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arathons may be conducted with the approval of the National Chairman.” With that single line on page 80 of the 1971-1972 Addendum to the Amateur Athletic Union (AAU) Handbook under Track and Field Rule Changes—Women, the crack began to open slightly. After years of knocking on the governing body’s door, the National AAU Women’s Track and Field Committee finally adopted this language, which allowed women to officially compete in road distances longer than 10K and 10 miles. Soon that door would no longer be on its hinges.

The initial “approval” did come with some caveats, however, as women were instructed by the committee chairwoman, Patricia “Pat” Rico, to start 10 minutes before the men and not on the same start line. But when 240 men lined up for the 1971 New York City Marathon and for the first time were joined by official female entrants, they found five women who had waited those 10 minutes in order to start in one unifying race. Seven months later at the 1972 Boston, a larger mix of veterans and rookies toed the line in Patricia Barrett, Sara Mae Berman, Ginny Collins, Nina Kuscsik, Frances Morrison, Elaine Pedersen (Koverman), Valerie Rogosheske, and Kathrine Switzer (sometimes reported as Kathy Miller, as she was then married to Tom Miller).

For the 40th anniversary of the long overdue watershed moment on that Patriots’ Day Monday, the octet was honored at the 2012 Boston Marathon. “There were people—some of whom [ran the 1972 Boston]—who worked very hard to change that [injustice]. A group of pioneers who led to a situation now where we have more than 40 percent of our field as women runners,” said Boston Athletic Association (B.A.A.) Executive Director Tom Grilk.

Kuscsik, the first official women’s winner at Boston, recalls having earlier been told by Berman about the AAU’s stance that women could not run more than five miles. Along with Switzer and others, that jump-started Kuscsik to make a change. “

I went to the AAU convention, I worked hard to establish a long-distance running committee for women, I put in legislation so that women could run mara44 l MARATHON & BEYOND l March/April 2013

Photo by Fay Foto; courtesy of the B.A.A.

thons. And they said, ‘OK, women can run up to 10 miles, and certain women could run the marathon.’ But we had to start at a different starting line and starting time from the men. We drew a starting line on the sidewalk, and we just started wherever we wanted,” she laughs. “And when I worked to change the rules so we could run a women’s marathon, then we thought we really should have a marathon in the Olympics. Seeing Joanie Samuelson finish the [1984] Olympic marathon [in first] was the high point of my running career.”

Switzer, who in 1967 was the first woman to run Boston with an official number (having registered as K. V. Switzer) and subsequently “met” race official Jock Semple on the course in front of the media en route to history, also made it her focus to include women as official entrants worldwide. “

While Nina was doing legislation, I was doing races,” she noted of the teamwork. “I organized—thanks to Avon cosmetics—a whole series of global races, eventually 400 of them in 27 countries for over a million women. And in those different countries then, we could legislate the different athletic federations to come on [board] for the Olympic Games.”

Women knew they could run 26.2 miles. It was already a proven point. In Boston, in particular, there were Roberta “Bobbi” Gibb (1966-68), Switzer (1967, 1970-71), Pedersen (1968-69), Marjorie Fish (1968), Berman (1969-71), Kuscsik (1968-71), Sandra Zerrangi (1970), and Diane Fournier (1970). And according to

▲ The inaugural group of eight official female entrants from the 1972 Boston Marathon were honored at various 40th anniversary events at the 2012 Boston, including at the Boston Athletic Association’s Champions’ Breakfast where, from left, Sara Mae Berman, Nina Kuscsik, Pat Barrett, Valerie Rogosheske, and Kathrine Switzer received their bib names. Also recognized were Ginny Collins and Frances Morrison, who the B.A.A. could not locate, and the late Elaine Pedersen.

the Association of Road Racing Statisticians (ARRS), for marathons there was an estimate of at least 450 female finishers (235 in the US) in the 10 years leading up to the 1972 Boston. But with all eyes upon them in 1972, especially in Boston, the tightknit sisterhood had one unmistakable goal—to finish. “

The early women runners had an unwritten pact that they had to be trained enough to finish, because it was still hanging over us—even after we were legal—that it could be taken away if we proved ourselves unworthy,” said Berman. “We had to finish. And I don’t know if we ever talked about it to each other, but we all sort of understood intuitively that we had to train well enough so we could finish. I think the first person who didn’t finish had a sprained ankle, so that was OK. That was a legitimate reason.”

