Tag: History

Calgary Marathon Action!

Did you know that June is Stroke Awareness Month in Canada?

To raise awareness of the prevalence of stroke, I’m once again offering my memoir—Stroke of Luck: My Life in Amateur Athletics—for a special price in June. Order your copy on Amazon and save 20%.

Help me raise funds for the essential work of the doctors and staff at Foothills Stroke Unit!

Calgary Marathon Weekend

It was a great weekend for racing, and this year a record number of runners laced up for the 61st edition of the Calgary Marathon. Across several races, more than 17,000 runners turned out. Race distances were from 1k (toddlers only I’m told) right up to the marathon.

The Calgary Marathon is the oldest in Canada. It’s only a few years younger than me. Speaking of being younger, I dug into my archives to share with readers my own history with this storied race. Then, I’ll share some highlights from the 2025 races, where I was strictly a spectator!

1987 – A milestone is reached!

It’s hard to believe, but I first ran the Calgary Marathon in 1987—I had to check my math to verify that it was 38 years ago. At the time, Deborah and I were living in Edmonton, which means we made the trek to Calgary in an underpowered Honda Civic.

The race route is shown below, copied from my well-preserved race entry.

The race entry fee, for those who are used to paying over $100 now, was $12. And that included a cotton singlet, which has curiously not survived—I don’t even remember it. The NB 990 shoes I wore are also long gone. However, I was a proud member of the Edmonton Roadrunners in those days, and my club singlet is still around, buried in a drawer somewhere.

The 1987 Calgary race was my fourth marathon, and it turns out that race bib 13 was not unlucky. In fact, it was a notable race, because I managed to go under 3 hours for the first time—2:58:30 to be precise.

You can see my relief in this finish-line picture. I finished 42nd overall, and 7th in the (yikes!) 18-29 age group. And yes, that last bit makes me feel old!

1992 – Another milestone

I’ve had a long love-hate relationship with the marathon. As evidence, it was five years before I would tackle the distance again. In July 1992, I came into the race—called the Calgary Miracle Marathon that year—in what may have been the best shape of my life. We had moved to Calgary in 1991, so I felt I had a home-field advantage. What’s more, in the two months before the race, I had set PB’s in the half marathon and 10k, so I was full of confidence.

In Stroke of Luck, I wrote about how my careful race preparations were almost upset by unplanned events on race morning. Here’s an excerpt:

“I went through my final planning for race day. Then everything just about fell apart. Our son Daniel, who was by then nearly a year old, had been a sound sleeper most of the time. However, on this night, he had some unknown issue that kept him up until the early hours. I was reduced to lying in bed with my eyes open, thinking about what this would do to my marathon in a few hours. … Finally, Daniel quieted down, and I fell asleep. Too soundly, as it turned out. In addition to my other troubles, I had set my alarm incorrectly and it didn’t wake me up when I had planned. The only thing that saved me was my decision to take a cab to the race. The sound of the driver honking his horn was my alarm. At first, the sound was part of a dream, but as the cobwebs slowly cleared it dawned on me what had happened. I leapt out of bed, totally skipped my normal race day breakfast, and jumped into the car for the short ride downtown. Still half asleep, I stowed my bag and headed to the start line, believing that my day was ruined.”

It turns out I need not have worried. While I did run well, setting a PB by 7 minutes, I remember being disappointed at the finish. Over time, that disappointment has softened, to the point where I’m now quite content with my 2:51:39 result. I finished 20th overall, and fourth in the 30-39 age group.

Unfortunately, no photographic evidence or T-shirts have survived from that momentous 1992 race, and there were no finisher’s medals. But that’s okay, as I’ll never forget that day. I can still relive the entire race in my mind.

One thing I did keep is the scrap of paper where I scribbled all my race splits. Like me, my friend John has a few more gray hairs now than he did in 1992.

And yes, my last mile (7:53) was extremely slow!

To show how much things have changed in the last 30+ years, here’s a scan from the Calgary Herald article on the 1992 race. My friends and training partners—Dave Purcell (4th) and Rick Webb (6th)—had a very good race.

2001/2010 – Nothing to see here

I ran the 2001 and 2010 marathons. Neither was my best outing. We can move on…

2025 – Strictly spectating

As has become my custom, I like to find a convenient spot on the race route to watch the action and take pictures of the runners. This year was no different, other than the fact that the races are now split between Saturday (5k and 10k) and Sunday (half and full marathon). So, yes, it means getting up early both days on the weekend, but I wouldn’t want to miss the fun.

I was watching for teammates and friends and I had to be alert. I find it particularly hard to spot familiar faces AND take their picture, which is too bad, as that is the whole point!

Anyway, here is a collage of photos from the races. I ended up with a lot of good pictures, so it looks like I’ll be sifting through them for a while. Starting with the 10k, where I set up at the 7k mark, just as the runners came off the Centre Street Bridge:

And here’s an album from the half/full marathon. For this route, I set up on 14th Street, just around the 14k mark. This year, the morning light was amazing, even though it meant the conditions were a bit warm for the runners:

I have to make special mention of John Bird, who ran the half marathon in his pilot uniform while pulling a roller suitcase. John set a Guinness World Record for the fastest half marathon in this outfit, and he is raising money for Dreams Take Flight, a very worthy cause. Congratulations John!

Finally, there were some cool non-running scenes, for example at the 11th Avenue water station. It was a bit chaotic, but that’s what makes it fun.

As always, if you want to use/distribute any of these photos, please give me a photo credit.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Book Review: “Today We Die A Little”

Today We Die a Little: Emil Zatopek, Olympic Legend to Cold War Hero, by British journalist and author Richard Askwith, tells the fascinating story of the great Czech runner, Emil Zatopek.

