15. Richard Mandell. The Nazi Olympics. (New York: Macmillan, 1971), 145. 16. Diem-Archives.

17. Organizing Committee for the XI Olympiad Berlin 1936. Official Report. (Berlin, 1937), 1:341-342.

18. Richard Mandell. The Nazi Olympics. (New York: Macmillan, 1971), 240. 19, Leni Riefenstahl. Memoirs. (Munich: Knaus, 1987), 260.

20. Cigaretten-Bilderdienst (ed.). The Olympic Games 1936. (Hamburg-Bahrenfeld, 1936) 2:55.

21. Letter from Gerd Steins, November 21, 1999.

22. Chun-Ae Lin (b. 1969), medium-distance runner, three times champion in the Asia Games of 1986 in Seoul at 17 years old, did not manage to qualify for the final heats in Seoul. i

Chairman MAO’s Unbelievable, Unsurpassable,

and Entirely Enviable Marathon Streak

The Only Thing That Slows Him Down Is His Own Aging.

ong ago, back when I was training for my first marathon, a veteran runner

took me under his wing. I listened to his every command because he was smart, a wizard of splits and finish times. And I watched his every move because he was tough. He had competed in hundreds of marathons and ultras and had completed more than 1,000 training runs of 20 miles or longer. He was, in fact, the reigning big dog of distance running in Northern California. That man’s name is George Crandell.

Unless you’re a member of Six Rivers Running Club (SRROC), it’s unlikely that you’ve ever heard of him. Crandell is not the kind of runner who likes to toot his own horn or burn oxygen bragging about himself. He is, however, an intensely competitive athlete. The mere mention of a track workout causes a frown of concentration to press between his eyes. Talk of an upcoming race sends him rushing for the door, eager to log a few more miles before the competition.

During his 40-plus years as a runner, Crandell has taken quiet joy in chewing up young and old alike. And at age 73, he shows no sign of slowing down. George still logs 45 miles a week, rain or shine, and runs long on the weekends.

Better known as Chairman MAO (marathon and over), Crandell is a retired California State University oceanography professor who lives in the liberal, vegetarian, whale-bothering, tree-hugging town of Arcata, California.

But he’s no laid-back hippie. Far from it. George would rather be stoned to death with hacky sacks than waste a day lazing about with the dreadlocks and patchouli crowd. The man likes to keep moving, for he knows that those who do not move forward must slide inexorably backward.

HIS PENCHANT STARTED YOUNG

Crandell has always been a hard dog to keep on the porch. Even as a teenager he craved competition.

“Tran a little in high school and posted a half-mile PR of 2:19 my senior year,” he said. “In 1951, I was a distance swimmer at Oregon State University. I was just good enough to make the team.”

George began to focus on distance running in the early 1960s, while teaching oceanography at Humboldt State University.

“That job had good flexibility,” he said. “I could always find a couple of hours when I could get a long run in.”

His office was close to the gym. At lunch, George would bolt over to the track for a quick 10 miles and then scoot back in time for his next class.

“Thad colleagues who would say, ‘I don’t have time to run.’ Then they would go for a two-hour lunch.”

George seldom missed a workout. He hit the track every day, like clockwork. And if time allowed, he might squeeze in a second run. The other professors got tired of watching him lace up his shoes.

The hours of training paid off in spades when, in the late 1970s, the running boom hit.

“People say it was Frank Shorter who started it all,” said Crandell. “I think it was a combination of Shorter; Joe Henderson, who wrote about long slow distance; and the introduction of nylon running shoes.”

Along with the increased popularity of running came a swarm of running events and scores of high-quality runners. The competition at local races was instantly ratcheted up several notches. For George, the rivalry was like pure NASA-grade rocket fuel. It gave him more power and an intense desire to train harder. He began to compete in everything from 5Ks to ultras. Crandell’s favorite event, though, was the marathon. It was a race designed specifically for him.

“One of the things I really like about the marathon is that you have to have a plan,” he said. “It’s a thinking person’s race.”

Eureka Jogg’n Shoppe owner Mike Williams recalled taking road trips with George to several marathons.