Role models There were so few women in the sport at the time these trailblazers were beginning their running that Switzer’s role model was actually the late Dame Margot Fonteyn de Arias, the great classical ballerina of the Royal Ballet in England. “

She took something that is extremely difficult and made it beautiful, and I always thought that running is incredibly heroic. I love the whole Greek image of it. I love the heroicness of Pheidippides. I love the quest of something that is impossible to do,” Switzer said. “It was all these combinations that led me to the marathon, and she was my athletic role model.”

For Rogosheske, however, it was someone closer to the sport. “Kathrine was my role model,” she said in front of Switzer, who was warmly surprised. “I was living in Minnesota, and we didn’t have women participating in sports at that point, and I had read about that famous incident at the Boston Marathon. And then we were living in DC, and I was a physical education teacher and couldn’t even finish a mile. So that’s why I decided to jog and train.”

Barrett also points to Switzer as well as Kuscsik as inspirations for an impressionable teenage girl. “They were great. They encouraged me with races in New York, like the Crazylegs Mini-Marathon [later]. They helped me. All those things were really special to me,” she said.

Kuscsik found a connection when she saw a picture of the Boston Marathon in the May 1968 issue of Long Distance Log magazine. Intentionally obscured within a small enclosure of male spectators near the start line was someone with whom she would serendipitously share that same starting line four years later. The photo caption read, “Elaine Pedersen, who flew in from San Francisco with boyfriend Pax Beale just for the marathon, hides in crowd that is lining the course minutes before the race gets under way. She joined the pack as it passed and finished in about 4:30.”

Male support The women pointed to the support they received from men in their lives—husbands, boyfriends, fathers, coaches—and from male runners as a crucial element in their progress and acceptance. “

I wasn’t being very motivated,” said Rogosheske, “and so my husband said, ‘You need a goal. Why don’t you train for a race?’ And the Boston Marathon was the only race I ever heard of,” she laughs, “so I started training for that race.”

Barrett was in high school at the time, and there was a lack of track teams for girls. But fortunately for her, she found support from a number of people, including the boys’ cross-country coach. “He encouraged me to run with the boys team,” Barrett said. “We had the state championship coming up—I was a miler—and the most important thing he told me was, ‘This [running] is for the rest of your life. Go out and do it. Look at it as a lifelong thing, not just one race.’”

Berman good-naturedly blames her spouse for introducing her to running. “It was my husband’s fault,” she said with a chuckle. “He was a runner in high school and in college, and he got a lot of pleasure out of doing it. He thought it was something that I could do and I could feel good about. When I finally ran two miles around a track, I said, ‘Whew. I’m done.’ And he said, ‘Now you’ve got to run a little faster.’”

When he signed up for a five-mile handicap race, she joined in and ran. “The guys were absolutely wonderful. I started on the starting line with two little boys and two older men, and as the faster runners passed me, they were all very encouraging and very nice. And the officials didn’t mind me—I wasn’t wearing a number,” Berman said.

Added Switzer, “I must say this—the men in running have always been wonderful. You hear the story about Jock tackling me, but that was an anomaly, and he was a man trying to protect his race—that’s another story. But the men running have always been wonderful to us. They gave us encouragement, motivation, and help.”