Zatopek was an enigma. His life paralleled his country’s history and is intertwined with the Second World War and the rise and fall of the Soviet Union. Askwith did a thorough job of researching his subject.

The Czech Locomotive

Today, if people know anything about Zatopek, it’s likely because of his ungainly running style. Videos of his great performances are easily found, and worth a look. But his rolling head, flailing arms and gnashing teeth may be the least interesting part of his story.

Emil was a true sportsman. His nickname comes from a front-running style that left his competitors strung out behind him. He befriended those same runners and maintained contact with them well into old age. His training techniques were unorthodox. For instance, he was known to train in army boots, or in deep snow. Any of us who have done interval workouts can thank Zatopek—he may have invented 400m repeats. The difference? He did 60, 80, even 100 of them—every day.

Emil Zatopek, giving it his all (Photo: Roger Rössing, Deutsche Fotothek)

There are so many anecdotes about Zatopek that it’s nearly impossible to separate fact from fiction. I give Askwith credit for trying. Some things aren’t in dispute though. Emil taught himself 8 or 9 languages by reading dictionaries. He and his wife, Dana, won 4 gold medals at the 1952 Helsinki Olympics—a count that was second only to the US. Emil won the 5000m, 10000m and marathon, a record likely never to be repeated. Dana won the women’s javelin competition.

Socialist icon or misunderstood hero?

Zatopek may have been the most famous athlete in the world in the late 1940s and early 1950s. Few could match his talent and charisma—he was the Muhammad Ali of his generation. Even after his competitors copied his tactics and started surpassing him, he remained a national hero. It seemed everyone wanted to meet him and feel the warmth of his personality. 

The story that best demonstrates Zatopek’s generosity has him handing a small package to Australian runner Ron Clarke after Clarke visited Emil in Prague in 1966. Clarke had competed at a high level internationally but had come away empty-handed. Zatopek had been the perfect host, readily sharing his training advice. Clarke assumed Zatopek had given him something he wanted smuggled out of the Iron Curtain. In fact, it was one of Zatopek’s 1952 Olympic gold medals. “Because you deserve it,” read the simple inscription. 

Despite the constraints imposed by the Czech regime, Zatopek travelled the world. In fact, he became a sort of role model for socialist ideals. And it’s here where his story gets a bit hazy. Depending on who one believes, Zatopek was either a naive pawn of the regime or a committed agent. He was an officer in the Czech army, so it’s hard to totally accept the former view. However, he had managed to tread a fine line for a long time, apparently avoiding any suspicion of his commitment just by being his gregarious self. Or perhaps by mouthing the words that were expected of him.

Some things may never be known about Zatopek, but it is clear he believed in the concept of socialism. After all, it was how he had tried to live. When Soviet tanks moved in to crush the Prague Spring in 1968, he spoke up for compromise, possibly hoping his celebrity would save him from retribution. Soon after, he was expelled from the army, stripped of his status as a sporting hero, and exiled to years of manual labour in remote work camps. Through it all, he maintained a positive attitude. He was a broken man when he was finally allowed to return to his modest home. Then he suffered several strokes and was all but forgotten when he died in 2000.

Lessons far beyond the track

Askwith is sympathetic to Zatopek, and I found that his enthusiasm for the man clouded his judgment at times. If Askwith is to be faulted, it is for trying too hard. I came to accept Askwith’s case—that there is reason to doubt the worst accusations against Zatopek—and I found it unnecessary that he keep making it.

As for Zatopek, there is no reason to fault him for his eccentricities. He was an intelligent, independent and humble man. I found myself wondering how any of us would have managed in his situation; if our homeland had been first taken by the Nazis, then by the Communists. Zatopek lived and competed bravely, and left us lessons that go well beyond the realm of amateur competition. 

The “Czech Locomotive” was a complex figure, a great athlete, and a gentleman. Askwith’s book is an homage to Zatopek, and there is much to commend it—not least so the reader can decide for themselves how they view the man. I started the book and put it aside for a while. When I persevered, I was rewarded with a complete picture of an astonishing athlete. I’m glad I did.

By the way, the title of the book comes from the comment Zatopek made to his fellow competitors on the start line of the 1956 Olympic Marathon in Melbourne. By then, Zatopek was well past his best form. The day was brutally hot, and he made his remark just as the runners set off for what they all knew would be an extreme physical test. It was a noble gesture. Anyone who has set a challenging goal for themselves and worked hard to achieve it will relate to the sentiment.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Boston Marathon Musings

I’m looking forward to visiting Cafe Books in beautiful Canmore in a few weeks, for an in-store book event.

If you can make it on May 17, I’d love to see you there, for a chat about running, my stroke journey, and of course, my book!

Speaking of running, I’ve almost let the week go by without a blog post, but this week—Boston Marathon week—is too special to pass up. A gutsy performance by one of my teammates, who demonstrated character by overcoming injuries to finish the race, prompted me to start writing—congratulations Jason!

If there is one road race that stands above all others, it is the Boston Marathon. There are many reasons for this, and it would take much more than one short piece to go through them. I can already see more posts being needed!

Why Boston Matters

Boston is a celebration of tradition and history. The race is a tribute to athletic excellence, with many of the great runners having won in Boston—Tom Longboat, Johnny Miles, Ron Hill, Bill Rodgers, Jerome Drayton. It’s a unique sporting event, where the best professional runners compete on the same road, at the same time, with the most devoted amateurs. The crescendo of support—from the quiet country roads of Ashland, to the enthusiastic women of Wellesley College at the halfway point, to the screaming crowds in Kenmore Square—makes every inch of the route special.