“In the ’70s, the Seaside Marathon was pretty well known, especially with its team competition,” said Williams. “George never missed that race. We called him Mr. Seaside.”

A WELL-EARNED TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP

A high point for SRRC took place in 1978, when it won the club championship at Seaside, beating the Oregon Track Club and a top Canadian team. Williams, an Arcata High student at the time, competed in that race.

“George was the alternate fourth man on the team,” he said. “Chris Cole, who won the Trinidad-to-Clam Beach that year, ran 2 hours, 22 minutes. Gorden Innes ran 2:24, and Chris Spire ran 2:26. Ron Hill was also in the race, battling SRRC for third place. I got his autograph.”

Crandell was running on a pulled hamstring and finished in 3:49. He later ran a marathon PR of 2:44 that same year.

“He used to run 2:50 marathons regularly in the ’70s,” noted Williams. “He’s run 25 of them in under three hours.”

The marathon is a race for those who are regimented in their training. Williams believes this is the reason Crandell was so consistent at the distance.

“He’s very traditional,” said Mike. “He likes his training runs to have names: the Jackson Loop, the West End Run. He loved the Trinidad-to-Clam Beach Run. George was bummed out when the race was taken away by the city of Trinidad and the course was changed from 8 1/2 miles to 8 3/4.”

Mike’s father, Forrest, describes chairman MAO as being almost bullheaded when it came to sticking to what he believes.

“He was always in charge of the 20-milers,” said Forrest, who trained regularly with George. “He decided where we were going. He made the Sunday runs popular and got other professors to come along.”

“To earn Crandell’s respect was a big thing,” said Mike. “In ’85, I ran a 1:06 half-marathon (the Ass-to-Ass) in Santa Rosa. The next day I ran a 30:46 10K at the Pacific Sun race. George told me, ‘You should be able to run a sub-2:20 marathon with times like that.’ I was on cloud nine.”

Big mileage wasn’t just an option for marathoners back then, it was a must. Crandell was logging 120-plus miles a week. Run hard and long, that was his philosophy. Then you will be able to take the heat when the kitchen gets warm.

“When George trained, it was 50-mile weekends,” said Forrest. “He would run 20 miles on Saturday and 30 on Sunday. Sometimes he would slip in an extra long run on the weekend.”

In an effort to keep up with his partner, Forrest would sneak in a few secret training runs of his own.

“One year I ran 37 miles on Thanksgiving Day,” said Forrest. “I figured it was a good time to get in a long run on him.”

SOME ULTRA EXPERIENCE

George also experimented with ultramarathons, sometimes successfully, other times not. The toughest ultradistance for him was 50 miles. “T see it as a long, hard marathon,” he said. “If you hit The Wall at 30 miles, you still have 20 to go. If you’re having a really hard day, it’s tough.” Crandell’s fastest 50-miler was in 1975, on a loop course set up near his home on the Arcata Bottoms. He blistered the distance in 5 hours, 51 minutes. He was 42 years old at the time.

“T was on a roll,” he recalled. “I kept thinking I had a faster one in me, and I probably didn’t.”

As a result of that 50-miler and in hopes of breaking the over-40 American record of Ted Corbitt (5:35), George competed in other 50-mile races. But the fickle finger of fate often turns like a roulette wheel. It’s hard to tell where it will stop.

“I DNF’d six 50-milers,” said George. “I put all my effort into that distance, and the wheels would come off at about 35 miles.”

He remembered a particular 50-miler that he DNF’d in Grants Pass, Oregon.

“Right after turning 50, I looked at the list of performances and saw the American record for my age group was 6:15,” he said. “I bet myself that I could do that. I did, for 47 miles.”

Crandell challenged himself in other ultra events. At age 53, he ran 100 miles on the Humboldt State University track in 15 hours, 48 minutes, and became the third-fastest American male over 50 to do so. He considers that 100-miler to be one of his best ultras ever.

“T’d been doing marathons for years and had never run a 100-miler,” he said. “T’d never run more than 35 miles in a workout.”

