It Was a Very Good Year—and a Half

A retrospective of the high points of a very long career.

Part 3 of 3

Editor’s note: This is the third of three parts in which Frank Bozanich, an American record holder at a variety of ultradistances, recounts the best 18 months of his running career. This part covers the first six months of 1980.

Yes, Virginia, back in those days many races were run from point A to

point B, and nobody seemed to be too concerned if it didn’t work out to be a convenient distance like 5K, 10K, half-marathon, or marathon. By the way, the starting lines were usually lines drawn in the middle of the road. Another line was drawn at the finish, with no tape to break. We also didn’t wear watches, and when the gun went off, we all charged down the road, and may the best man win. We didn’t worry too much about pace, keeping up with the guy ahead, or keeping those behind at bay. I completed the race in 61 minutes and 15 seconds, setting a course record. It was a nice way to start off the new year.

Then it was off to Miami, Florida, for the second annual Road Runners Club of America 100K National Championships. You’ll recall that a year previous I won the race with a new American record.

The 100K went off on January 26 in Larry Thompson Park and was a little more difficult than the previous year. The gun sounded and I was away quickly, but after traveling quite a ways down the course, the field was called back for a restart, something highly unusual in an ultra. This disruption did not set well with me: I didn’t appreciate having to run nearly a quarter mile and then having to run back and start again. Jim Pearson, a fellow Pacific Northwest runner, took the lead after the restart. Jim had a best 50-mile time of 5:12; it is amazing to me that

() n January 19, 1980, Iran an 11.3-mile race in Mount Vernon, Washington.

the two of us grew up within 40 miles of each other and ran high school track at the same time. Jim led to the marathon point (2:43), and I was hanging on about a minute behind him. At 50 miles I moved into the lead and opened that lead to about two minutes. I went on to win my second 100K national championship in a time of 7 hours, 1 minute, and 40 seconds. I now owned the two fastest 100K times in America. It was a tough race, but I was able to dig down deep to pull out another win.

The next day I relaxed by going water-skiing. I had never water-skied before, but with the help of a great water-skiing champion, I was able to get up and actually circle the lake. I think I was just as happy learning to water-ski as I was winning the 100K, and as I recall, I believe the 100K was the easier of the two.

I took a couple of months off from racing and did lots of training. I then entered a 10K race in Monroe, Washington, on March 22, which I won in 30:30. I was really pleased with my time and effort, as I used the race as a training run, which meant I trained normally and heavy right on through the race. On March 30, [ran a 25K near Vancouver, Washington. I placed third with a time of 1 hour and 26 minutes, which translates to a 5:30/mile pace. The two training races gave me some excellent speed work for future ultras.

On April 21, I participated in the Boston Marathon and finished with a time of 2:36. After the marathon I stayed in the Boston area and ran a 10K race in New Hampshire, where I ran 34 minutes.

Yakima Ultras, May 4, 1980

On May 4, I ran a 50K in the annual Yakima Ultras. The event included all three major ultra distances: 50K, 50-mile, and 100K. The previous year I had won the 50-mile in 5:18, and this year I ran the 50K, winning in a time of 3:09. The course was in a park and used a four-plus-mile loop. I ran the event three times and ran a different distance each year, ultimately winning each distance and setting course records for each distance.

Six days later, Iran a 15K race in Seattle and placed 15th with a time of 50:21. I received an invitation to run the Revco Marathon in Cleveland, and on May 18 I ran the race, finishing in third place with a time of 2:31. The race was fun and well done, but the most exciting part of the event was trying to get home, as Mount St. Helens had erupted that morning, making air travel into Seattle rather difficult.

I was now ready to pack up and head to Biel, Switzerland, to participate in the Biel 100K race. I was looking forward to the race, one of the oldest 100Ks in Europe.

L arrived early enough that I was able to adjust to the time-zone changes and also get in some light training. It was an enjoyable experience getting to learn

Photo courtesy of Frank Bo:

<@ Frank and Herr Linder looking over the course before the race. He and his family were gracious hosts and taught Frank much about the culture.

a different culture, a process made easier as the family of one of the race directors hosted me. Prior to staying with the host family, I stayed in a hotel near the train station and took a couple of easy runs but did not see P any other runners and wondered where they all were. About the third day I started out for a run and spotted another runner, so I followed him and eventually caught up with him as we reached the outskirts of the town. I found that we had entered the forest at the base of the Jura Mountains, and it was full of trails and lots of runners. It was nice to run with others, and we made some good conversation.

I was given a tour of most of the course, which was hilly and primarily made up of dirt and gravel roads. I was unable to check out a 20K section of trail that was dubbed “The Ho Chi Minh Trail.” This came to haunt me during the race, as this section was run during darkness.

The race was scheduled to begin at 10:00 p.m. on Friday night and would end at 10:00 p.m. on Saturday. A good portion of the participants were walkers and were allowed 24 hours to complete the course.