Devotion doesn’t begin to describe what it takes to earn an entry to Boston. Talent, dedication, and good luck are also needed. Then, just to get to the start line in Hopkinton on the third Monday in April takes extraordinary commitment, focused training, and more good luck. Those fortunate enough to reach the historic finish line on Boylston Street will have dealt with one of the most devilish, net downhill, point-to-point race courses anywhere in the world; and unpredictable weather conditions that can include everything from torrential rain to blistering heat.

What all the fuss is about… the Boston Marathon route and elevation map

Some context might be helpful. Today, running a marathon is seen by many beginners as part of a natural progression, as an achievement that lets someone call themselves a runner. (That isn’t true, by the way.) For many years, the 42.195km distance was the domain of the sport’s fringe players: tough, sinewy, hard men. Yes, they were almost all men. And while it may have been debated, the Boston Marathon was at, or at least near, the pinnacle of the world’s top marathons.

I think of two eras for the Boston Marathon: pre- and post-1996. You see, 1996 was the 100th anniversary of the race. Compared to prior years, the field that year was huge. Since then, demand for entries has ballooned, as more runners add Boston to their bucket list. To their credit, the Boston Athletic Association (the BAA) found a way to squeeze more runners onto the narrow roads of Route 135 by adding wave starts (and by upping their game on the organization side).

I will add an opinion that may not be popular with some readers. The BAA will never be able to accommodate the demand for entries to this most desirable race. And that is fine with me. Boston has always been (and in my view, should remain) exclusive… it should be an event set aside for those who can earn a place. Opening it up to any and all participants would only dilute what makes the race special.

Personal Connections

I’ve run Boston three times. It’s been such an integral part of my running life—my first running life, that is—that I can’t really remember a time when I didn’t want to run it. Through the 1980s and 1990s, the race was an enigma and a vague aspiration. It was an event that I read about on the back page of the sports section. If I wanted to know more, I would have to dig deep. And I did. But in the days before social media, I had more questions than answers: Where should I even begin? How would I qualify… or enter? My god, assuming I did enter, how would I run the damn thing?

Let’s just say I worked my way up to the race. I call it doing my apprenticeship. Finally, in 2001, for the 105th running, I felt ready to tackle the challenge. It helped that I qualified by a comfortable margin in another of my favourite races, the 2000 Royal Victoria Marathon.

I wrote extensively about my first Boston Marathon experience in Stroke of Luck. It is, quite simply, one of the defining events of my life. My family made the trek to Boston with me, having sacrificed much to make my 25-year dream possible. The race itself was a personal triumph. I planned well and I executed well. I met my optimistic goal by going under three hours. I even put aside my competitive instincts—a little—to smile and wave at the best marathon fans in the world. In short, I finished knowing I had done everything humanly possible to achieve this result. As I said in the book:

“The numbers were impressive and satisfying, but they were only numbers. I was at a loss for words to describe what I was feeling. Years later, I still have trouble. It was exceptional. Momentous. Transcendent. It was everything I had hoped it would be.”

That magical day in April 2001 was the culmination of a long personal journey. I believe that putting substance to my childhood dream, working towards it, and finally achieving it, says more about me than words can ever do.

I’ve been back to run Boston twice more. The experiences were each different and in their own way, worth writing about. There’s no question that for sheer emotional intensity, nothing could compare to the first time I made those famous turns, the ones every Boston finisher will recognize—“right on Hereford, left on Boylston”. Look for more in future posts.

For now, I’ll ride the annual Marathon Monday wave for a little while longer.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Favourite Hikes: Lake O’Hara Alpine Circuit

One of our current home projects is a decluttering exercise. And one of the major targets for cleanup is our collection of photographs. Like many families, we have a box—make that several boxes—full of snapshots. The work of identifying and digitizing keepers is challenging. Still, there is always the element of surprise, as we rediscover treasures from the past.

Archiving “vintage” photographs gave me an idea for a new series—let’s call it Favourite Hikes. Deborah and I have enjoyed the mountain parks for 40 years. We are not the most avid hikers, but we have many fond memories of time spent in the mountains. This series will be a chance to revisit some of our personal highlights.

The Alpine Circuit

Near the top of our list of favourite Rocky Mountain hikes is the Lake O’Hara Alpine Circuit. And we’re not alone. This hike is widely regarded as one of the classic alpine circuits in the Canadian Rockies. By extension, it surely ranks among the best mountain hikes in the world.

Starting at the historic Lake O’Hara Lodge, the Alpine Circuit is a picturesque 11-kilometre loop, which touches several of the highlights of this exclusive region of Yoho National Park. Deb and I have done the hike twice, roughly 25 years apart (last in August 2014). I think we agree that it was a bit more challenging the second time!

Wiwaxy Gap and Huber Ledges

Done in the usual clockwise direction, the Alpine Circuit hike makes the most of the elevation gained from a strenuous 500-metre climb from the lake up to Wiwaxy Gap. Because this climb consumes the first hour of the hike, it makes the rest of the outing that much more enjoyable. Make no mistake though, there are plenty of elevation gains and losses to come.

The climbing begins soon after leaving the shoreline. Hearts will be pounding by the time the col at the base of Wiwaxy Peak is reached. The word “Wiwaxy” means “windy” in the Stoney Nakoda language, and it is an accurate description. The winds can be strong in the gap. If you aren’t breathless when you arrive, the views of Victoria and Huber Glaciers to the north should do the trick!

Although it means a slow loss of elevation, the next segment is a 2-kilometre traverse of the Huber Ledges to Lake Oesa. Finding the trail is easy, with blue and yellow patches marking the way. As we found on a late-season hike on the ledges in 2013, wet or snowy conditions can make the footing tricky.

There are glimpses of the lake as you progress along the ledges, and the feeling of anticipation is palpable.

