My husband Fraser and I were a year ahead of Mark at Stanford GSB. Through our shared enthusiasm for cross-country running we three became friends. In the spring of 1988, Mark, Fraser, our friend Catherine (Stanford Law School '89) and I traveled together to the majestic redwoods of Northern California to run the Avenue of the Giants marathon. We drove up the day before the race in Fraser's beater of an early-1970-something Peugeot station wagon. (The front passenger side door was sealed shut. Whoever rode shotgun had to climb out the driver's side door. The hydraulics for the hatch-back had failed so, when loading or unloading, one had to prop a stick to hold the trunk open. This resulted in a few near-concussions.) It wasn't until we arrived that night that it occurred to any of us that we should have booked rooms in advance. What were we thinking? Every motel and hotel had a "no vacancy" sign prominently displayed. It was late. We were getting desperate. We stopped at one last place to inquire about lodging. We were shocked to discover that they had a room available. Apparently a man had travelled from Holland for the race. He stopped in New York City on his way to the race and somehow had gotten killed. The hotel matron was offering us his room. It all felt very sad and creepy but we were also immensely grateful. It was very bizarre. So the four of us ended up in a room with a single queen-size bed. I don't recall who ended up where but it was hardly a good night's sleep for any of us. Race day was cool and beautiful. The course consisted of gently rolling hills through the redwood trees. The air was intoxicating. All four of us finished the race. It was the first marathon (and only!) that Fraser, Catherine and I had ever run. I am not sure about Mark. Once we had all crossed the finish line, we circulated in the post-race area, had some snacks and then piled back into the Peugeot for the long drive back to campus. The image of Mark that stays in my mind is of him passed out peacefully in his running clothes, stretched out with a blanket in the way-back of the station wagon.
top of page
bottom of page