MEDICAL SUPPORT

Another important and extremely hard-working person in the modern London Marathon is the medical director, Daniel Tunstall-Pedoe, MD. There is no doubt that the number of medical problems in a marathon, from blisters through dehydration to fatal heart attack, are proportional to the number of runners and their age- and sex-distribution. An exacting event involving over 41,000 participants, increasing numbers of them older men, running through the streets of a large city, with unpredictable weather conditions, calls for a large, efficient team to provide assistance and sometimes emergency treatment along the course, and a large medical facility at the finish, with rapid access to a well-equipped hospital. Dr. Tunstall-Pedoe has put all of this together over the years so that the Flora London Marathon is now a model for all large marathon races.

In spite of this, a rare fatality is virtually unavoidable in megamarathons, and one runner died in the 1997 race. This would be roughly equivalent to one fatality if the 1960 Polytechnic Marathon had been repeated 200 times. Dr. Tunstall-Pedoe reflects on some experiences in the first 16 years of the modern London Marathon, noting that on average one in five runners stopped for some sort of help from the more than 20 St. John aid stations on the course; but only one in a thousand of these was sent to the hospital, and only infrequently did the person stay overnight.

But unusually cold or hot weather can take a larger toll. In the 1996 race the temperature was about 70 degrees Fahrenheit, and water was scarce for slower runners (even though a very generous six liters was available per runner) because many earlier runners repeatedly poured full bottles over their heads. Dehydration led to 50 finishers being sent to St. Thomas’s Hospital and (even though most of these were not actually admitted) resulted in the event just qualifying as “a major medical disaster.” This made me think of my 1957 Melbourne Marathon experience, when I really should have received intravenous fluid!

The medical arrangements in 1960 might be seen as “primitive,” as they necessarily had to be at that time. But we had no complaints. And the faithful St. John staff were at the finish.

THE OTHER DENNIS

Finally, I should like to mention my cousin Dennis (a different Dennis than my 1960 running companion). As much as I love my cousin, I have to say that he has never been athletically inclined, and I count him among those people who probably doubt my sanity when it comes to running marathons. So, what does he have to do with the Flora London Marathon? Well, for much of his very

successful professional life, Dennis oversaw advertising for Unilever, with a special fondness for promoting the consumption of . . . Flora Margarine.

Many times he has emphasized to me the advertising importance of associating Flora Margarine with health and vitality: sunflowers, the sun, source of all life, polyunsaturates, and so on. Now I understand the connection: Flora and vast numbers of manifestly healthy, exercising runners, all with running numbers, programs, and goodybags inscribed in large, green letters FLORA. But best of all, and I delighted Dennis with this description, was the vision of 27,000 shimmering, silverclad runners, their thermal capes printed large with FLORA, brimming forth from the Royal Palace to all parts of Central London and beyond, some on buses, some by Underground, some to the airports. And all of this projected via televisionnationwide—nay, worldwide! What an advertising coup!

I don’t know whether I’ll run London again—or if they’d accept me! I’d certainly be curious to know how the race looks and feels in another 37 years. But then this isn’t an especially long time to wait Peter Wood is jubilant as he crosses the London Mara- for developments in thon finish line in 1997, 30 years after his first “Poly” the ancient City Pat

ee aa) .

COURTESY OF PETER WOOD

Marathon. of London.

uw The Great

uma SIX-Day Races

A History in 10 Parts: Part IX

Pedestrianism sputters, revives briefly, and then dies.

by Ed Dodd

Here’s a quick summary of Parts I through VIII of The Great Six-Day Races, which appeared in the first eight issues of Marathon & Beyond. — Editor

In 1788 “pedestrian” Englishman Foster Powell travels 100 miles in 22 hours, while fellow countryman Captain Barclay outdoes him by covering 100 miles in 19 hours in 1806. Pedestrianism catches on in the United States, where the best Americans, Edward Payson Weston and Daniel O’ Leary, compete in several six-day events in the 1870s. In 1876, the pair travels to England and continues to record impressive long-distance feats. British Parliament member Sir John Astley inaugurates a series of six-day races called the Astley Belt Races. O’Leary wins the first two races in decisive fashion but loses the Belt to Brit Charles Rowell in a gut-wrenching third race. After sitting out the first three events, Weston, whose career was thought to be washed up, competes in the Fourth Astley Belt Race, quieting his detractors with a record-breaking performance. Amidst great controversy, the fifth race takes place in New York

and violence, Charles Rowell wins. Six-day race mania sweeps the United States in 1879, and women pedestrians join the action. Charles Rowell captures the sixth and seventh Astley Belt Races to become the absolute owner of the Championship Belt. Charles Rowell next sets his sights ona record distance ina six-day event, but he fails dramatically in two attempts. Newcomer Patrick Fitzgerald of Long Island sets a six-day record in 1881 to join the ranks of the top pedestrians. After resting nearly all of 1883 from their arduous racing in 1882, Charles Rowell and Patrick Fitzgerald enter serious training for a rematch in 1884. Competing in a packed Madison Square Garden in New York, the two battle to near death, their trainers using drastic measures to keep the two men on the track. Fitzgerald prevails with a record 610 miles.