Female nonsupport Surprisingly, female runners did not receive as much support from their own sex as you might imagine. It was not automatic that women would support women. This movement of athletic freedom and empowerment seemed to go against some of their upbringing. It scared some of them, especially those who were not athletic and could not understand that mind-set. “One of the things that was very sad for me was that in general, the ordinary woman was not supportive,” Switzer observed. “Women were not very supportive in general. Unfortunately, the only time people tried to run me off the road were

actually women. I remember I asked my coach [about it], and he said, ‘Oh, they’re just afraid. You’re free and they’re not free.’ I thought, All they have to do is put on a pair of shoes. There’s going to come a day when it’s going to be reversed.”

Fortunately, at Boston, there was some female support. For years, obviously, race officials did not have to look for women. But when they began to join in, such as when Gibb first ran in 1966, it took some time before she was recognized for who she was in order to record her unofficial finish time. But as more women began to run, they were not alone. “

After the women began running, some of the wonderful old men who kept time at the finish were not quite sure if a girl had short hair and was very slim or if it was a girl or a boy. So it made a difference when Gloria Ratti and Bev Whitney came to the finish line and helped time the women,” Berman said in reference to Ratti, a current vice president of the B. A. A. board of governors and to Whitney, who was an AAU/TAC board member. “They didn’t miss any of the women.”

Kuscsik recalls those instances. When she ran the 1969 Boston, she was concerned about getting her finish time, so she devised a simple plan that turned out to be unnecessary. “That was my first road race ever, and I knew we weren’t official. But as I was crossing the finish line, I looked at one of the male runners next to me and tried to see his number so I could find out what my official finish time was,” she said. “And when I crossed the finish line, there was Gloria keeping track of the women runners’ times.”

Getting to Boston Heading into history, Kuscsik, Switzer, Berman, and Pedersen carried with them the most experience with a combined 40 marathons and 22 wins. In fact, in the 1971 ARRS World Marathon Rankings, Kuscsik was ranked third with a 2:56:04 (New York City), Berman was eighth with a 3:04:40 (Bay State Marathon, Massachusetts), and Switzer was 15th with a 3:15:28 (First Trust Marathon, New York). “

Nina and Sara became, really, media icons in terms of the fact that they won over the media by their performances. They got better and better and better, and soon the media were keeping records of these performances,” said Switzer. “It was no longer just ‘girls out running’; we were recognized as athletes.”

And according to ARRS records, Barrett, the kid of the group at 17 (well under the Boston age limit of 19), had already run two marathons—both in 1972. In January, she won the Jersey Shore Marathon in New Jersey, and in March, she was second to Kuscsik at the Earth Day Marathon in New York. Morrison had only one marathon under her belt—the March 1972 Oil Capital Marathon in Oklahoma. And both Rogosheske and Collins made their marathon debut at the 1972 Boston.

History in Hopkinton Accommodations for women also were lacking, but with someone like Ratti on their side, the increasing female field was assured of at least some kind and friendly assistance. She was always there, especially at the start in Hopkinton when that sisterhood would come together. “

Who will forget Gloria at the church when we finally had a place, a gathering point. Gloria was always there with her radio, giving us weather reports; and she had tissues and sanitary products, and [was] running around and mother-henning us, and saying, ‘Come on, girls, come on! Let’s go!’ She was fantastic,” Switzer said. “She was always there for us, and she’s still there for us.”

Rogosheske, who couldn’t finish even a mile when she began to run but who trained hard for Boston, had heard that it was common for women to jump into the race, as Gibb had. So she was prepared to do just that. “

I had read and heard on TV and seen other reports of Kathrine and Bobbi and other women who had hidden in the bushes to run. So that was my plan,” she said. “But then about two weeks before the race, I heard that we could register. So I registered and ended up on the line with these lovely women.”

