especially after a big dose of carbohydrates, such as you might get from a big plate of spaghetti and rolls followed by a bowI of sorbet.

Initially, studies found that high-fat diets, where fats supply 60 percent or more of the calories, showed promise as a means to better endurance. Fat burning is increased on high-fat diets, even at rest. Exercise tests showed higher endurance in subjects who had been eating high-fat diets in comparison with high-carbohydrate diets.

At issue, however, was the intensity of exercise used for the tests. High-fat diets improved endurance at relatively low-intensity levels. When the intensity was increased to mirror race situations, the advantage disappeared. The higherintensity exercise required more carbohydrate, and the subjects simply lacked adequate glycogen to continue for extended periods. The lesson is that you can reduce your reliance on carbohydrate, but you can’t eliminate it.

We now know that both high-carbohydrate and high-fat diets cause fatigue and poor performances. The best diet is probably somewhere in between: one that supplies enough fat to stimulate fat metabolism and maintain production of testosterone and estrogen and also supplies enough carbohydrate to keep the brain and nervous system happy and the glycogen stores filled. Many sports scientists are recommending a basic diet that supplies 50 percent carbohydrate, 30 percent fat, and 20 percent protein, with additional carbohydrates after hard or long-duration training.

MORE QUESTIONS

There are still many unanswered questions regarding nutrition and endurance sports performance. Before a marathon or longer race, will fat loading in combination with glycogen loading boost performance? After hard or long training, should you also concentrate on replenishment of fat stores in the muscles? What type of fat, saturated or unsaturated, is burned for fuel? Will eating fat during races that last four hours or more benefit performance outcomes? What profile of fats in the basic diet is best for an athlete? The skeletal muscle membrane is made of fat. The composition of this membrane directly reflects the profile of fats in the diet. A diet high in saturated fats will generate amore solid, less fluid membrane. A membrane that incorporates more unsaturated fats is more fluid, allowing a more efficient flux of oxygen, water, fat, and glucose. New theories hold that these membranes are more leaky and require more energy to maintain. Conceivably then, a diet too high in either saturated or unsaturated fats could be detrimental to endurance performance. While there are new training methods being developed to enhance marathon performance, you will find substantial success with theories that are now 40 years old. In contrast, the field of sports nutrition research is currently

experiencing great strides. In the early 1990s, the accepted dogma of a highcarbohydrate diet came under fire and was dismantled. Until we have more definitive information, it is wise to follow a moderate, low-sugar, commonsense diet with high nutritional quality.

With a training and nutrition regimen that coerces you to tap into your fat supplies, you can teach your body to use more fat during your migration through the marathon, and beyond.

REFERENCES

Coyle, E. “Substrate Utilization During Exercise in Active People.” Am J Clin Nutr 61 (suppl): 968S-979S.

Coyle, E.F., Jeukendrup, A., Wagenmakers, A., and Saris, W. “Fatty Acid Oxidation Is Directly Regulated by Carbohydrate Metabolism During Exercise.” Am J Physiol 273 (1997): E268-E275.

Helge, J. “Adaptation to a Fat-Rich Diet, Effects of Endurance Performance in Humans.” Sports Med 30, 5 (2000): 347-357.

Jansson, E., and Kaijser, L. “Substrate Utilization and Enzymes in Skeletal Muscle of Extremely Endurance Trained Men.” J Appl Physiol 6293 (1987): 999-1005.

Martin, W. “Effects of Acute and Chronic Exercise on Fat Metabolism.” Ex and Sports Sci Rev (1996): 203-231.

Martin, W., Dalsky, G., Hurley, D., Matthew, D., Bier, D., Hagberg, J., Rogers, M., King, D., and Holloszy, J. “Effect of Endurance Training on Plasma Free Fatty Acid Turnover and Oxidation During Exercise.” Am J Physiol 265 (1993): E708E714.

Martin, W.H. “Effect of Endurance Training on Fatty Acid Metabolism During Whole

Pendergast, D.R., Leddy, J., and Venkatraman, J. “A Perspective on Fat Intake in Athletes.” J Amer Col Nutr 19, 3 (2000): 345-350.