Lake Oesa and Yukness Ledges

If there is a better spot for a picnic lunch anywhere in the Rockies than Lake Oesa, I’d like to know where that is. Oesa is another Stoney Nakoda word—it means “corner”. There’s some debate about whether the lake’s name is pronounced “oh-EE-sa” or “oh-ESS-a”. However you pronounce it, Oesa is a place you feel you could stay for hours. But, remembering that there is more to see, you finish your lunch, cinch up your boots, and get back on the trail.

Now it’s some easy scrambling on the scree slopes of Yukness Mountain. There are some short exposed sections as you work your way around the Yukness Ledges toward the next major stop at Opabin Lake. The route becomes less scrambly as you approach the lake. There are amazing views of Lake O’Hara along this section of the route, and Opabin is another perfect spot to take a breather.

Opabin Plateau and All Souls Prospect

Opabin Plateau is another area worth exploring—it’s a hanging valley, with plenty of small pools and of course, great views. There’s a short climb up to Opabin Prospect if you are feeling strong. The stone steps crossing the plateau were constructed decades ago by Lawrence Grassi, a legendary trail builder who left his mark all over the Lake O’Hara region.

If the Alpine Circuit is your goal, there’s more work to do—a climb from Opabin to All Souls Prospect. On the scree trail above Opabin Plateau, the route to All Souls may be the toughest part of the hike. Again, the blue and yellow markers are a big help. The viewpoint itself is a scraggly spot on the flank of Mount Schaffer. The spectacular views over Schaffer Lake and the Odaray Plateau make the effort of getting there worthwhile.

From All Souls Prospect, just when your quads least want to know about it, there’s some downclimbing needed, as you pick your way through boulder fields and a larch forest. There’s a gentle stroll past the Elizabeth Parker Hut and the Le Relais campsite before reaching the finish at Lake O’Hara.

Summing Up

It’s worth mentioning that any of the trails that connect to form the Alpine Circuit can be done on their own. There are also many offshoots and logical connections between trails. In fact, the Lake O’Hara region has so many great hikes that I’m already thinking of another piece.

Much has been written about Lake O’Hara. It’s one of those places that’s hard to describe unless you’ve been there. Pictures don’t do it justice. And in this area that’s defined by superlatives, there’s one hike that seems to capture the magic of Lake O’Hara best—the Alpine Circuit. Deb and I feel fortunate to have completed the Circuit, twice.

Until next time, happy trails. Be well, and BE FAST!

Around the Bay – A Personal Journey

When it comes to running history, few races can match Hamilton’s 30k Around the Bay Race. Many greats of the sport have competed in this event since it was first held in 1894, three years before the Boston Marathon. The late Jerome Drayton, one of Canada’s greatest runners, won the race in 1973 and 1974.

It occurs to me that this historic race deserves to have a book written about it. Short of that lofty goal, on this, the eve of the 131st edition of the race, I will add a retrospective piece to share what the “Bay Race” means for me.

The Around the Bay Race

For those unfamiliar with the race, it starts and finishes in downtown Hamilton. The course was measured in imperial units for almost 90 years, before being standardized at 30 kilometres in 1982. To this day, it is one of the few races contested at this distance. It’s a perfect tuneup for anyone planning a spring marathon. Even though the distance has varied, the roughly triangular course has remained the same.

The course has three distinct sections. Really, it’s three distinct personalities. The first 10k skirts Hamilton’s north end, the gritty industrial district that many people associate with the city. The middle third includes a narrow, exposed stretch on Beach Boulevard, between Hamilton Harbour and Lake Ontario. The final 10k through suburban Burlington is notable for rolling hills, which are a test for already tired legs.

As if that wasn’t enough, we must remember that we live in Canada and the race is held the last weekend of March. To state the obvious, weather can be a factor for ATB competitors. (It looks like that might be the case for this year’s edition, but forecasts can be wrong!)

1977 – Into the fray

My personal connection to the ATB goes back to my earliest days in the sport. I first ran the race in 1977, as a novice 16-year-old runner. I wrote extensively about the race in my memoir, Stroke of Luck. Here’s an excerpt:

“That same year, our coach proposed that several of us tackle a unique challenge, the annual Around the Bay Race. Even now it would seem odd to put teenagers through the kind of training needed to attempt this race. His logic was sound—he wanted us to build a base of fitness for the longer track races. … Three of us were signed up for the race. Our training program was simple but surprisingly effective. A couple of times each week, our coach would drive us eight or ten miles from the school and drop us off, and we would run back.”

One of my most vivid running memories is captured in this photo. It was taken by my high school track coach, somewhere along Beach Boulevard. My teammate Mark Orzel and I were battling the elements. Behind us, whitecaps are visible on Lake Ontario. Keen observers might recognize my Tiger Jayhawk racing flats.

According to my handwritten notes on the back of my race bib—showing how much the sport has changed, it’s a stencil on the back of a scrap of floral wallpaper—I would go on to finish in 2:16:19, in 116th place. I was the only one of the three of us to finish. It was a tough day.

Around the Bay, a rich part of Hamilton’s history (Photo: Hamilton Spectator, March 1977)

My impact on the race may have been minimal, but its impact on me was not. In fact, it solidified my growing commitment to the sport. I would go on to try the marathon a few years later and have a lifetime of running adventures after that.

2012 – A virtual showdown

The gap between my first and second ATB race was 35 years. I don’t know where I got the idea to go back and compete against my younger self. Maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched though: Hamilton is my hometown, and I had been a keen follower of the race for years.

The race itself had gone through some lean years in the 1980s and 1990s but was enjoying a renaissance. By the early 2010s, the ATB had pride of place as one of the jewels in the Ontario race calendar. Entries ballooned to the thousands and the 30k race sold out every year. To me, this reflected what was happening to the sport in general, and it was terrific to see.

