It was Howard who introduced me to Greg in South Florida in December ’97. He met us at the airport, but before meeting Greg, I was introduced to the trunk of his car. A microcosm of his life replete with all his triathlon gear, including several pairs of sneakers, whose stench, if the winds turned north, could be smelt all the way up to Monroe.
 

I spent the week hearing about Greg’s numerous marathons, his dreams of competing in the Ironman (he then went on to completed three), his swimming in the shark-infested waters around Key West, as well as all his intellectual pursuits. In a strange way he was doing all the physical activities I dreamed about but that my work and other responsibilities, not to mention my comparatively small frame, precluded me from doing.
 

At the time, he was working for the Florida Bar, where he argued several cases in front of the same Florida Supreme Court that heard the 2000 presidential ballot irregularity hearings. He also taught Hebrew school and coached first time marathoners on behalf of the Leukemia Society of America.
 

It was Greg who sparked my interest in running, and since I have completed two NYC marathons, where I raised over $25,000 for Cancer Research at Memorial Sloan Kettering. I owe it to Gregg, and he’ll need all the credits he can muster up as he stands before the pearly gates, because you don’t become Gregg Wenzel without making a few infractions.
 

The week included more than hearing about Gregg’s past experiences it also included cooking up some new ones. Like many, or perhaps most, Wenzelian adventures they would be best left to those that were there.
 

I was in awe of the energy this guy possessed. Although we were the ones on vacation, Gregg would stay out with us until the wee hours and after a few hours sleep would start his routine. He would complete 100 laps before 6:00am, then head to the office, and around 4:00 would go out for a light run of perhaps 6 or 10 miles. At the time he was doing the Galloway method of a walk run combination and it was this training that was so indicative of his personality. He was not in it for the speed nor to have a more trim physic, but rather to prove to himself and those around him that he could go further than anyone would imagine a square 240 lb behemoth could go.
 

Gregg and I stayed in close contact until he moved to Washington. Since then I’ve only received a few messages or indirect hellos. He kept a veil on his activities these past few years. In a strange way I think he enjoyed the secrecy. But I’d prefer not to dwell on this, nor to express the empty felling he has left behind. It’s not what Greg would have wanted.
 

He would only want us to remember the stories and carry the Wenzelian torch, as well as all his mantras, wherever our journeys may lead.