Romijn, J.A., Klein, S., Coyle, E., Sidossis, L., and Wolfe, R. “Strenuous Endurance Training Increases Lipolysis and Triglyceride-Fatty Acid Cycling at Rest.” J Appl Physiol 75, 1 (1993): 108-113.

Terjung, R. “Muscle Adaptations to Aerobic Training.” Gatorade Sports Science Institute, SSE#54-volume 8 (1995).

Westgarth-Taylor, C., Hawley, J., Richard, S., Myburgh, K., Noakes, T., and – Dennis, S. “Metabolic and Performance Adaptations to Interval Training sf in Endurance-Trained Cyclists.” Eur J Appl Physiol 75 (1997): 298-304.

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Fa HUMAN KINETICS

My Most Unforgettable Marathon

(And What | Learned From It)

By DAVE SCHOENBLUM

AMPA BAY, FLORIDA, December 10, 2000—The decision to write this

article occurred while I was sitting on a plane next to an obese woman during along, agonizing flight to Phoenix. Sitting in a middle seat with no other open seats on the plane caused me to search for anything that could take my mind off the fact that all five of my senses and my personal space were being violated. This was to be a marathon of a flight… .

A couple of years ago, during the Florida Gulf Beaches Marathon in St. Petersburg, Florida, Andy Mathews explained his three-tier goal system to me. Andy is one of the wonderful running friends I met when I joined a local running group, the Tampa Bay Runners. His quest was to attain an “ultimate goal” of a Boston Marathon qualifying time. My job was to pace him the last six miles and along the way to tell him every stupid joke I knew.

Although Andy did not reach his ultimate goal that day, he did achieve one of his other goals, which he called “the acceptable goal.” Not very much later, during the Grandma’s Marathon, he did manage to achieve his ultimate goal of 3:15.

I don’t think I realized how the seed that Andy planted affected me until just recently. I was cleaning out my car and found an old Tampa Bay Runners newsletter (Treadwell, April 2000) containing an article that Andy wrote on his three-tiered goal system. The article was titled “3 Goals Are Better than 1.” It was then that I realized that Andy had unknowingly become one of my running mentors. I went out to help him run the Florida Gulf Beaches Marathon, but it was I who had benefited.

After completing my first marathon, Disney 2000, I decided it was time to see how much faster I could run one. So what time should I choose as a goal? Andy’s three-tiered goal system came to mind. So, like Andy, I went with the

idea of a Boston qualifying time as my “ultimate goal.” Since I’m older than Andy, and likely to be for a long time, I would need to break 3:25. Tier two (the “challenging goal’) would be to break 3:30, a very fine time for a guy my age. And tier three (“acceptable goal’) would be breaking 3:35, which would still knock 10 minutes off my PR.

PICKING AND CHOOSING

It was now time to pick the marathon in which all this would happen. So many marathons, so many choices, and so many people running marathons. As I contemplated all things marathoning, I asked myself whether I could answer the question of why so many people were taking on the marathon as a personal aerobic challenge. I think I know why. I think we become a bit of a superhero to ourselves. I know that sometimes when I’m out having a tough training run and am experiencing a hard time getting through it, one thought alone moves me to a new and higher level.

The fact that I have already completed a marathon gives my self-esteem enough of a boost that I shoot up a notch and things go better.

To have trained hard enough that I couldrun a marathon ata pace that Icould previously achieve only in a five- or six-mile race gives me superhero status to my way of thinking. If I could do that, I probably can do just about anything I set my mind to.

I decided on the Hops Marathon by Tampa Bay. I felt that running in my hometown would remove several potentially negative factors that are usually present when traveling to a destination.

My early objectives were to eliminate any factor that might split my focus. Additionally, the Hops course is flat, and since it was the first year the marathon would be run, I anticipated that the course would not be overly crowded so that I was assured I would be able to get into the field. So Hops it was. I sat at my computer that day, with ice on my knees, and registered online.