My plan was to go back and beat my time from 1977. By then, I had decades of running experience. Even though I was a “mature” runner, I thought my chances were good. Quoting again from my book:

“I managed to eke out a small victory in the virtual head-to-head match up, running 2:14:51 but finishing well down in the age group results. As I plodded through the latter stages of the race, I felt myself being transported back to that cold day in March so many years earlier. My exhausted legs seemed to relive every rolling hill on North Shore Boulevard. … I laughed as I ran by a costumed Grim Reaper at the crest of Valley Inn Road who was yelling at us to “D‑I‑E a little out there!” I let this amusing encounter be the beginning of my celebration of this wonderful day. I was overcome by the gamut of emotions. Where had all the time gone?”

It was a momentous day, and not only because I had proven I still had what it took to compete. I treasure the memory of my mother and my sister Carolyn—sadly, both now gone—meeting me at the finish inside the Copps Coliseum. Thinking about them in the context of the race, and the place running has long had in my family, is quite emotional.

2014 – A generation gap opens

Perhaps pushing the envelope of my involvement with the Bay Race, I went back again in 2014. However, this time I had no expectations other than finishing. In fact, the main reason for returning was to share the experience with our son, Daniel. He was rounding into form as a fine runner, and decided he’d like to run this historic race.

I had a tough day. I somehow let myself be psyched out by an adverse race day weather forecast. The thought of howling winds on Beach Boulevard undermined my plans before I’d taken a step. Talk about rookie mistakes! As it happened, race day weather was fine, but by then the damage was done.

The best I can say about the race is that I survived it. Even though I thought I had kept enough in reserve for the rolling hills, they still beat me up. It was a lesson in humility, as I laboured from start to finish. Our ATB rookie, Dan, ran an astonishing 1:54:59. What a performance! I was so proud of him, and I couldn’t wait to see what else he would accomplish.

And me? I was comfortable in the knowledge that I would be an ATB race spectator from then on.

Summing Up

Some races have more impact than others, and Hamilton’s Around The Bay Race is about as impactful as they come. It has a unique place in the history of our sport. It has more than its share of challenges for those brave enough to take it on.

This post has been an opportunity to share a little of my personal connection to the race. I could write so much more!

In short, the Around the Bay Race was instrumental in steering me to a life characterized by dedication to fitness, exploration of my own potential, and fellowship with other runners. It will always be special to me. Maybe that book isn’t such a bad idea…

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Tribute to Gord Hobbins

We heard yesterday that Gord Hobbins had passed away. Deb and I are gutted by the news. The Calgary running community has lost one of its greatest supporters, and we’ve lost a friend of many years. It will take a long time to come to terms with his loss.

Coincidentally, Deb and I were walking near Gord’s Running Store a few days ago. We hadn’t been in that part of town for a while. As we passed the familiar storefront, tucked in a strip mall just off Centre Street NW, we chatted about him. I mentioned that the store was celebrating its 35th anniversary. Gord’s Instagram account had been featuring photos from the 1990s, when the hair was longer and the running shorts were shorter. Okay, too short. We had a laugh about that and recounted a few of our many stories about Gord. But our time was limited and we decided not to drop in. Now I wish we had.

My connection to the local running scene goes back more than three decades. We moved here in 1991, and it would have been shortly after that that I first stepped into Gord’s store. I immediately felt his personal warmth, his enthusiasm for the sport, and his passion for customer service. Of course, Gord’s customers soon became his friends, and that never changed. No matter how long since our previous visit, Gord was the same: genuine, kind, inquisitive. He always took time to chat. Visits to the shop were often stretched, so we could get caught up on each other’s family news. He was totally devoted to Cathy and their kids, Ailsa and Gareth.

Gord coached me for a few years, and he was a natural. He had a hand in preparing me for my first Boston Marathon. His trackside cues at the Talisman Centre… “Steve, relax your shoulders!”… were in my ears on race day in April 2001, and helped me to one of the most memorable achievements of my life. Later, I took up a coaching role in my own club, and Gord was a mentor. When he organized group runs from the store, he was invariably the perfect host, making sure all his sheep got back safely.

Gord and I even shared a similar medical history, having both gone through serious cardiovascular issues. We could each credit a lifetime devotion to the sport we loved for getting us through our unique and challenging episodes.

There was a good reason for the longevity of Gord’s store in the tough retail business: he was the best at what he did. He generously shared his vast knowledge of the latest shoes and running gear. I lost track of the number of times I referred people to him. “Go see Gord,” I would say. “There’s no one who knows more about fitting you for running shoes.”

Gord’s own running resume was impressive too. I first saw his name in race results in Edmonton (his hometown and our first stop in Alberta) in the mid-1980s. At the time, he was running road 10k’s and half marathons. But it would be in ultramarathons that he later made a name for himself.

Gord’s success in ultra trail races was attested to by memorabilia in his store. In fact, the last time I saw him, he told me he was looking forward to completing his collection of carved finisher’s stones from the Lethbridge Lost Soul Ultra. He had run the race many times, so it was no surprise when he finished the 50k in an impressive time last September. (Photo by Mark Moland.)

I’ll miss Gord like a brother. His commitment to the sport ensures his legacy in the Calgary running community. More than that, his passion for making everyone around him better, fitter and happier is what I will remember most. Rest in peace, my friend. We wish his family, friends and staff peace and comfort in the difficult days ahead.

February Sale – Time is Running Out!

February is Heart Month in Canada, and to mark the event, online purchases of Stroke of Luck: My Life in Amateur Athletics enjoy a healthy 20% discount. But act fast, the month… and the sale… are nearly done. Order your copy today on Amazon!

