grief, he begins, “The qualities we admire here are faith, endurance, and courage. We go back to practicing those values today. If we asked Sev if we should race this weekend, Sev would say, ‘No doubt about it.’ As I told some of you last night, the route past grief is through it. We’re going to go on from here, and go ahead with the business at hand.”
For the past 36 hours, the men here have experienced a range of emotions: anger, betrayal, agony, despair. Those seniors who have known Severy intimately for five years are especially struggling. As Wetmore speaks, Goucher and Reese sit next to one another, hands grasping knees, heads bowed, silently sobbing along with most everyone in the field house.
Zeke Tiernan is here to address the team, and he speaks next. He tells them a memorial service for Chris will be held in Aspen on Sunday, and a memorial given by the CU athletic department will probably be held on campus next Tuesday.
Wetmore then steps forward again, and tells his team that there are four layers of support available to them as they sort out their grief. One, the coaching staff. Two, each other. Three, a team psychologist. And four, university psychiatrists.
The psychologist is on hand, and he tells the men that grief is a process. It will affect them and become more poignant for each person at different times — at holidays, on runs, listening to certain songs, seeing different sights. Anything can and will trigger Severy’s memory. He stresses that they must remember Sev, “as you should remember him. He achieved a remarkable deal in a short time.”
Tiernan has put a Buddhist prayer flag up at the crash site, and after practice some of the men and women are going to see it. But first, there is business to attend to. The Varsity men head out for a jog, and the Bluebirds hit the Creek Path for their warmup to Potts.
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JD, Wetmore, and Lorie also run to the track on the Creek Path. It occurs to JD while he runs that the creek never stops moving. “My whole world has stopped,” he says, “but the creek, it’s still running.”
Flowers from coaching staffs around the country — including Arkan -
sas, Texas and Iona — pour into Wetmore from around the country. They only serve to make Wetmore grumpy. But it is as if the coaching frater-nity is reaching out, saying, “we know the special bond that develops between coach and athlete, we sympathize with your agony.”
The condolences make Wetmore grumpy because the last person he is thinking about is himself. He will deal with his grief on his time. His thoughts are on his athletes. JD’s thoughts are also with his athletes. “I’m exhausted,” he says on the way to Potts. “I’m completely exhausted. I can’t even imagine working out today.” But the show must go on.
As the men finish warming up Jen Fazioli strides in front of Wetmore, who is as demonstrative as he has been all year. “All economy begins in the face and shoulders. All economy begins in the face and shoulders. Pick up the heels! OK, let’s go! How do you know you’re relaxed? How do you know?” Only a freshman, Fazioli is logging upwards of 80 miles a week in an effort to make the Varsity squad. Wetmore is concerned she is overdoing it, and he pulls her aside as she comes around again. Putting a hand on her shoulder he looks down into her eyes and says, “I don’t want to spoil you, OK?” She nods. “Sev didn’t know moderation. I don’t want that to happen to you, so I’m gonna haunt you about that.”
The men are running 68 to 70 second quarters, with a 200-meter jog.
It is supposed to be an anaerobic effort, and after four intervals, they do not look like they are hurting enough. As they pass, Wetmore admonishes Schafer and the group, “Come on Schaf, you want to be puking over the fence at the end of this one. Let’s make it hurt now, boys! It’s time to get tired!”
It works. Schafer is an old-school guy who likes being on the receiving end of a verbal tirade in practice; it fires him up. Schafer looks back at the guys, and says, “Let’s tighten it up!” Johnson turns to Crandall before the next one, “Let’s hit this one, Zach.”
Wetmore’s enthusiasm is contagious, but it is not enough to keep some of the guys from falling of
f the back. JD says to Wetmore, “Those men are hurting at the back of the pack.” Wetmore replies, “Good, good.”
Ruhl falls off the pack, and Wetmore has him sit one out before jumping in the next one. Soon thereafter, Slattery falls behind on the recovery jog. “Come on Slattery, take the pain, take the pain. Get in there!” But all the coaxing in the world will not help him. He falls off the back on the eighth 400, and walks across the infield to catch his teammates before RUNNING WITH THE BUFFALOES
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they take off on the penultimate interval. Wetmore yells to him again,
“Come on Steve, this is your area, here on the track, this is your forte!”