Without being totally conscious of my actions, I began to take steps to reinforce my objective. I had been doing track workouts under coach Dror Vaknin, who coaches a group called “Progressive Team in Training,” a sort of post-grad Team in Training group hoping to improve upon their original escapades in marathoning. I decided to make it formal with Coach Vaknin so I wrote out a check for his coaching services, and in the memo field of my check to him, Iscrawled “3:25.” My training schedule was in place toward my ultimate goal. I closely followed the training program and in fact added a rather unusual practice run, something called the Chicago Marathon.

At Chicago I found that, with the stress of a time goal removed, the external joy rolls in. Running against the clock has its own joys, but they are usually

Dave Schoenblum MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE MARATHON 139

internal. I reveled in the fact that it was not all that long ago that the very idea of running, and finishing, a marathon seemed like a huge challenge. Now here I was at Chicago, running 26.2 miles while wallowing in the cheers of spectators, casually gulping down the water and Gatorade, and reveling in what was, by Florida standards, perfect weather for running long.

Thad a wonderful time thanking the volunteers and talking inspirationally to the other runners who were there using Chicago as a stepping-stone to Hops.

At the finish I was ecstatic. Incredibly, over the next day or two I experienced no soreness or fatigue. Running a full marathon as part of a training program toward running a fast marathon is not standard practice, but for me it was a huge confidence builder, in that I had reassured myself that I could cover the distance; now all I had to do was to cover it faster. I felt that I could do that at Hops if I could restrain myself from expending so much energy on talking to everyone I encountered along the course, as I had done at Chicago.

POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT

Back in Tampa now, and it’s the day before my target marathon. At the expo, Iasked my new best friend, world record holder Khalid Khannouchi, to sign my Hops poster with his name and the prediction that I would break 3:25. He went even further: he put a smiley face after his signature and said that I could run it and come in smiling too. (How could I even think of hanging up the poster if I didn’t perform as the champ had predicted?) In addition, I bumped into Bob Foster, a fellow Tampa Bay Runner, who was scheduled to work the finish area; he told me he would be looking for me and that I had better not be late.

On the day of the race, I was unusually calm. It was as though my instinct had kicked in, and it was advising me not to waste my energies on anything other than the upcoming trial.

Because it was a small marathon in my hometown, I knew many of the other runners. It was both soothing and satisfying to see so many runners [had trained with. This social setting, combined with my buddy Andy’s taking me out at the 7:45 to 7:50 pace I needed, put me in a great mood. The miles just began to tick off effortlessly.

Near mile 10, though, I began to feel some discomfort in one of my knees. Thad the darkest thought of the whole day that if this pain increased, I was done. Thankfully, it did not persist. It must have known that this was going to be my day and it had best behave itself.

As with most days in Tampa, the weather was warm and many of the runners around me complained about the heat. I tried not to listen to them and was unaffected. I hydrated perfectly and had no problems with the heat.

Dave Schoenblum (center) in the early miles of the 2000 Hops Marathon by Tampa Bay.

At mile 15 my mentor and pacer, Andy, informed me he was not feeling well and he needed to drop back. Before he let me go, though, he did two things that had a big effect. First, he told me to take smaller strides with quicker leg turnover for 20 seconds or so at each mile, as this would keep me from becoming fatigued. The other thing he did was to ask one of the other runners who was at our pace to look after me. This assistance never really materialized but the thought was magical to me because it provided me with the joy of his friendship and compassion.

These positive influences made a huge difference in getting me through my race test. The other influence was my own determination not to let Andy down after all the help he had been to me.

Instead of worrying about being alone on the course, I set a goal for myself: to be at 23 miles at the three-hour mark. That would give me the luxury, if one

can call it that, of needing to run in the final miles at a mere eight minutes per mile.

By this point, the field had narrowed and we had left the shady roads that had provided some protection from the merciless sun.

As I reached each mile marker, I thought of what Andy had told me to do: take those quick, short steps. I did as Andy suggested, running alongside other runners going at my pace so that I wouldn’t undo my pace during the gear shifts. It got to the point that I was actually looking forward to this drill; it was a welcome change to what was becoming the tiresome motion of running.