His favorite ultra is the Arcata to Willow Creek Run. This 40-mile race, held on a section of Highway 299 in Northern California, is considered by many local runners to be the Leona Helmsley of distance events: hilly, tough, and mean. George has completed the race 16 times, more than anyone else. He also holds the record for DNFs (6).

One of Crandell’s most memorable Arcata to Willow Creek races was a DNF at 37 miles.

“Tcouldn’t even walk the last three miles downhill to the finish,” he recalled. “It was like someone hit me on the head and said, ‘You can’t do this anymore.’”

COMPETITORS TOUGHER THAN THE COURSES

The toughest competitor George has ever run against on the Willow Creek course was Bill Daniel, a professor of government and politics at Humboldt State. Daniel, a tough-as-nails ultrarunner, once ran a 50-mile race with his arm in a cast. On that day, Bill was battling another SRRC runner, Gerald Hoopes, of Eureka, for the lead.

“They changed the lead four or five times in that last mile,” said Crandell. Hoopes beat him by a foot.

“Bill put the ‘Race’ in Willow Creek,” he added. “He went out hard from the beginning. He was the first one who charged the course. When you beat Bill, you knew you did something.”

At age 45, Crandell ran 4 hours, 51 minutes (on a sore hamstring) over the Willow Creek course. Daniel, who was 33 at the time, ran 4:35. That was to become George’s best Willow Creek Run ever.

At its peak in the 1980s, the Willow Creek event topped out at 35 runners. The fastest time ever run on the course was by Arcata’s Howard Labrie, in 4:10. Masters runner Warren Fink, 40, Portland, Oregon, finished one minute behind him.

NO FRILLS AT THE AVE—ONLY NATURAL BEAUTY

As much as George enjoys ultras, most of his running success has come in the marathon. His favorite course is the Avenue of the Giants, or “the Ave” as it is more affectionately called. Crandell knows the Ave course better than any other runner. Every step is burned into his brain like a cattle brand. It should be. He has completed the race 34 consecutive times.

The Ave is not just any old marathon. Held in scenic Weott, California, the race has a way of enveloping you in its awesome beauty. The course takes runners through a beautiful redwood forest, alongside a chattering river, and around blithe, fern-shaded meadows.

But over the next few years, those numbers quickly multiplied.

“The Ave had the potential to become a large race but was limited to 2,000 runners because of the [California State] park [restrictions],” said SRRC treasurer Bill Daniel. “During the running boom of the late 1970s, more than 3,000 participants vied for those 2,000 spots. To deal with the demand, SRRC held a lottery to pick the 2,000 lucky souls.”

Today the marathon pulls in approximately 400 competitors. Race organizers have added a companion 10K race and a half-marathon to attract more runners.

The only thing the race does not have is prize money. The Ave has a no-frills philosophy. It offers no appearance money, travel assistance, free lodging, or cash to top runners.

That doesn’t bother Crandell, not in the least. The man is on a streak.

A marathon streak is a difficult thing to keep going. Year after year there is a reason to quit, an excuse to wimp out. How has Crandell stoked the fires of competition for so long?

“T don’t run in the summer,” he said. “I fish.”

George started fishing the Umpqua River, east of Roseburg, Oregon, in 1965, and he hasn’t missed a summer yet. Another streak: 40 years of fly-fishing.

“It gives me two months of no running each summer,” he said. “I do lots of walking, wading, wearing different shoes. I probably exercise muscles I don’t use while running. I also probably saved myself from not having a disabling injury by taking the time off each year.”

Top: George Crandell in the final quarter mile of the Trinidad to Clam Beach Run (with Bill Daniel on his heels). Bottom left: George Crandell crosses the finish line of the Avenue of the Giants Marathon. Bottom right: George Crandell duels with the young guns at the mid point of the Avenue of the Giants Marathon.

Running Club

But staying healthy is a slippery slope. In addition to fishing, George daily tweaks his mileage to remain injury free.

“Tt takes a lot of luck,” he noted. “And once you get to a certain point, you put energy into staying healthy.”

Crandell also attributes his Ave streak to frequent ice treatments.

“Tt takes out the swelling and inflammation,” he said. “I tell people, leave it on until the area is numb. I leave it on until I almost get frostbite.”