© 1998 by Ed Dodd Ed Dodd THE GREAT SIX-DAY RACES Mf 95

CHAPTER 12: THE RECORD ADVANCES— INTEREST DECLINES

Six-day, go-as-you-please pedestrian contests had been dying a slow death since the “hippodromes” of the early 1880s. Arace such as the Patrick FitzgeraldCharles Rowell battle in 1884 could stimulate interest for only a short time.

In 1885 and1886 there was almost no six-day activity in the United States. In 1887, Philadelphia hosted two six-day races. In February, Robert Vint, the shoemaker from Brooklyn, won $4,000 with a first-place distance of 530 miles. Frank Hart was second with 518.5 miles. Then in November of the same year, Brit George Littlewood made a successful trip to the United States, easily defeating the local favorite, James Albert, 569 miles to 530 miles. Littlewood won $2,200, Albert $1,200. The management made a miniscule $4,000.

Littlewood was now a seasoned veteran. He had achieved personal bests in every six-day race he had entered. He was perfecting his art each time he raced. Albert, at 33, was also approaching his prime. He had competed mostly in small affairs, from his first race in 1879 until the race with Littlewood in 1887. He was now ready for a serious all-out effort.

A race was arranged for February 6 through 11, 1888, in Madison Square Garden. Littlewood was not able to come back to the United States before April so he had to miss the race, but 72 other would-be pedestrians paid the deflated entry fee of $25 to run for glory and fame. Only a handful of the 72 starters had ever completed a six-day race before. The old guard of Frank Hart, Daniel Herty, George Noremac, Robert Vint, and Peter Panchot was there, along with the rising star, James Albert. Several other new names appeared, such as George Cartwright of England, who had a previous best of 570 miles, and Peter Hegelman and Peter Golden, who were just beginning their pedestrian careers.

To reduce the congestion on the eight-lap track, anyone who had not completed 100 miles in the first 24 hours would be disqualified and have to leave the track.

At the end of the first day only 24 of the original 72 entrants had finished the required 100 miles. There had been no great rush that first day. Hart led Albert by one quarter mile with 130.375 miles. Four others had gone over 120 miles. Hart ran into trouble on the second day, and there was little excitement from then on. Albert rolled along, day after day, unchallenged. Interest picked up the last two days when it became clear that Albert had a definite shot at breaking Fitzgerald’s world record of 610 miles in a six-day race.

New World Record Set

The “natty little Albert’ completed his 600th mile at 4:44 p.m. on the last day while the band played “Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys Are Marching.” Before his 610″ mile Albert changed his clothes and came out looking “as fresh as a man who had been ina Russian bath and in the hands of the tonsorial artist.”

He went through the record on the run, in contrast to Fitzgerald’s blind, exhausting stagger of 1884. The seven other remaining pedestrians left the track to Albert after 9:00 p.m., and the “redoubtable and graceful Albert ran like a thoroughbred racer until 10:00 p.m.” when the race officially ended with anew world record of 621.75 miles. Second was Daniel Herty with 582 miles, 600 yards; third was Gus Guerrero with 564 miles, and fourth was Frank Hart with 546 miles, 660 yards. Albert won $4,800 in gate money and $1,000 for breaking the world record.

After the race Albert said that he had — »srorter had absolutely no problems during the james Albert breaking Patrick entire six days. He now planned to retire —_Fitzgerald’s record for distance in and would resume training only if his a six-day race. record was broken.

Littlewood Arrives

George Littlewood made it back to the United States in April for the second Madison Square Garden six-day event of the year, set for May 7 through 13, 1888. Littlewood had to fight off two serious challenges during the race. The first came from the Irishman John Hughes of New York. Hughes had grown conservative with age and let Littlewood lead the first day, 137 miles to 131 miles. Hughes then moved to the front on Tuesday, while Littlewood suffered a slow-down from an inflamed hip. Hughes pushed too hard, however, and was struck with an attack of rheumatism on the third day. Littlewood regained the lead.