MAKING ADJUSTMENTS

I suppose it was a combination of the heat, the lack of other runners near me, and a decided lack of spectators that undermined my pace. By the time Ireached 23 miles, I was 90 seconds behind schedule. Some quick math, which I somehow managed to do at that point, confirmed that now an eight-minute pace was not going to get the job done if I still wanted to meet my Ultimate Goal. However, I was all over the Challenging Goal.

It’s strange, but this was the very first time I thought about this second-tier goal, and the thought quickly did an exit-stage-left as I said to myself, “You can run faster or you’ll have to do this whole thing over again.” Immediately, another thought came to me. “You may never again feel as good as you do now at mile 23.”

Those two thoughts made my legs turn over as if they were automatic, changing over to a new gear.

Another thought that helped me get through this was realizing that I had only a 5K left to run and I didn’t have to run it as fast as a SK race. With those thoughts in place, the final three miles didn’t seem like an eternity.

Down deep I knew I was going to be able to do it. I concentrated on just maintaining my pace.

With roughly three-fourths of a mile to go, one of my training buddies was on the sidelines. He jumped out of the crowd and started running with me, telling me that I could do it. I was amazed again that I actually had some kick left as I approached the finish. I pushed it with what I had left and ran under the finish banner in 3:25:22. As Andy said later, I had plenty of time to spare: one whole second per mile!

Across the finish line, I was surrounded by my Tampa Bay Runner friends: Bob, Candi-O, and Jim. The three of them took real good care of me. The feeling of euphoria was heightened for me because these people who were working the finish line were not only friends but also fellow runners, so they could empathize with my feeling of achievement.

Just a short time later, another friend informed me that Marianne, my girlfriend, had finished and her only worry seemed to be whether I had met my goal. That selflessness is what Marianne is all about. She continues to be a valuable messenger to me about the deeper aspects of human existence; sometimes I find that I’m not sure what she is saying about the more profound side of our life on this earth, but her meanings manage to shine through even when I’ m uncertain of their nuances.

The rest of the day was equally magical, and, surprisingly, the body from which I had demanded so much continued to hold up so that I could enjoy and absorb all the postrace activities. Everywhere I went my friends and colleagues made me feel like a hero. Inside, I began to realize that it was, indeed, a very special accomplishment, but it was also humbling because it pointed out to me how much more I had to learn.

* * *

Well, the finish line of this very uncomfortable flight to Phoenix is near, and today it excites me almost as much as successfully crossing a race finish line. Being pressed sideways into your seat by another intruding body doesn’t do much to make life at 35,000 feet tolerable, but it did have its “up” side in that it forced me to refocus my energies to turn out this story; otherwise, I might never have gotten around to writing it.

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Dave Schoenblum MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE MARATHON M143

Right on target, Dave meets his goal and qualifies for Boston at the 2000 Hops Marathon by Tampa Bay.

Now all I have to do is attempt to get an upgrade on the return flight so that I have some space in which I can work on my business forecasts. Ishould learn more from Marianne about how to see the positive side to every life experience. She has the right idea.

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To Just Call

un Mie Jock

Part 3: Experimental Shoes and Frustrated Olympic Hopes.

by Jock Semple with John J. Kelley and Tom Murphy

Chapters 1 through 4 appeared in the May/June and July/August issues.

CHAPTER 5

“Fear the man who comes to the race with his clothes in a paper bag,” he said. “That’s your real runner.”

Today a modern runner’s entire assortment of equipment weighs less than one of our old shoes.

Iremember running Boston Marathons over dirt roads when the chiropodist’s station at the finish line in the front of the Lenox Hotel looked like a butcher shop.

We all had our own preferences for toughening our feet. I once met a man who had participated in Bernard McFadden’s much-hyped six-day runs. He mentioned that he used fish brine. Pickle brine worked, as did sea salt water, he said, but fish, though it smelled to high heaven, toughened feet the best without hardening them. I adopted the fish approach and today I am still astounded at the compassion displayed by my fellow boarders in the $10 a week rooming houses where I lived. Three nights a week I placed a pan of fish brine under a desk in my room while I sat down to write letters home and toughen my dogs. Either the Irishman, Poles, and Italians who bordered my room wore clothespins over their noses, as I was tempted to do, or they were fans.