Did You Know?

We all know that February is the shortest month, at 28 (or 29) days, not the usual 30 or 31. But do you know how this came to be?

We have to go back to the Roman calendar, which divided the year into ten (not twelve) months, from March to December. These months were either 29 or 31 days, not 30, because the Romans considered even numbers to be unlucky. The early part of the year was not even named.

The second king of Rome, Numa Pompilius (ca. 753-652 BC) reformed the Roman calendar and introduced the months we know as January and February. However, it would have been problematic for these new months to have either 29 or 31 days. Why? Because the total number of days for the year (that is, the product of 12 odd-numbered months) would have ended up as an even number, not the required 365.

So, February was adjusted to make the annual math work. A couple of reasons are cited for this decision. The name itself comes from the Roman festival of purification, ‘februa’, which occurred at that time of the year. It was also the time when people mourned the departed. These factors led to February being the month that was shortened to 28 days.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Top 5 Athletics Performances

I thought it would be fun to highlight individual performances that have inspired and motivated me. As you’ll see, it isn’t necessary that the person I’m writing about won the race in question. This is all about their effort on the day.

Steve Prefontaine, Munich 5000m Final

I’ll start with a confession: on my own race mornings, I used to watch the video of this great individual performance to get myself into the right frame of mind. BBC commentator David Coleman’s description of Steve Prefontaine, the brash American, as “a sort of athletic Beatle” is classic.

Setting the scene, Prefontaine was running in what would be his only Olympic final, against a deep field. With two slow miles behind them, Pre boldly “states his case” to lead to the finish. As a pack of five separates itself with two laps to go, the Finn Lasse Viren asserts control. Is it over? No, not with Pre in the mix. Time and again, he fights to regain the lead. Coleman’s fateful comment, with 200m to go, that “these are the medal men” would turn out to be wrong, as a totally spent Pre is passed in the last few metres by Ian Stewart. Viren won gold.

Measured by the result… fourth, and out of the medals… this could be seen as a foolish gamble by the inexperienced young American. Instead, I look at it as the epitome of racing. There was no playing it safe for Prefontaine. No wonder I get goosebumps every time I watch the video.

Prefontaine gambles it all, Munich Olympics 5000m final (Photo from Track and Field News)

Mo Ahmed, Paris 10,000m Final

At the risk of repeating myself, I’ve chosen another Olympic finals performance that left the runner out of the medals. This time, it was Canadian Mo Ahmed in the Paris 2024 Olympics 10,000m final.

Ahmed ran what might be the smartest race I’ve ever seen. He stayed out of trouble in a top-class field, paced himself beautifully, and was in contention against team tactics of other runners until the final 30 metres. I thought I might have been the only one who noticed his deceptively smart racing, until I heard David Moorcroft (broadcasting for CBC) make the same observation.

Finishing with nothing in the tank, Ahmed’s performance (26:43.79) was good for fourth place. That he and 12 other finishers were well under the previous Olympic record attests to the quality of the field. It was a spectacular race, and one where Ahmed demonstrated that he belonged with the very best.

Mo Ahmed shines in the Paris 10,000m final (Photo from Athletics Canada)

Paula Radcliffe, 2003 London Marathon

In 2002 and 2003, Paula Radcliffe was on top of the marathon world. She had set a world record in Chicago in October 2002, running 2:17:18, so there was great anticipation for her race the following spring in London. Running before her home crowd, Radcliffe didn’t disappoint. Leading from start to finish, she shattered her own world record, en route to an astonishing 2:15:25. Her nearest competitor was more than four minutes behind her.

I have a tenuous connection to Radcliffe’s race. You see, I was on the same course that sunny April morning in London. Admittedly I finished nearly an hour behind her. I’ve replayed the videos and read the stories so many times to fully grasp what Paula achieved. The strain on her face in the final few kilometres shows how much she wanted this result.

In an era before supershoes and without any team support, Radcliffe delivered a courageous performance, well deserving of being in my top 5.

Filbert Bayi, Christchurch 1,500m Final

In recent years, the Commonwealth Games have struggled to remain relevant. Competition from other mega-events (like the Olympics and the World Cup) and other *um, political* factors have led prospective host cities to back away from the Games.

Whatever the future holds, the Games have been host to some great athletics history. Here’s a case in point. In 1974, the young Tanzanian runner, Filbert Bayi, was relatively unknown. That didn’t stop him from taking on a handful of the world’s best in the 1,500m final in Christchurch, New Zealand. His race was one of the most audacious performances of all time. He led from start to finish and set a world record of 3:32.2. Not only that, he beat the hometown favourite, Kiwi John Walker.

Bayi’s account of the race, in a wonderful Athletics Weekly article, leaves no doubt that he trusted his front-running strategy. “I was confident that anyone trying to close the gap over the last 100m or 200m would have a real fight on their hands,” he states. And with the field in a pack bearing down on him, his plans were certainly put to the test. In the end, Bayi beat Walker by a couple of strides. He knew immediately the importance of what he had achieved. It was a perfectly executed race.

Filbert Bayi leads John Walker and the rest to the finish (Photo from Athletics Weekly)

Roger Bannister, 1954 Mile Double

Even as the 1,500m has largely eclipsed the mile as the middle distance standard, it’s worth noting that the mile continues to get attention. In the last week, the men’s indoor mile record has been broken… not once, but twice. So it is worth looking back to the furor that surrounded Roger Bannister in 1954.

Cheating a little, I will highlight two of Sir Roger’s epic performances. His epic May 1954 run to break the four-minute barrier for the first time is the race everyone knows about. But I would suggest that with his performance in Vancouver at the then-called Empire Games in August, Bannister put an exclamation mark on his miraculous year.

