The Woman Who Started It All
runnersweb
marathon--and pioneered a running movement. Here, in an excerpt from
her new book, Marathon Woman, Kathrine Switzer looks back on the day
that changed a sport.
By Kathrine Switzer
On a dark six-mile run in a wild snowstorm in mid-December 1966, I had
a terrible argument with my otherwise kindly old coach, Arnie Briggs.
It was in Syracuse, New York, where God first invented snow and never
let up. I was a 19-year-old journalism student at Syracuse University,
and since there was no women's running team there or anywhere else for
that matter, I began training unofficially with the men's cross-
country team. That's where I met 50-year-old Arnie, who had trained
for years with the team. Arnie was actually the university mailman and
a veteran of 15 Boston Marathons. He was excited to see a woman--the
first--come out to run, and took slowpoke me under his training wing.
To cajole me through tough evening sessions like this, Arnie told and
retold stories of famous Bostons. I loved listening to them--until
this night when I snapped and said, "Oh, let's quit talking about the
Boston Marathon and run the damn thing!"
"No woman can run the Boston Marathon," Arnie fired back.
"Why not? I'm running 10 miles a night!"
Arnie insisted the distance was too long for fragile women to run and
exploded when I said that Roberta Gibb had jumped into the race and
finished it the previous April.
"No dame ever ran the Boston Marathon!" he shouted, as skidding
motorists nearly killed us. Then he added, "If any woman could do it,
you could, but you would have to prove it to me. If you ran the
distance in practice, I'd be the first to take you to Boston." I
grinned through the gloom and flakes. Hot damn, I thought, I have a
coach, a training partner, a plan, and a goal: the biggest race in the
world--Boston.
Three weeks before the marathon, Arnie and I ran our 26-mile trial. As
we came down our home stretch, it felt too easy, so I suggested that
we run another five-mile loop just to feel extra confident about
Boston. Arnie agreed, reluctantly. Toward the end of our 31-mile run,
he began turning grey. When we finished, I hugged him ecstatically--
and he passed out cold. The next day Arnie came to my dorm and
insisted that I sign up for the race. He said it was wrong to run
without registering and, besides, I could get in serious trouble with
the Amateur Athletic Union, our sport's strict governing body. We
checked the rule book and entry form; there was nothing about gender
in the marathon. I filled in my AAU number, plunked down $3 cash as
entry fee, signed as I always sign my name, "K.V. Switzer," and went
to the university infirmary to get a fitness certificate. (Unlike
today, the marathon did not require qualifying times then.) Arnie got
the travel permits and mailed our entries. Two weeks later, my
boyfriend, a 235-pound ex-All American football player and nationally
ranked hammer thrower known as Big Tom Miller, announced that he was
going to run Boston, too, and didn't need to train because "if a girl
can run a marathon, I can run a marathon." Tom was an authority on all
things athletic and would not be dissuaded. Then John Leonard, from
the university cross-country team, decided to come, too. Talk about a
pace team. I'd be running the toughest race of my life with three of
the most talented athletes I knew.
More...from Runner's World at:
http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-243-297--11735-0,00.html?cm_re=HP-_-In%20This%20Issue-_-The%20Girl%20Who%20Started%20It%20All
Buy the book from Amazon at:
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0786719672/runnersweb/102-0182896-9006569?v=glance&s=books