Sam Ritchings, a local shoemaker, approached me one year and asked if I’d participate in an experiment. I was lying on a cot at the finish of the Boston Marathon when he asked to examine my feet. He said he had an idea to reduce friction and prevent blisters. I told him if he could do that he’d be everyone’s hero. Bob Campbell, the former National AAU long-distance chairman, tells

the story of a guy who puta dollar bill in his shoes before the Boston Marathon. When the guy took his shoes off at the end, the bill had been changed into ten pieces. If Sam could save us that pain, I told him I’d gladly volunteer.

Over the next few months, I tested shoes Sam made for me, but they fell apart. Never one to quit, Sam, who wore a black cape and labored at night with his hands, redesigned the shoe and produced another pair. This time he used white buckskin. The white surface reflected the heat, whereas the standard black shoes we all wore absorbed the heat. Sam did a computation and estimated that white radiated 38 percent less heat than the black shoes. In addition, the white buckskin was more durable. He put elastic into the innersole to allow freer movement for the foot, and he left out the stiff heel counter to prevent abrasion. The sole was crepe and had a metacarpal pad. Importantly, he added perforation to the sides of the shoes, which allowed ventilation.

The shoes were a dream and soon I was the envy of all the other guys who lay on cots with bleeding feet. As Semple sauntered by in white dogs, many let out a howl. Soon everyone wanted a pair, and within weeks Sam was swamped with orders. Old John Kelley and DeMar received Sam’s second and third pair. By the mid-1930’s, every top marathon runner in America was wearing the “S.T.A.R. Streamlines.” Sam used his own initials: “Sam T.A. Ritchings.” To this he added “Streamline,” because that’s what the shoes were, sleek, the white bucks of the roads. Interestingly enough, Sam did not apply for a patent until a full year after introducing his shoe. He was in no hurry he said. It took him 16 hours to make one pair, for which he charged $7.50, but money did not matter to Sam. “Somebody may make a shoe that looks like mine,” Sam said. “But nobody could ever duplicate my S.T.A.R. Streamlines because there’s too much of me in my work.” When Sam died in 1937 at age 70 we all felt a great loss.

1932 proved to be my Olympic year that never was.

Thad not run Boston in 1931. Smilin’ Jimmy Henigan won, which was fitting since Jimmy, like Old John Kelley after him, was a crowd favorite. The “Smiling” part was a misnomer, however. Jimmy only looked as if he was smiling when he ran. Actually, he told me once, “It’s agony they see on my face, Johnny.”

“Fear the man with the paper bag.” That was Jimmy’s favorite expression. He never was impressed by any dandies who came to Hopkinton in department store sweatsuits. “Fear the man who comes to the race with his clothes in a paper bag,” he said. ““That’s your real runner.”

I got tenth at the Boston Marathon in 1932, while knocking a minute off my 1930 time. A month later I won the Pawtucket Marathon again and beat DeMar’s record with a 2:39:25 clocking. I was keyed now for the Olympic Trials scheduled for June in Washington, D.C., but almost instantly frustration begat frustration. It wouldn’t have bothered me so much to be left off the team, but I was clearly running well enough to make the Olympics.

I filed again for my citizenship, a process I had initiated in 1923, but I was told that a year I had spent in Scotland in 1928 made them void. I would have to reapply all over and wait five additional years before filing again.

No way. I got affidavits to prove that I had stayed home for a year because my mother was sick—which she was—but after much aggravation, a clerk showed me the small printing on the form that said, “After seven years void for all reasons.”

That shot my chances for the U.S. Olympic team; but there was always the Union Jack, or so I thought.

