My alarm clock burst my sweet dreams. I somersaulted out of bed and shuffled like a zombie to my nightstand to turn it off. It was 6:25 a.m. Without turning on a light in my apartment I began picking out the perfect outfit for a run around campus that would begin in 35 minutes.
I laced up my old white Reebok running shoes and wondered how I even got up that early. I got a shot of adrenaline, and then I tried to put myself in another pair of shoes that were probably simultaneously being laced with mine: Frank Brogan’s.
Brogan left FAU for Tallahassee on Sept. 11. But before he could leave, the students and staff wanted one final goodbye. So they organized a run around campus with the new chancellor of the Florida State University System.
I was among that group. We ran the route that Brogan ran every morning. But on this last loop he had a good following. So that’s why I was up early, and if I felt partially exuberant, then how did Brogan feel?
I arrived at the Baldwin House parking lot with time to spare. I felt well-prepared for Brogan’s last run, considering I’ve actually been running the same exact route for the last two years that I’ve lived on campus. The president and I run it at quite different times, considering my late nights, but nevertheless, without sun it all looks the same.
Before I could even get comfortable standing in front of the main entrance, Brogan emerged from the house with a burst of air that felt like an igloo compared to the humid conditions we faced outside.
“Good morning,” said Brogan in his usual gracious tone. “Everybody stretched and ready to go?”
And with a unanimous nod from the group of participants, we were off.
The police escort opened the gates at the front of the property for us. Determined to never leave Brogan’s shadow, I kept pace always one step behind him, letting the president lead his run, yet close enough to absorb his view.
Brogan seemed most concerned with Jose Herrera, an FAU alumnus and events coordinator for University Advancement, because he seemed to be at the back of the pack from the start.
“Jose! How you doing?” shouted Brogan as we turned from FAU Boulevard onto Lee Street.
“I’m still here!” Jose yelled back to the amusement of the runners.
The run had four stops, the first being the Alumni Center. As we passed stop one, Associate Dean of Students Terry Mena joined the joggers and shook Brogan’s hand to thank him for all he’s done for FAU. The sincerity in Mena’s voice echoed the appreciation of the runners behind him who weren’t voicing their thoughts.
Whether we all realized what was happening at the same time, or we were all just out of breath, the crowd seemed to quiet after that. There was a portion of the run during which you could tell Brogan was at home one last time. Looking around, he soaked in FAU. If there were a word for someone’s expression that mixes together satisfaction, pride, spirit, a new beginning and yet a loss of a great home, that word would paint a picture of Brogan’s face as we rounded toward Broward Avenue and the athletic facilities.
More students joined in at the second and third stops, in front of the Student Union and Heritage Park Towers parking lots, including Student Body President Tiffany Weimar.
The cameras filmed our epic journey from a golf cart driving ahead of the pack, catching Brogan working up a sweat.
But I knew the sweat from this run was small compared to what he has done for my university and education since he’s been here, pouring his sweat and time into making sure FAU gets better every year.
Finally, spectators waved from cars, sidewalks and bus stops as we passed the student apartments and made a right back onto 20th Street. I was glad it was almost over; I hadn’t done this run in a while, and I would have hated it to be “Chuck’s last run.”
“Come on, no slackers,” yelled Brogan in a fatherly tone as we ran up the Baldwin House driveway. “All the way to the door,” he proclaimed.
In a flurry of breaths, I had done what our president has done every morning while I was sleeping in my bed, never knowing that, outside my window at Indian River Towers, Brogan was welcoming another day at the crack of dawn. It felt great.
Inside the Baldwin House the participants munched on bagels, fruit and juice as Brogan went around and talked to the media and everyone in the room, trying to find the right words to convey his thankfulness. Savoring the mood, I shook Brogan’s hand one last time and said the only thing I felt was appropriate: “Thank you.”
Brogan’s wife, Courtney, and son, Colby John, left for Tallahassee on Sept. 10, the same day as the run. Brogan spent one more night here in Boca before saying goodbye to his alma mater and heading upstate.
