2009 07 24 dario melaragni

Susan Donnelly Ultramarathon Trail Runner. Motivational Speaker. http://www.susanruns100s.com

Dario Melaragni Date : July 24, 2009

You meet a lot of special people in this sport. The challenge naturally attracts those reaching high, trying to better themselves, or testing what they’re made of, and the shared experience of a race breaks down the barriers between us.

When I first met Dario, it was obvious he was special even for this group. Rob and I had entered this year’s West Highland Way, a race I’d dreamed of running for at least ten years but never thought would be possible. Rob, bless him, took the initiative and entered us, though a bit late, and we wound up on the waiting list. Dario was the race director. He e-mailed regularly to let us know we were moving up on the list and it was clear we were in good hands. He knew we’d be travelling from the US and needed to make reservations as early as possible, so he let us know as soon as he could that we were in. We sent in our payment and he asked us to go

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ahead and send our info to him – address, birthdate, shirt size, etc. I sent it. All very cut and dry, the usual stuff with no need for a reply, but four days later, his name appeared in my inbox.

Worried that I’d left out some detail or that we’d neglected to submit something we should have, I quickly opened up the message to read… “happy birthday in advance lol.” He’d noticed my birthday was ten days away and had taken the time to send me a smile and laugh. That’s how I remember Dario.

We e-mailed sporadically over the months leading up to the race in June…questions to Dario…immediate replies back. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he made the race possible for us.

When we finally got to meet him in person, the evening of the race (the race starts at 1:00 am), Rob and I were a bit dazed with it all – new race in a different country in an unfamiliar town with lots of unfamiliar faces. Dario was darting around the room where the racers were checking in, overseeing details and making sure everyone was taken care of as the clock was ticking down and the tension rising – but once we were introduced, he tuned the mounting whirl of noise and people out for a few minutes to talk with us and personally make sure we weighed in, got our swag bag (with the right size shirts), got our ID bracelets, and all the other little details. A few minutes with his enthusiasm and smile was all I needed. Where I had walked in feeling nervous, I left feeling reassured and grounded.

We saw him at several points along the course. I have to laugh remembering how he startled us early on where, totally unrecognizable in a thickly veiled midge hat and standing in a line of onlookers, he greeted us by name (I didn’t even recognize him until we had passed him and Rob told me who it was). We also saw him at various checkpoints along the way, deep in intent and animated conversation with some race helper, here and there in the background,and just generally making sure the race machinery was going well and the runners were all okay. A shepherd herding his sheep to make sure they all safely reached the fold.

It was a wonderful, fantastic race but coming into the finish, Rob was sick and I navigated us to the leisure center…the wrong way. I hadn’t quite grasped that fact before Dario caught sight of us. With a stricken look on his face, he asked us how we’d gotten there and I stuttered it out, immediately assuming I’d cut the course in the last miles of the race. Clearly flustered, Dario said he’d covered the end of the course in the briefing and I agreed that Eric and Wendy, our crew, had even given me directions and I’d made a mistake. I wanted to crawl under a rock, and not because I might have ruined our race – because I’d let Dario down. Somehow you wanted to do your best for him.

I waited to hear him say we were disqualified or had to go back out and finish the right way, even though I wasn’t sure Rob would make it. Instead, he looked as us and said with a smile that it was okay. The next thing I knew, he was quietly and with ceremony presenting us with the finishing whiskey. As he had at the start, he tuned out everyone and everything but Rob and I. It was clearly a special thing to him and more than a simple symbol of crossing the finish line. The honor of being included in this event really hit me. I told Rob later than I wanted to come back and run the race right for Dario.

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At the finish.

At the packed awards ceremony a few hours later, Dario told funny or inspiring personal stories about most every runner as he presented them with the finisher’s goblet. At our turn, he told the audience where we were from and the ridiculous number of ultras Rob has run. It felt so good to be included. Many of the runners knew each other and the event felt like a warm family reunion filled with lots of laughter and mutual respect. My single biggest regret of the entire trip is that we missed the post-race party.

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Telling stories about the runners at the awards ceremony.

After the race, Rob and I talked as we often do about that indefinable “something” some races have. That warm sense of family and camaraderie. Of inclusiveness rather than competitiveness. Those are the races you love to return to year after year, no matter what.

We’re sure this ethos comes from the race directors themselves and it’s clear why everyone wants to run the West Highland Way year after year.

We also marvelled over and over about how lucky we were to have been able to run the race.

Over the years, we’ve seen even well-established races wink out of existence because the race director moves on or something else happens, so we know never to take races, particularly those special ones, for granted.

Still, we never expected this to happen here. Dario died unexpectedly of a suspected heart attack while out trail running with friends the other day, just a few short weeks after the race.

The news hit Rob and I like a brick. He was so intensely alive. How could he be dead? I had

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received an e-mail reply from him just days before. It was still sitting un-filed in my inbox. He’s in my address book, my e-mail, my Blackberry…he’s still here, and yet he’s gone.

He was only 46. My age.

It’s been inspiring and amazing to read the resulting West Highland Way forum postings about Dario. Rob and I met the tip of the iceberg. He had a far wider and deeper effect on runners and people outside the race, and inspired more than his fair share of others to challenge themselves and pursue their dreams.

The energy we put out in the world in our lifetime is like a ripple. Dario’s ripple was like a big, positive wave. His short life was lived to the fullest and though he’ll be missed by many, including me, the world is a much better place for his short presence here. I’m grateful to have had the chance to know him.

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