I wrote to England and learned that the British were taking two marathon runners instead of three to Los Angeles, Duncan Wright and the veteran Sam Ferris. I got very excited. This had become the other half of my life’s goal, to run on an Olympic team, and I believed I would be picked since I had proved that I was now one of Britain’s top three runners. Since Boston was halfway to California anyway, I wrote to the British telling them that my inclusion on the team wouldn’t cost them a dime. I offered to pay my own way, which meant I intended to hitch.

No thank you, they said.

Hoping to improve my chances I hitched up to Toronto for the Canadian qualifying marathon. I got a little training in on this venture and even spent a night in jail.

Inever stood on the side of the road while hitching; instead I jogged. It kept me in shape and took me closer to my destination. I never bought food in restaurants either, since I had no money for anything except grapes and apples, which I kept in my pocket. I met more ten-second, 100-yard dash men in those days than the Boston Marathon has runners today. I nodded my head whenever the stories began, which invariably earned me a couple of extra miles in the car.

I got put in the cooler in upstate New York, but I was quite willing. It was late when I got left off in a small town in Cherry Valley. I told a policeman who stopped me that I was a runner going up to Canada to run a marathon. They had a drunk in the tank already, he said, but he offered me the cell next to the drunk’s if I wanted a cot to sleep on. Sure, I said, and I slept right through the night, even with the guy next to be banging on the bars with a tin cup. In the morning the police offered to give me a meal ticket to the local Y for breakfast, but I refused. I figured they had been charitable enough to me, and I still had some grapes in my pocket.

I made Toronto in two days at the cost of five cents, which would make my ancestors proud. I walked across the bridge from Niagara Falls and paid the nickel toll.

In Toronto I got in touch with Ernie Wyer, the brother of Canada’s great runner, Percy Wyer. Ernie put me up in the Y where I got a shower and a good night’s sleep before the marathon. “How do you like this?” Ernie said, as he showed me the race trophy before I bunked down.

“Gee, Ernie,” I said. “I always wanted to win a trophy with a lid on it.” A lid is a statue of a runner at the top of a trophy.

“Get a lid on that thing,” Erie said as he turned to one of the officials. Then he turned back to me. “That should offer added incentive for you, Johnny.”

It did, but I didn’t win it. I was leading the pack when I got hit with the runs at 18 miles. I dashed into the woods and put myself back in order as quickly as possible, and I was still leading until Eddie Cudworth overtook me in the last three miles and nipped me for a spot on the team.

Later I wrote letters to the British, but my pleas did no good. I proved that Thad beaten Eddie Cudworth earlier, that I had defeated Paul DeBruyn, the German Olympian and a Boston Marathon winner, beaten both Jimmy Henigan and Hans Oldag of the United States, defeated more than a dozen of the world’s best. But still, even though I offered to pay my own way to Los Angeles, still those old fogeys would not relent.

At this time one of the most significant developments in marathon history was occurring. Barely any mention of it was made in the Boston papers, except for a little box that appeared on the sports page, but Paavo Nurmi, the Finnish Olympian, ran a qualifying marathon for the Olympics—his first attempt at the distance—and not only made the Finnish team, but he shattered the world record by ten minutes. In 1932 when Pawson held the Boston record with a 2:31 clocking, Nurmi ran 2:21. That his feat received scant notice in the Boston papers indicated the low regard paid marathon runners in America. If you can imagine a totem pole representing the hierarchy of sports, we were the part that goes in the ground.

Subsequently Nurmi was suspended from the Finnish team for a spat involving expense money. He believed he was being short-changed and after he refused to compete in any more German Federation meets, he was barred from competing in the Olympics.

A group of Boston promoters sought to capitalize on the Nurmi fiasco. When the suspension held and Nurmi was forced to sit out the Olympics, the Boston Olympic Club conjured a promotion for Rockingham Park, a disused horseracing track in Salem, New Hampshire. They announced that Nurmi, whose suspension they believed would soon be lifted, had agreed to compete in a “new” Olympic marathon at Rockingham Park. Juan Zabala of Argentina, who had just won the 1932 Olympic marathon, signed to accept Nurmi’s challenge to meet face to face. This delighted me, of course, since I wanted a crack at Zabala after missing the Olympics myself, and for six weeks I doubled my training.

