Letter to the Editors
By WYATT GOLDING ‘02
Dear Exeter,
This letter is a short ode to a coach who fundamentally changed my life, David Weber. Our gang of runners knew him simply as Weber—a single word for a collective hero.
Nearly twenty-one years after graduating from Exeter, my former cross-country teammate called to let me know that Weber had passed. It was a fitting way to find out. Weber had brought us together in the first place—two awkward, skinny, introverted teenagers who couldn’t quite find a home. And we are still friends because of the strength of the team and bonds Weber built. We adored Weber because in a world of ambition and pretension, he spoke quietly, slowly, and humbly (with a charming sprinkle of bone-dry wit). He was rigorous but accepting. Anyone could join the team and fulfill their sports requirement. For those of us who thrived running, Weber was ready with careful training and rigor. Weber created a refuge, consisting of one hot old squash court where we met before practice and endless hours running and chatting through the Exeter woods. He saw the best in us, and we strove to live up to his optimism.
He led by example. He never made a show out of it but always did the right thing because it was the right thing. He provided an alternative model of masculinity for young men struggling to define their own—strength shown by quiet self-confidence and decency, and being resilient and compassionate enough to listen and contemplate that one might be wrong. He helped me find a love of running. Not for cutthroat competition, but to find the joy of pushing your own limits and the reward of perseverance. No matter where I am in the world or how challenging or overwhelming life may be, I escape to the woods and the simplicity of sweat and rhythm and my body. Weber gave me that gift and it has changed my life.
Over the years Weber stayed in touch, following my running in college and watching me run the Boston marathon as an adult. He became a father figure and friend. It seemed natural that when a girlfriend got serious, I’d take her back to Exeter to visit Weber. He traveled all the way to the Olympic Peninsula in Washington to speak at my wedding. And a few years later he sat on the couch while my son read one of his first books to him—forever the patient listener. Days before his death, I received a classic Weber letter, consisting of a folded magazine article he’d read, relevant to my work, with a note scrawled in the corner—just a few thoughtful words and a signature. Twenty-one years later he was still thinking of his former athlete and student. I am forever thankful to have met Weber, for our enduring friendship, and for the community he built for generations of runners like me.