By August 7, Bannister’s record time had already been beaten by Australian John Landy. The Vancouver race was the first time they competed head-to-head. The race generated global hype, and it became known as the Miracle Mile. Although Landy led most of the way, he made a fateful error on the last corner, looking to his left for the hard-charging Bannister. Sensing Landy’s weakness, Bannister passed on the right and didn’t let up. He reached the finish in 3:58.8, five yards and 0.8 seconds ahead of Landy.

I’ve written about Bannister, here and here. What impresses me most about him is that he competed as a pure amateur. As memorable as his exploits on the track were, he never considered them to be his greatest personal achievement.

So that’s my top 5. I could have easily found a top 10, but one has to draw the line somewhere! I’d be interested in any thoughts on these performances, and any that my readers are convinced I’ve missed.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Remembering Jerome Drayton

Recently, I wrote a piece about several of my sporting heroes. To keep the piece to a reasonable length, I didn’t comment on another man who had certainly earned a place on my list. In fact, he had been one of my personal heroes for years. That man is Jerome Drayton. In light of his sudden passing on February 10 at the age of 80, I’m regretting that decision. It seems appropriate to talk about him now, and the impact he had on me.

Much has been written about Drayton. His personal story is one of strength and resilience. He was born in Germany to Russian-Ukranian parents, just as the war was coming to an end. His parents divorced, and he emigrated to Canada with his mother in 1956. His name at birth was Peter Buniak, and while we hear various reasons for his change of name, it was clearly his way of putting distance between his past in Europe and his future life in Canada.

He started running in high school in Toronto and found early success. More accurately, he earned it. His results speak volumes about his work ethic. I can start with his astounding mileage totals. He was a pure amateur, doing 200-mile weeks while working full-time. Mere mortals struggle to reach a quarter of that.

While I was discovering athletics in the mid-1970s, Drayton was already in the top echelon of the sport. I never met him, but I followed his exploits closely. Here’s some of what I wrote about him in Stroke of Luck:

“Coincidentally, the world around us was discovering running at the same time we were. The mid- to late-1970s marked the beginning of what is now called the running boom. Frank Shorter’s win in the 1972 Olympic Marathon for the United States is often cited as the beginning of the boom, but I wonder how strongly that event resonated in Canada. If we were following any world class distance runners, it was more likely to be the top Canadian, Jerome Drayton, or even some of the top British runners like Ron Hill, rather than the celebrated American.”

Drayton’s running resume is stellar. In an era when distance running was still seen as a fringe sport, Drayton fit the stereotype of the lone, somewhat aloof, character. Obituaries and tributes describe his single-mindedness and determination.

In my book, I described Drayton as an enigma, given his preference for running in dark aviator shades and a tendency to front-run against his toughest competitors. Perhaps fitting that persona, Drayton never seemed to say much. He let his running speak for itself.

Consider this: long before Boston assumed the title of “world’s premier marathon”, the Fukuoka Marathon in Japan was at the pinnacle of the sport. Entry was by invitation only. Drayton won it, THREE TIMES, in 1969, 1975 and 1976. What about Boston? Well, he won that too, in 1977. He was the last Canadian man to do so.

Drayton in the 1976 Fukuoka Marathon (Photo from Canadian Running, 2013)

Speaking of Boston, I suppose we could add “irascible” to the list of words describing Drayton. Apparently, he wasn’t the most gracious winner. Rather, he took the opportunity to point out that he had just about been mugged in the early going, and that his victory had nearly been sabotaged by the lack of water stations. Hearing this story only made me admire him more. Any of us who have run the race can thank Drayton for dragging the BAA into the modern era.

I have to mention the most durable of Drayton’s achievements, his Canadian marathon record. He set the record (2:10:08) in the 1975 Fukuoka Marathon, and it stood for an incredible 43 years until Cam Levins broke it in the 2018 Toronto Waterfront Marathon.

There was a Hamilton connection too, which cemented Drayton’s place as one of my running heroes. Here’s another passage from my book, where I talked about his victories in the Around the Bay Race:

“The history of the Boston Marathon is intertwined with that other famous race, Hamilton’s own Around the Bay Race. Both races were first contested in the 1890s. Many icons of distance running, including some legendary Canadians, had competed in both events. The lists of past winners in Boston and Hamilton include many names that I recognized, even idolized. There was Jerome Drayton, the top Canadian marathoner, the national marathon record holder, and the 1977 Boston winner. He was also a two-time winner of the Bay Race, in 1973 and 1974.”

Drayton, alone in the lead at ATB (Photo from Hamilton Archives)

In the 1970s, finding any athletics news at all was tough. I scoured a lot of newspapers. Despite the sport’s relatively low profile, Drayton stood tall. His star shone brightly until his retirement in the early 1980s. When his racing days were behind him, Drayton was a reclusive role model. He appeared from time to time in interviews… this one in Canadian Running Magazine from 2009 is excellent… and when his Canadian record was finally beaten, he was gracious. He expressed surprise that it had taken so long.

In his later years, Drayton took on advisory roles with government sports agencies. He shunned publicity and lived a modest life in Toronto. Some stories mentioned his struggles with arthritis, which may have contributed to his unexpected death. The news reports I’ve read suggest his death came during knee surgery. Sadly ironic, for a man whose legs had carried him to the top of the marathon world half a century earlier.

Jerome Drayton was a true sporting legend, whose place in Canadian sporting history won’t easily be matched.

Until next time, be well and (emulating Drayton) BE FAST!

“So It Goes”

Anyone who has read Slaughterhouse-Five (SH5) by Kurt Vonnegut will recognize this phrase. It stays with you after reading the most famous (or is it infamous?) and arguably the most representative of Vonnegut’s novels.