Jock was a fierce competitor.

Nurmi came, but his suspension was not lifted and he was contracted to serve as the starter. Zabala promptly announced that he would attempt to break Nurmi’s world record.

Bang! Nurmi fired the gun and we were off. Zabala looked as if he might fulfill his promise as he jumped out front early. John Kelley went with him. Old Kel was but a boy then and he had not yet proven himself as a great marathon runner. Nevertheless, he put himself in Zabala’s back pocket. I was running in fifth place and as I watched Old John I thought he was playing the rabbit for his pal Henigan. Years later John told me he had misjudged the quickness of

Zabala’s pace and truly had thought he could keep up with the Argentine. Johnny was great as a ten-miler, which probably explains that reasoning.

Those two ran away from us. Behind them we formed a pack: DeMar, Henigan, Whitey Michaelson, Bricklayer Bill Kennedy, Clyde Martak, who earlier had won the national championship at Washington, D.C., and myself.

After a few miles I turned to Kennedy and said, “If Zabala holds this pace, Ill race you for second.” Kennedy just shot me a look.

After 12 miles, however, Zabala stepped off the track. He said he had new shoes which pinched his feet, but I never go for alibis. The man simply went out too fast and crapped out.

The rest of us settled down and soon we passed Old Kel, who also began cracking under the hot sun. At that point I took the lead. I held it for eight miles. I don’t know if I was crazy, or merely over-excited about the company, but I stretched my lead to a half-mile going around the 18 mile mark. Then it hit me again: the runs. I scooted into the woods as the crowd in the grandstand stood and pointed at me. I worked quickly, and when I came back out running I still had a lead, but I was weakened and I ran stooped over as the crowd applauded.

At 22 miles Michaelson caught me. He was strong and he kicked and he licked me by about half a mile. I took second, while DeMar finished third. The first place trophy was an enormous thing, and I had to suppress envy as I watched Whitey accept it. I got a pretty nice cup, but the difference was like caviar and canapes. I got a big hand from the crowd, but the next day I was back in the cage at my $11 a week job: a club hero, but still broke.

I piled on the marathons. A few weeks later I successfully defended my New England marathon title by winning the Manchester race, but the next day I got a letter from Bill Kennedy asking me if I’d hitch down to New York, for the Portchester Marathon. I looked at the date: it was two days away. My legs were still sore from Rockingham and Manchester, yet I had to go for Bill’s sake. He was the founder of the Portchester Marathon and he needed top-flight runners. He was having trouble getting sponsors without big names, and though it meant running two marathons in four days, I went.

When I arrived I was shocked. Bill had come up with the idea of a “handicap” marathon to attract newspaper attention and he had put me on scratch. Not only were my blistered feet killing me, but I had to wait 45 minutes while the other runners were sent off ahead of me. I’ ve never been so restless. Pat Dengis was allotted 15 minutes, but in a fine gesture offered on behalf of my sore dogs, he forfeited half of it.

Bill Steiner, an Olympic runner from New York, and I were the last of three groups to go off. I was so stiff I felt as if I were running on stilts. By 10 miles I began to unwind and by 20 miles I had caught the entire field, except for Dengis. Soon I pulled even with him, but then I died. Only encouragement

Kennekuk 1 Road Runners 23° annua

present…

76 Mile Wild Wild Wilderness Run

Sunday, September 29, 11:00 a.m. Kickapoo State Recreation Area, west of Danville, IL

Individual and team competition

Voted one of the 50 best running trails in the U.S. by Runner’s World magazine

7.6 miles of beauty and challenge—95% of the course is trail

Post race picnic with food, drink, prizes and music at Kickapoo State Recreation Area

Visit the Kennekuk Road Runners, America’s Running Club www.kennekuk.com

e-mail: krr@kennekuk.com

PO Box 1701

Danville, IL 61834

For more information, call Susan Puzey: 217/733-2403 On-line registration available via www.active.com

Kennekuk Road Runners: We train hard, race hard, and party hard.