Thomas Fraser

Bringing forward an older runner bio posted on social media in October 2023.

I’d like to introduce Thomas Fraser. A brilliant kid we all need in our lives.

As a rule, I’ve tried not to let kids down. I’ve let many adults down, regrettably, and I wish I could undo those missteps – reassess what led me to make those decisions and try to be better.

It’s something I need to work and focus on. Be better to those who deserve it.

With kids, it’s always been easier. Not sure why, but my willingness to dive in and ignore everything else, willfully bypass conventional wisdom, allows me to ignore the signposts of adulthood that internally tell you, “Stop. Go back and finish that report. Stop. Get moving so you aren’t rushing into a meeting just as the clock hits the established time. Stop. Think about your responsibilities”. But as I’m outside throwing the frisbee with Eliot or Amir, all of those conversations get quiet. My resolve to do the professional thing, dims and I stay for a few more throws. I listen to the banter that occurs when playing is upon us. I feel the sun for a bit longer. I’ll get there and it will be ok. They’ll accept this. Is what I rely on. A false and irresponsible currency, I know, but it’s how I’ve squared it with myself and too often convince myself that it was the correct course of action.

I let Thomas Fraser down. I told him we were going to do something, something special and important. We talked about it and prepared. We spoke of the moment that would arrive and how best to appreciate and exercise that opportunity. He showed up with a shirt and tie. He asked if I could tie his tie. We went to the celebration of our most recent Street2Peak expedition, and he was nervous about how it was going to go. Thomas has not done this before. He accepted the invitation to speak for an entire team. To speak about his experience and those around him. To tell the crowd what it meant to train for months in the hopes of making the cut, being asked to join us on a great adventure. To document how hard this trip was, how rigorous and draining it could be. To speak of the highs but to not shy away from the lows, and the lows were real, they were painful and discomforting. To talk about the community and friendships that were born from sharing such profound moments. To speak about being a kid who never really felt comfortable in school. To explain, without telling, what it’s like being a kid who has been pushed down by schools, families, teachers, authorities, life. To nervously accept that you were chosen, from everyone one else, to tell this story.

Unfortunately, Thomas didn’t get to do any of those things. Instead, he got to sit there as the auditorium emptied, fielding questions about why he didn’t speak, trying to assemble what just happened. I knew as soon as the lights came up that I had forgot Thomas. Instantly. He walked by and I understood. He didn’t say anything, he just walked away accepting that this is how adults work – they will sell you something, convince you that it’s going to happen and then it doesn’t. Excuses will be made, manipulations attempted but that means nothing. Instead, he will go inside himself, steel his pride and disappointment and chalk it up to just another ride to Quesnel that didn’t happen, another expected trip to the Powwow that didn’t materialize, another celebration where he as the keynote speaker was forgotten about. That suitcase is full, but Thomas can always make room for another disappointment – it’s how you get through life.

Thomas is a remarkable young man. He is indelible. A true original. He has ran every 10 km, half marathon and full marathon wearing his DIY, punk rock, jean jacket vest. He’s a natural storyteller, who finds respite in detailing his immersion in the world around him – be it good or bad stories. He has faced incredible hardships in his schooling – combative, destructive things that have made him naturally guarded and distrustful. He lives with an invasive dietary condition that doesn’t allow him to process any proteins, forcing him to live like the strictest of vegans, with many of his essentials coming from a lab. He has grown up this way, not being able to share in the moment with everyone else. We, lazily, use food as a treat, a reward, a reason for gathering and sharing. In those situations, Thomas is always on the outside. How many times has the treat been buying pizza for the class, only to have the person responsible remembering at the last moment of Thomas and scrounging something together, be it some grapes or vegetables that nobody else in the school wanted? Thomas accepts the scraps and acknowledges the effort but its inevitably unsatisfying. It’s another example of Thomas being an afterthought.

Our first two days of school together were not overly positive. He was prepared to fight. He was ready for it, almost willing it on just to get it over with. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t even know him. He lost the will to fight after a few days, maybe weeks. We provided evidence that we in fact were going to listen to him, work with him and earn his trust. His defenses started to lower. His efforts started to rise. He came out to a post-Covid 10 km run and won the 18 and under jean jacket wearing division. He was proud of his accomplishment. We established a means of working together in the classroom. He responded with greater engagement, more rigour. He started to recognize he had a role in our school – kind of like an elder statesperson. A sage being who had been there and done that. That role suited him. Soon he was actively working to make our school better – eyes up, trying to find what work needed to be done, finding those students who needed help. First to step up, last to leave.

Thomas has always had to be independent – life brought him there, and in congruence with that, he sought employment. His brother knew of work on a construction site, so that became the job. He needed steel-toed boots, so we bought those for him (with SHLF money). He relentlessly goes to the job site on the weekends and on the odd school day (he always asks if its ok) trying to lessen the burden for those around him.

He has committed himself fully to Streetfront. He has a brilliant mind that is curious and probing. He has run every race we sign him up for (as I’m writing this, he’s preparing to run Victoria tomorrow morning). He chose to train for months to be selected for the Street2Peak trip to Newfoundland this past summer. He’s now an avid snowboarder and skilled outdoor adventurer. He’s comfortable in a canoe, kayak or stand-up paddleboard. He’s confident, proud, resourceful and forgiving. I came up to him after the celebration. I admitted my error and apologized profusely. He was disappointed and maybe embarrassed, but he let me off the hook. His graciousness making my guilt feel even worse.

I was talking to Brandon Steele about Thomas on the ferry today and I said of all the qualities I admire in him, I think his willingness to forgive a world that has not treated him as well as he deserves, is the most impressive. He could still be that angry and disillusioned boy I first met, but he isn’t. He’s a man now. When he walked in to Streetfront he was known as TJ. That was the name everyone called him. Thomas didn’t want to be TJ; he had outgrown it. His name was Thomas. Thomas Fraser. I asked if he wanted to go to the Britannia office and officially change it in the system. He said he did. As Janet entered the new appropriate name in the corner, the final vestige of that former self molted off. Thomas, not TJ, left. I was proud to be beside him.

I’d like to introduce Thomas Fraser, a Streetfront original. He will be at the SHLF run on October 15th running the 10 km race. He will finish and then look around to see what needs to be done. He will offer himself up selflessly and caringly. He will not disappoint. He never does.

Please join us on Sunday October 15th at Handsworth Secondary in North Vancouver for the 15th annual Strachan Hartley Legacy Foundation charity 5 and 10 km run. All proceeds from this incredible charity go directly to Streetfront and Britannia Secondary students.

I hope you can make it out. Say hi to Thomas, not TJ, when you see him.