Running to the Edge

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Running to the Edge Page 33

by Matthew Futterman


  Meb Keflezighi and his brother Hawi are two of the most emotionally generous people on the planet. Meb is pretty fun to run with, too. Deena Kastor shared plenty of terrific stories with me about life and running in Mammoth. She still runs to win, which I love. Joe Vigil is a world-class coach and a world-class storyteller.

  I have thanked them before, but I will thank them again and always, because I had an amazing collection of public elementary schoolteachers who got me going on this writing thing. They include Peggy Richards, Naomi Gams, Kay Kobbe, Barbara Brownell, Allen Falber, Ray Kurek, and Eugene Egan. In high school it was more of the same—Rose Scotch and Mike DiGennaro dedicated their lives to public education and making readers and writers out of countless souls. Thanks for that.

  My agent, Suzanne Gluck at WME, stuck with this project even when it seemed like it wasn’t going to go anywhere. She didn’t have to do that. Thanks, SG. And thanks, Andrea Blatt, for all your help.

  Sam Walker told me I was an idiot if I didn’t see this project through. He’s nuts, but he’s a good man and much of my success is because of him. Kevin Whitmer and Chris D’Amico gave me my first shots at sportswriting and changed my life. I wish I could thank Chris while inhaling his second-hand smoke one more time, but sometimes the clock runs out on us.

  At The New York Times, Jason Stallman, Randy Archibold, Sam Manchester, and Becky Lebowitz have the good graces not to roll their eyes every time I drone on about running. Or at least they don’t let me see them doing it, which I appreciate. Talya Minsberg, a fellow marathoner and teammate, also tolerates me and sees to it that everything I write about running finds readers. She’s as cool as they come, a really good writer, and damn fast.

  There aren’t a lot of writers with the good fortune to have a book turn into a childhood reunion. I grew up with Jason Kaufman, and when I heard that he was interested in publishing my book there was no one else I wanted to work with. We share lingering bitterness toward our high school soccer coach and an undying love for Sal’s Pizza. Jason is a pretty good word guy, too, and a great friend for forty-four years and counting. Thank you.

  Also at Doubleday, thanks to Carolyn Williams, Todd Doughty, Bill Thomas, Mike Collica, Victoria Pearson, and John Fontana.

  Barbara Greenberg is a great friend, the perfect godmother to my children, and a master wordsmith.

  The good folks at New York Road Runners put on a darn good race each November, thanks in large part to the great George Hirsch, a giant of New York City who has dedicated his life to running and the written word. I’m lucky to have him as a friend and mentor. NYRR’s Chris Weiller always has an answer or a mobile phone number to pass along when I need it most.

  Thanks to Dr. Jordan Metzl for keeping me far away from a surgeon’s scalpel, and to my hot yoga gurus, Melissa Porricelli and John Salvatore, for keeping me healthy and inspired and believing.

  I leaned hard on the great Matt Lewis in writing this book. There are sentences that are lifted directly from his notes. He is a terrific runner who has completed the wild run across Madagascar, and a special friend, who taught me how to point my ski tips down the steep chutes and lean forward, both literally and metaphorically.

  My brother Danny is always waiting at mile 7 of the New York City Marathon, and my parents are always there at mile 22 outside Mt. Sinai. My brother David, who lives far from the course, regularly checks up on my training, follows my every 5K on race days remotely, and loves to talk strategy and results. All of this is a gift.

  For years, my daughters, Ashley, Tess, and Jolie, endured a lot of mornings being pushed around Central Park in a running stroller, sometimes in pretty bitter weather that could have gotten me reported to child protective services. They made out pretty well in the deal, because I plied them with chocolate muffins, but still…God, I miss those days. Now they always show up to yell for me in various races, and they do a damn good job writing “Go Matt” on my hats and shirts. When I come home with a medal or a trophy, they treat me like an Olympian. It does not get better than that.

  Finally, my wife, Amy Einhorn, has for years indulged my penchant for disappearing for hours to run or to write. She gets me, and that is pure magic.

  About the Author

  MATTHEW FUTTERMAN is deputy sports editor of The New York Times. He has previously worked for The Wall Street Journal, The Philadelphia Inquirer, and the Star-Ledger of New Jersey, where he was a part of the team that won the Pulitzer Prize for Breaking News in 2005. Like a lot of sportswriters, he is something of a frustrated athlete. He was 0-8 in singles for his college tennis team in 1991. He grew up in Larchmont, New York, and graduated from Mamaroneck High School, Union College, and Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism. He also attended the creative writing program at the University of Arkansas. He lives in New York with his wife and children. In his spare time he runs marathons. He is starting to understand why.

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