Sometimes ice isn’t enough. Sometimes it takes an extra-large dose of determination to stay in the game. Crandell’s resolve was tested to the limits at the 19th-annual Ave, when he pulled a hamstring one mile into the race.

“There was no way I was going to stop my streak,” he said. “I ran on one leg for the rest of the way.”

Twenty-five miles on a pulled hamstring equals a lot of pain, a Bataan death march level of pain, the kind of pain that would make you tell someone on his death bed to quit whining. Any other runner would have thumbed a ride in, but not George. He limped the entire way to the finish.

The man has a pain threshold that only some animals of the forest have.

“T thought about dropping out,” he admitted. “When I crossed the finish line, I got down on all fours and kissed the pavement.”

“QUIT” ISN’T IN HIS DICTIONARY

After that race, George promised himself there would be no way he would ever quit. Fueled by a reservoir of stubbornness that career ultrarunners call upon at will, he has remained loyal to that promise.

During the past several years, though, the race has become a very delicate balancing act for chairman MAO. And he is slowing down.

“T don’t enjoy the times I’m running these days,” he said. “But I get so much attention when I finish, it makes it worth it.”

Another runner, Rod Smith, of Lewiston, California, had a 30-year Ave streak going and is rumored to have thrown in the towel because of his flagging times.

The biggest problem facing Crandell is logging enough training miles before each marathon and enough recovery time.

“My goal is to do 40 Aves,” he said. “After that, I’ll quit. It’s neat to keep a streak going, but I don’t want to be out there walking.

“I’m always looking at the numbers,” he added. “Everything I’ve run has been for time.”

SRRC president Karen Kelley-Day agrees. George has always been a numbers man for as long as she has known him, a guy who tosses around finish times, mile splits, and race statistics like marrow in a meat shop.

“He’s the history buff of local running,” said Kelley-Day. “He’s the guy who keeps track of all the other runners. George knows everyone’s PRs. I like him because he validates the fact that obsessive runners like myself are still, somehow, normal people.

“He was also the bridge between SRRC and Humboldt State running,” she added. “He loved to see HSU runners come to SRRC races.”

If there’s one thing that troubles George most, it’s adapting to growing old while trying to maintain his speed.

“Tt’s very hard,” he said. “I can’t go out and do the work I did two years ago. The reduction in ability doesn’t go down linearly, it’s exponential. My pace is decreasing with greater and greater speed each year.”

Part of the problem, he believes, is that the older you get, the longer it takes to recover from strenuous exercise.

“Muscle tissue doesn’t rebuild as well as it used to,” he said. “You only have so many cell divisions. Once you go so far, your tissue isn’t replenishing.”

THE SECRET TO HIS SUCCESS

Yet the streak goes on, in large part because George can still run long.

“This Sunday I went 20 miles. Then I ran 10 on Wednesday. I feel good about that. The rest of the week is recovery and tapering.

“T still enjoy the long workouts,” he noted. “I like running by myself and with the groups. The most fun of all are the Sunday club runs.”

Weekend runs are enjoyable for his running partners, too—at least until the final few miles, when Crandell shakes loose from the pack and the run descends into a maelstrom of pain and fatigue.

“He likes company for the first 90 percent of the run,” explained Forrest. “After that, forget it.”

George is an expert in what Williams calls the frog boil, a ploy he uses to test the competition.

“Put a frog in cold water and heat it up, the frog doesn’t realize it because the temperature rise has been so subtle,” said Forrest. “The same thing applies for long runs. George goes out with a group and ever so slowly picks up the pace. Nobody realizes it until it’s too late.”

His trick is to catch the others when they’re tired and vulnerable. Then he increases the pace gradually, until the others peel off like overcooked artichoke leaves.

And if someone tries to hang on? He simply screws up the pace a little more, until his friends fall, twisted and cringing, to the side of the road.

Nothing personal, you understand. It’s just a frog boil.

“You need a few tricks up your sleeve when you become a POF (pathetic old fart),” said Crandell. “I ran a PR 2:44 marathon at age 45,” he said. “At age 65,