As Hughes was falling back, the Californian Guerrero was moving up. By the fifth day Guerrero had pulled to within 2.5 miles of Littlewood, but he was unable to catch the Englishman. Littlewood held on to win with the second-best performance ever—611.25 miles. Guerrero set a personal best of 590 miles. The ever-present Herty was third with 572.625 miles.

The extent to which Littlewood had suffered during the race was not made known in the press until the day after the race ended. The New York Times of May 4, 1888, described what Littlewood endured for his $3,974.12 in gate money:

It became known yesterday that it was pluck alone that enabled Littlewood, the Englishman, to win the six-day go-as-you-please contest which ended Saturday night. Littlewood’s feet are in a terrible condition. On the second day of the race a huge blister appeared under the ball of his right foot. On the following day another appeared on his left foot. On Wednesday his little toes began to swell, and on Friday they gathered and burst, laying open the flesh so that the bones were visible. His running on Friday and Saturday chafed the broken flesh apart so that it hung in flaps from both of his little toes. In the meantime the skin on the blisters had been worked off, and the man ran for two days on raw flesh. He must have been in excruciating pain during the greater part of the contest. On the third day his hip became swollen and inflamed with rheumatism. At four different times during the race it was thought by his trainers that he would have to abandon the contest, but the plucky fellow determined to go on as long as he could hold the lead.

These two races had been moderate successes for the management of O’ Brien and Kelly, and they arranged a third one for November 27 to December 2, 1888. Littlewood returned once more. This time he was to be handled by “Happy” Jack Smith, Patrick Fitzgerald’s old trainer. For four and a half days Littlewood struggled with Daniel Herty, who was competing in his eighth 6-day race. While he had never won a race, Herty had also never finished worse than third. It was not until 4:00 a.m. on the fifth day that Littlewood took over undisputed possession of first place. Even then, Herty did not crumble.

The Record Falls

The Sheffield Blond, as Littlewood had been nicknamed because of his reddish blond hair and moustache, reached Albert’s world record distance 621.75 miles at 8:00 p.m. on Saturday. Albert, who had observed the race every evening of the six days, came out of the stands and accompanied Littlewood on his next lap as the band played “Rule Britannia.”

George Littlewood shortly after setting a world record for a six-day race (623.75 miles) in late 1888.

Littlewood walked on for two more miles and then stopped with a new world-record performance of 623.75 miles. He could have easily covered 650 miles, but he did not want to make it difficult to break the record the next time he was given the opportunity. He won $4,400 in gate money and a $1,000 bonus for breaking the record.

Daniel Herty remained on the track until the last minute of the 144 hours expired so he could surpass the 602 miles completed by Charles Rowell in 1884. Herty completed 605 miles and was the last man to cover 600 miles or more in a six-day race for more than 100 years. Littlewood’s record has since been broken by three men—Jean-Gilles Boussiquet, Yiannis Kouros, and Gilbert Mainix. Littlewood’s record of 531 miles, 135 yards for six days of “fair heel and toe” walking, previously set in Great Britain, has never been equaled.

PHOTO COURTESY OF ED DODD.

Pedestrianism Is Dying

There was recurrent speculation that Littlewood and Albert would race at the Garden in 1889 for $5,000 a side. The race, however, never took place. In May of 1889, Albert, not able to regain his old form after a layoff of almost a year, managed to scrape by Gus Guerrero 533 miles to 525 miles in a six-day contest conducted in San Francisco.

The same week on the East Coast, in Madison Square Garden, Daniel Herty finally (after nine tries) won a six-day race by covering 550 miles. But because of very light attendance throughout the contest, he won only $1,500. John Hughes was fifth with 515 miles. He took home a paltry $200.

Pedestrianism was just about dead. As one Philadelphia paper said, “After the excitement and interest of bicycle racing, the scene of a motley crowd of quaintly attired athletes slowly ambling around a sawdust path was not an

inspiring one.” The wheelman soon gained a position of importance that the pedestrian would never regain.

In March of 1891 another six-day race was attempted at the Garden. The small crowds day after day dealt the final blow. Hughes won the race with 558 miles and made $3,750. No one seemed to care. For the next eight years there were no six-day contests in New York City.