The afternoon of the race, I went with a daughter of my host to Lake Biel, where she and her friends windsurfed while I lay about and rested. About an hour after we arrived, it began to rain lightly; then it began to rain seriously. The heavy rain continued all afternoon and was still coming down when the race started.

About a quarter of a mile into the race, we went under a railroad overpass, and I was suddenly up to my thighs in water. When I signed up for the race, I didn’t realize it was going to involve swimming. At about a mile into the race, we hit the dirt roads through a farming district, and they were nothing but mud. We ran through the quagmire for 10 kilometers until we hit the gravel road.

Whenever we came to a small village, the inhabitants would spill out to the edge of the road to cheer us on. It didn’t matter much what time of the night it was. We could also hear the cowbells ringing in the fields as we passed. I was running in second place at the time and feeling content with my standing and my effort.

At 50K I was still in second and feeling good, but that would soon end as we were entering the famous—or infamous—Ho Chi Minh Trail. Each of the top 10 runners was assigned a bicyclist; each bicyclist was expected to stay with the person who was in the position that matched the number on his bike. I also had my own handler with me on a bike. Thomas Steffins was a German who called while I was in Biel, wondered if I needed a handler, and offered to come down and fill that position. Thomas was carrying extra shoes and my drinks. When we came to the Ho Chi Minh Trail, Thomas had to ride on ahead, as his road bike was not suitable for the trail. I headed on down the trail with my assigned bicyclist following me, the headlight on his bike helping to light up the trail. Not long into the dark trail, I flashed back to Vietnam and some of the night patrols Thad been on. It was eerily like “Nam; the trail even ran along a river. I kept getting hit by branches and wet leaves and was having difficulty making out the trail as it twisted and turned. I had to slow way down, which played on my mind and began to discourage me. At one point I fell and was heading for the river and would have ended up in it if not for the man on the bike.

After that incident I became discouraged and walked for some time to regroup. Other runners were passing me. Finally, at the 70K mark, we emerged from the trail, and I was able to meet up with Thomas again. He had me change my shoes, as the ones I was wearing were full of mud and rocks. He then motivated me to run again. I think at that point I had dropped back to 10th place, but Thomas kept after me, citing the fact that in Europe the race organizers typically give nice prizes to everyone who finishes in the top 10. I began to get it back together and finished up in sixth place with a time of 7:30, with which I was pleased, considering the conditions of the course. The

This is a map of the Biel 100K course, which is basically one large loop with a few aid stations.

downpour reminded me of the monsoons we had in Vietnam and Okinawa. Oh, yes, the prizes: I received a nice medal and a large bouquet of flowers.

I stayed in Switzerland a few more days and then flew to Washington, DC, to visit my sister and her family.

Old Dominion 100, Virginia, June 14, 1980

After my arrival at my sister’s, I spoke with my friend Bob Mason (of Brattleboro

mile trail run. Bob had run it the year before on its inaugural outing and thought I would do well. I listened to Bob and decided to give it a go.

The race was in Leesburg, Virginia, about 50 miles from my sister’s house. Steve, a friend from the Marine Corps, decided to go along to be my handler, which was a big help. The footrace was joined at the hip with an endurance horse race.

So on Saturday, June 14, eight days after finishing the Biel 100K, I toed the starting line for the 100-miler. The course was a large loop and consisted of varying terrain—everything from open fields to gravel roads, corn-stubble fields to stream crossings, and of course, sections of the very rocky Appalachian Trail. The weather

in Virginia in June is usually very hot and humid, and it held true to form.

Photo courtesy of Frank Bozanich

A Frank at the medical check and weigh-in the afternoon before the Old Dominion 100. The gentleman in the yellow shirt is the famous Bob “Mase” Mason, whom Frank first met at Lake Waramaugh, when they discovered their Marine Corps connection.

The horses set out a half hour in front of us, and I would later have the opportunity to pass many of them. The horse riders were very encouraging and polite. Whenever I came upon any of them, they were quick to move aside so I could pass safely.

I felt surprisingly strong after the effort in Switzerland, so, in my usual fashion, I went out fast. When I came to a water crossing, I charged right in without worrying about getting wet feet and was able to put distance on those behind me who stopped to remove their shoes and then had to stop on the other side to put them back on. I arrived at the halfway medical check feeling strong; the first half of the race took me 7 hours and 30 minutes. I wasted no time in getting checked out and headed out for the second half of the course, which featured plenty of hills. | never saw another runner after the start; the only people I saw were those at aid stations and riders on horses. At the 85-mile mark, Steve met me along with my sister and her family. I slowed to take my aid, and while I did so, someone stated that a runner was gaining on me. Although I was tiring somewhat, I made it clear that nobody was going to beat me at that point. I quickly finished my drink, dropped my bottle, and set off with renewed energy.

The race did not have any real aid stations except at the medical checks where we got weighed, and the horses had a much more serious check. I guess