Brandon Gomez, NY
A passionate multimedia reporter based in New York City, Brandon grew up in Connecticut and headed to Massachusetts where he earned his B.A. in English and Theatre at the College of the Holy Cross. Over the years, Brandon has collected many personas — actor, singer, runner, volunteer, traveler. At the core of every experience and encounter, he is committed to hearing and sharing the compelling stories of those he meets. He is currently working towards his M.A. in Multimedia Journalism at New York University.
As a Story Terrace writer, Brandon interviews customers and turns their life stories into books. Get to know him better by reading his autobiographical anecdote below.
Pick Up the Pace
200 miles. 32 Hours. 12 Runners. 2 Vans. 1 Relay Race.
The neon orange bracelet wrapped itself tightly around my wrist, signaling it was time to run my third and final leg. But this time the band gripped tighter and I felt the jolting sensation of my heart-beat with each stride.
Some are naturally born runners, but my ability to run isn’t something I inherited from the genetic lottery. Growing up, the one-mile Physical Fitness Test was definitively the worst day of the year. Always last to finish, I was lucky if I clocked in under 14-minutes, yet there I was several years later completing my first long-distance relay race.
As I ran, my thoughts kept coming back to the same question, “How did I get myself into this?”
“Brandon, we’re running the Cape Cod Ragnar Relay Race and we need one more runner. You just ran a marathon, right?”
“Yea, but I was thinking about taking a break from…”
“Great! It’s 200 miles. Don’t worry though…you’ll only run about 23. We start in Hull and finish in Provincetown. We’re going to be living out of a van for two days, so pack light. Oh…bring baby wipes and plenty of snacks because there won’t be time to shower or stop for food.”
“Right. I remember now.”
I looked down at my muddy green laces knotted tightly around my feet, and suddenly stepped into a stride where I felt like I was floating. Every move became perfect and smooth as if I were skating on ice. I felt like I could go on forever and nothing could break me. Just like that my final leg was over and the wristband once fused to my arm was now passed to my teammate. I knew the pain and cramping would soon set in, but my mind turned to the little boy who could barely run a mile. He is my motivation and constant reminder to pick up the pace.
Get in touch today to work with Brandon!
As a Story Terrace writer, Brandon interviews customers and turns their life stories into books. Get to know him better: you can read an autobiographical story of his own below. Get in touch today to work with her!