Johnson, whose appearance is remarkably similar to Severy’s, tears up the last quarter with Elmuccio, and Slattery joins them on the breakaway.
Jay Johnson (Jay Johnson!) is imposing his will on the workout. Wetmore is ecstatic. He yells to them as they tear down the backstretch, “Control, control, control. Come on Steve, stay in there. Johnson’s back! Jay Johnson’s back! He looks like a 3:49 guy,” he says to JD, “doesn’t he?”
Hair bobbing up and down, Johnson’s stride loses some of its bounce as he moves at a quicker clip. Wetmore gets more excited with every step Johnson takes. “You saw him in August, it’s incomprehensible!” And yes, in the aftermath of one of the worst days of his life, Jay Johnson, the runner, appears resurrected. Afterwards, Johnson does not talk about his turnaround or his workout today. After all, it is only a workout, and he is too preoccupied with the tragedy to gloat over his improvement.
As the men finish their last interval, Goucher comes around towards the finish line to do some strides starting on the backstretch. Eyes red, he has had to stop intermittently throughout the run to shed some tears.
As he passes, Wetmore calls out to him, “Good, good. It’s time to start feeling good again. It’s time.” Teresa Dean, a walk-on from Alaska, starts a stride on the curve and blows by Goucher. As she passes him, Wetmore yells, “Right by, TD, right by, no mercy!” For the first time since everyone learned of Sev’s death, people laugh.
The guys head back to campus on their cooldown, and Wetmore
also runs back to his office. When he arrives, he collapses into his chair.
He takes a deep breath, and, eyes closed, slowly runs his fingers back through his long black hair. For the first time, the only time, Wetmore is a shell of himself. It has taken every ounce of his energy to maintain his spirit on the track. Now, in the seclusion of his office, he looks completely defeated . . .
After practice, JD and Lorie take vans up to the crash site with the men’s and women’s teams. For many it is their first visit to the fateful turn.
Everyone makes their way to the side of the road where Sev crashed.
Some stand together, and others sit, silently staring at the tree.The only reminder of Sev are the prayer flags dancing in the subtle breeze.
The crash site itself is not what one would imagine. It is not a hair-pin turn that proved too tough to negotiate. Instead, it is a gentle curve that slopes mildly to the left. Here? How could that be? How could that happen? It seems incomprehensible that it happened here; Chris was an expert cyclist, and the turn is quite manageable.
There are skid marks in the dirt in front of the tree. Before he crashed, Sev was most likely riding towards the middle of the road. Then, 152
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The turn.
something must have caused him to quickly change direction, forcing him to skid off the road. Perhaps a car was coming in the other direction and forced him to jerk his bike to avoid a collision. Perhaps there was some gravel on the road and he simply lost control. Perhaps a bug flew into his eye. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps. It is a futile game to play.
Hours pass. The sun goes down, and the evening’s chill descends upon the runners. There are over twenty men and women here, and no one is willing to move. The silence — the void — is too much for some.
But as they break down the others reach out to comfort them, to hold them, to remind them that, yes, they are not alone.
A memorial to Severy.
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In the coming days many people unknown to the team who have
cultivated relationships with Chris in other arenas also visit the site. Earlier today, a young bike racer came to the site and just sat there, legs crossed, completely beside himself. Perhaps he had ridden against Chris in a race, or perhaps he had imagined racing Chris in a training ride up Mt. Evans, just him and the munchkin on the Merlin, side by side, attacking the hill.
Some of Severy’s professors also make the journey, themselves
struggling. As they stand watching where Severy died, many describe how Severy was the best student in class. Oh, to see a student with such a thirst for knowledge! So young, so much potential.
Goucher, makes his way up to the site with his mother to leave some flowers in Sev’s memory. By chance, Sev’s mother and sister Robin are there when he arrives. Robin and Mrs. Severy recall the message Chris left on the machine about the race, and they laugh. They remember him saying, “Some freaking fuzzy foreigner beat Goucher, but he’ll kill that guy next time they race.” Mrs. Severy tells Adam’s mother, “Just keep Adam running.” It is what Sev would have wanted.