A Short-Lived Revival of Pedestrianism

In the fall of 1898, Captain Alexander Samuells, a New York “sporting gentleman,” proposed a revival of the “great six-day races of the past.” The pedestrians were still around, but on such short notice most of them could not gather the $100 entry fee. They convinced Samuells to postpone the race until June. Samuells enlisted the aid of J. Henry Webb as his business manager and assistant. Webb traveled to England in March with the intention of securing Littlewood’s signature on a contract to compete in the June extravaganza. Webb returned empty-handed. This was to be an omen of things to come.

With the prospect of a full-scale, six-day competition later in the year, Lew Morris of New York arranged two races: a 12-hour race and a 24-hour, go-asyou-please race at the Grand Central Palace in New York City.

At five minutes past noon on February 14, 1899, 35 pedestrians toed the line before starter Al Smith. Peter Hegelman, competing for the first time in eight years, was well prepared. A young Norwegian, Olaf Steen, held the lead for 10 hours. But he had run himself out two hours too soon. Olaf tottered, with feet blistered and swollen. Dazed, his head was hanging forward, and his knees bent under him. His handlers ran alongside “goading him on with threats and shouts.”

Shortly after 10 p.m., Steen collapsed and was carried unconscious to his tent. A short time later he reappeared, supported on either side by a handler. He staggered on in this way until cries of “Shame, take him off!” from the meager crowd forced his handlers to do just that. Somehow he managed to hold on to second place and finished only two miles behind Hegelman’s 70 miles.

The attendance at this 12-hour event was extremely light, and a Philadelphia newspaper, commenting on the fact that this had been the first “longdistance pedestrian contest” held in New York City in eight years, predicted that it would also be the last one for many years to come. The newspaper miscalculated the tenacity of the pedestrians and their promoters.

pedestrianism. Two months later at the same location a 24-hour race was contested. Peter Hegelman was again the victor, with a decent performance of 120 miles. John Glick, anewcomer to the sport from Philadelphia, was second with 113 miles. Eleven of the original 33 starters were still on the track at the

conclusion of the race. Two old-timers, George Cartwright and Gus Guerrero, started the race but did not finish. Alfred Olson at 58 years was the oldest finisher, in 10th place with 72 miles.

The long-awaited (by the pedestrians) six-day race began in Madison Square Garden on June 12, 1899, but it was acomplete failure. After two days, the gross receipts were a miserable $143. Captain Samuells had already paid out $1,500 in rent for the Garden and was due to pay another $1,000 at the end of the week. It was evident to the competitors, seeing the empty seats throughout the arena, that Samuells would not be able to pay the rent, let alone pay them a percentage of the gate money. They held a quick conference and early on the third day decided to leave the track and go home.

This disappointment did not deter the promotion of a six-day event in Rochester, New York, later that same year. Irish champion Peter Golden covered 352.5 miles forthe vertigo-inducing 20-lap-to-the-mile track. Martin Fahey, a 20-year-old youth from Shenandoah, Pennsylvania, was second with 348.4 miles. Third and fourth places were captured by two men from the “Golden Age of Pedestrianism,” 42-year-old Frank Hart, who covered 316.4 miles, and 40year-old Daniel Herty, who finished a total of 306.6 miles.

New York City was unresponsive to this new wave of pedestrianism. Other cities took over, however. From 1900 to 1903 the cities of Philadelphia, Pottsville, Shenandoah, and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; Columbus, Ohio; St. Louis, Missouri; Lynn and Fall River, Massachusetts; and Detroit, Michigan were the sites of various pedestrian competitions.

The most enthusiasm was shown by the City of Brotherly Love. A series of five 6-day races were held in the Industrial Art Hall at the corner of Broad and Vine Streets, Philadelphia, on its tanbark and sawdust 16-lap-to-the-mile track.

Stars of the Renaissance

The “Golden Age” had Edward Payson Weston, Daniel O’Leary, and Charles Rowell. The Renaissance had John Glick of Philadelphia, George Tracy, and the foremost pedestrian of the day, Pat Cavanaugh, a Trenton, New Jersey, Irishman. In one 12-month period, from March of 1901 to March of 1902, Cavanaugh competed in six 6-day races, winning three of them.

His first victory came at the Old City Hall in Pittsburgh in November of 1901. On a tiny 20-lap-to-the-mile track he managed an incredible 506.25 miles to win by 31 miles. In February of 1902 he teamed up with Peter Hegelman in a six-day, two-man relay in Madison Square Garden. They won the race, covering 770.5 miles—the present world record. One month later, back at the Industrial Art Hall in Philadelphia, Cavanaugh won another individual six-day contest with a very fine 532.125 miles to Martin Fahey’s 514 miles.

Ed Dodd THE GREAT SIX-DAY RACES mm 101