At Boston Half of the women had already run Boston. But that familiarity with the race did not seem to matter when it came to the emotions that accompanied finally being an official entrant in 1972. “

We worked so hard. It was very exciting to be official,” noted Kuscsik. “Boston really welcomed us.” Switzer, having already secured a place in Boston Marathon lore five years earlier, certainly recognized the historic meaning of this occasion. “

When the turning point came in ’72 and we were made official, stepping over that starting line in 1972, we knew we were stepping into history, as surely as our suffragette mothers had won the right to vote or to integrate universities for women,” she said. “It was a dramatic moment. And for us as athletes, it was fantastic because we had worked so hard. And so finally, we weren’t there just carrying the banner for the whole female sex. We were there running as athletes.”

Entering the 1972 Boston, Berman already had eight marathon victories, including three “wins” at Boston and the 1970 Road Runners Club of America (RRCA) National Women’s Marathon Championship in Atlantic City. She was ready for her home-state 42K. But all was not well for her. “

It was official, and I wanted to run very badly. Unfortunately, I had a slight fever—a flu or something—but I just had to come,” she said. “It wiped me out from competition for the next year. That’s not a very smart thing to do, but it was a very special time.”

© Bettmann/CORBIS

▲ In Hopkinton, moments before the start of the historic 76th Boston Marathon on April 17, 1972, are gathered, from left, Nina Kuscsik (F2), Kathrine Switzer (F6), Elaine Pedersen (F3), Ginny Collins (F5), Pat Barrett (F4), Frances Morrison (F10), and Sara Mae Berman (F1). Not pictured is Valerie Rogosheske, who wore bib F7.

Added Barrett, “It was a great experience. It was wonderful. And it was so exciting to be in Boston and to have the privilege to run the Boston Marathon. Nina really encouraged me to be there. Kathrine and I ran some races in New York prior to Boston. And I had a lot of help from my male friends from the Shore Athletic Club.”

Clothing Unlike today, with size-specific sports bras, more narrow-width shoes, and fitted tops and sweats, the clothing line for female runners back then was primarily what the men wore. With very few exceptions, women had to wear outfits that were formed for men. “

In those days, they didn’t have any specialty clothing,” said Barrett. “We had the Jersey Shore Marathon in the winter, so I went to the sporting goods store to get something to wear for my legs. And the only thing they had was what they use for skiing,” she laughs. “I had to wear something!”

Women’s shoes at the time also lacked proper support, comfort, and traction. Rogosheske wore a pair of orienteering shoes from Sweden but eventually picked up the more running-friendly Tiger Marathon shoes. And Switzer trained in canvas

PF Flyers and Keds, whose soles doubled as sleds in the winter. “I’d be sliding all over the place,” she laughed. At the 1972 Boston, Pedersen wore a singlet and shorts; Collins and Barrett had sleeveless running-club shirts and shorts; Morrison and Berman wore shortsleeve T-shirts and shorts; Switzer was neck to ankle in long-sleeve black tights, highlighted by a white wraparound nod to ancient Greek athletes; and Kuscsik sported a short-sleeve, five-button, collared blouse and bike shorts. “

The reason I wore a blouse was because I had a problem with my shoulder and I could hang my thumb on my bra [in front] with the buttons down,” she laughs. Four decades later, Rogosheske was reminded of the trail she had helped blaze when her daughters ran their first marathon together and she coached them through some injuries. “

I said, ‘Now, remember, you two, don’t be silly. If something’s hurting, quit.’ And my younger daughter said, ‘Mom, you ran 40 years ago to give us the option to quit,’” she said with a proud smile. For the record, the results of the 76th Boston Marathon on April 17, 1972, are as follows: 1. Nina Kuscsik (3:10:26), 2. Elaine Pedersen (3:20:25), 3. Kathrine Switzer (3:29:51), 4. Patricia Barrett (3:40:29), 5. Sara Mae Berman (3:48:30), 6. Valerie Rogosheske (4:29:32), 7. Ginny Collins (4:48:32), 8. Frances Morrison (5:07:00), DNS (did not start) Charlotte Lettis (Richardson).