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Wednesday, October 14, 1998
Balch Gym
3:15 p.m.
Progress
Wetmore gathers the team again before practice and says:
We’re making progress with the ceremonies for Chris. There will be a cere -
mony on top of Buttermilk Mountain on Sunday. We hope it’s a nice day.
On Tuesday at 10 a.m. there will be a ceremony here for Chris. We’ll certainly know Monday. Most of you will be asked to consider the Tuesday ceremony adequate. Those of you who have known Chris for four years . . .
and want to be there, that’s understandable. We’ll meet in the morning and drive up. But, out of respect for Robin and her mother, who over the course of a year have had to cope with the death of a father and a son, an intimate ceremony in Aspen would be best. Chris’s mother is at her last piece of energy. Please, send no flowers. She’s so devastated, she can’t even answer the door. If you do plan to go up there [to Aspen], please keep a low profile. Every hug is agony for her.
That said, the Varsity runners not competing at Ft. Hays jog the two and a half miles to the Buffalo Ranch for another “Dam” workout. Wetmore knows they are hurting — physically and emotionally — so he asks them only for a hard effort, no watches.
With little fanfare, the runners get to work. Wetmore is quiet today, and the course seems more desolate than usual. For some, the running intensifies the pain, every step a quiet torture. For others, there is solace in performing the endeavor that Sev was so passionate about. And for some, running simply serves as a reminder that Sev is gone.
Goucher runs the dam in 53:00 — over a minute better than his previous effort. In his log he writes, “legs tired/body tired, mind tired, not really in running mood. Run felt pretty easy, didn’t feel like I was running hard. Ran 1:15 faster than last time. Thought about him every step (easier today than yesterday).”
Behind Goucher, Reese runs the course in 54 minutes
— a two-
minute improvement for him — followed closely by Valenti in 54:30, also a two-minute improvement. Friedberg runs 55 minutes and Berkshire finishes a minute later.
Others are not as successful. Tessman and Roybal slog around the course, gaining nothing from the workout. Each abandons the run with two miles to go. Recognizing all they have been through, Wetmore lets RUNNING WITH THE BUFFALOES
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them be. He knows that now is not the time to try to squeeze more out of his athletes.
The men nonchalantly go about their business. As they put on their sweats, they give each other “the shake,” a clasp of hands and a knock of fists that says simply, “you are one of us.” The shake never meant as much as it does now. As they hold each other’s hands and look into each other’s eyes, the shake communicates what words cannot.
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Thursday, October 15, 1998
UMC
6:00 p.m.
Impressions from Afar
Batliner is hurting. While his teammates have been able to lean on each other for solace every day in practice, he has had to go at it alone. It has been four weeks since Bat was diagnosed with a stress fracture. On Sunday, he ran for the first time since the injury: 25 minutes around Kitt. He ran with his shirt off in the 80 degree weather, and for the first time since he was condemned with the diagnosis, he again felt . . . free.
As with seemingly every cross-training regimen, his ambition to get after it cycling or swimming has faded with each subsequent day. At first he figured that since he was running roughly eleven hours a week, he would cross-train that much and then some for good measure. But then he got the flu. That triggered his sinuses, so his nose bled when he went swimming. That curtailed his swimming for a week, and then he was finally able to get in a pretty good week of training. Now, having reexperienced the joy of running, his desire to cross-train has diminished even further.
Bat is embarking on an ambitious running schedule to get back. After returning from a stress fracture, a runner normally begins running with some light jogging. But Bat has only five weeks to get ready for Nationals, so he must push the envelope. Tuesday, his second day back, he ran 35 minutes around Kitt with 8 x 300 in the middle. He ran the 300’s in 55–57 seconds, or as he terms it, “slow, out-of-shape cross country pace.” The good news is that his leg felt good. The bad news is he still had to run in the pool for 45 minutes — “putting my time in.” Today he added another ten minutes, running 45 minutes easy with Schafer, again around Kitt.