I’m not sure if SH5 is still required reading in high school English courses… I know it used to be. (I’d be reluctant to guess what required reading might be in high school these days, but that’s another topic.) For my part, I missed the opportunity to read SH5 when I was in school. Perhaps the book wasn’t considered appropriate fare for a Catholic school curriculum.

I’ve only come around to Vonnegut’s works in the last few years. I did read Galapagos in my early twenties, but I found it to be quite forgettable… it certainly didn’t convince me to read anything more by him. Maybe I wasn’t ready for the author’s unique style and keen critical eye.

Something must have changed, because I’ve read three of his books in rapid succession. In this post, I offer my thoughts on what may be his best-known novels. My comments are organized in my order of reading, which just happened to be in reverse order of their publishing date.

Kurt Vonnegut

The author of the books I’m going to discuss is worthy of some discussion himself. Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (1922-2007) was born in Indianapolis, to German immigrants. He attended Cornell University but dropped out in 1943 after being placed on academic probation. He enlisted in the US Army and was deployed to Europe in 1944 as an intelligence scout. After the war, he pursued academic and technical career paths, never quite succeeding at anything. Vonnegut had a couple of stories published in the early 1950s, which persuaded him to give up other opportunities to pursue writing full-time. His success as a writer did not happen overnight.

Slaughterhouse-Five (1969)

It’s a challenge to summarize SH5. At its core, the story is an account of the Allied fire-bombing of Dresden, Germany in the final months of the Second World War. What genre is the book? Good question. There is an element of historical fiction, but it could just as easily be classified as science fiction. Given that the book was influenced by Vonnegut’s time in the US military, we could even label it as a biography. The author was captured by the Germans, and as a POW he witnessed the destruction of the city firsthand.

In Vonnegut’s signature style, there is a sharp satirical edge to the book. Vonnegut makes no secret of his disdain for “military intelligence”. The casual disregard for life in wartime is a theme repeated often in the book… almost sickeningly so. I think that’s exactly the response Vonnegut wants to elicit from us. That’s where the phrase “so it goes” comes from. SH5 was published at the height of the anti-war movement in the US, and it was the book that made Vonnegut a household name.

The main character in SH5 is Billy Pilgrim, a US draftee. The science fiction element to the story is that Pilgrim experiences time travel. He calls it coming “unstuck in time.” I think the message here is that history is bound to repeat itself. I found this to be a very effective tool; one that shows Vonnegut exercising his full prowess as a mature storyteller.

To summarize, I thought SH5 was brilliant. An amazing creative piece… forceful in its social commentary and totally original. Considering the current events in the world, it is as timely now as when it was written. Very highly recommended!

Cat’s Cradle (1960)

Where to begin in explaining this novel?

Cat’s Cradle is a first-person account of the narrator, Jonah, who travels to San Lorenzo, a fictitious and extremely poor island nation. Through an unbelievable sequence of events, Jonah becomes president of the country. At the subsequent inauguration ceremony, an unfortunate incident results in mass destruction on a global scale, when a material called “ice-nine” accidentally comes into contact with seawater.

The book deals with two important themes and manages to touch on several others besides. One major subplot in the book is a fictitious, hedonistic religion called Bokonism. It is the dominant religion in San Lorenzo, seemingly a response by the poor citizens of the country to their dire socioeconomic circumstances.

The book is also a biting commentary on the risks of technology. Ice-nine was invented for military purposes by a brilliant scientist who has complete and callous indifference to the great risks it poses. The obvious parallel is to the proliferation of nuclear weapons, which would have been in Vonnegut’s mind when he wrote Cat’s Cradle in 1960. The story takes the idea of a manmade technological threat to its logical and tragic conclusion.

Only someone with a vivid imagination, black humour and a gift for sharp insight… someone like Vonnegut… could have created Cat’s Cradle. It was a fascinating read, and like SH5, very relevant to the unstable world we find ourselves in.

Player Piano (1952)

Player Piano was Vonnegut’s first novel. It tells the story of Paul Proteus, an engineer and manager of the Ilium Works, one of many large industrial complexes that have radically revamped American society. Machines have replaced human beings in every facet of life. For his part, Proteus becomes increasingly uncomfortable as he is being groomed for an expanded role in the system he helped create. The story turns on a clever “double agent” plot, as Proteus finds himself aligned with other, like-minded rebels.

As compared to the other novels, I found the storyline in Player Piano to be the least risky… maybe even simplistic. There are no tricks with time travel here. I suspect Vonnegut was still finding his voice and his style when he wrote the book. Even so, it is a well-constructed story of an all-too-possible dystopian future. Such a future may have been easy to imagine in the early 1950s, as post-war innovations began to change American society; at least it was for Vonnegut.

Of the three novels, Player Piano had the most impact on me. I accept that as a result of my own work as an engineer and manager. Did my career path make me more sensitive to the sharp commentary that Vonnegut dishes out for these vocations in his grim novel? Probably. I don’t take any of it personally, but I do relate to his criticism of an unbridled drive for efficiency.

The world Vonnegut imagines in Player Piano is devoid of almost all pleasure, at least for the average citizen. For the elite (that is to say, the politically savvy) the upside is limitless, as long as the growing majority of displaced citizens are kept notionally busy and marginally employed. It’s a novel that heads to an inevitable tipping point.

The fatal flaw exposed in Player Piano is a conflation of an unstoppable quest for perfection (in countless industrial processes and even in human interactions) with human happiness. I found myself making connections to recent opinion pieces that assess the risks of the increasing use of Artificial Intelligence in our society. Again, Vonnegut’s story seems eerily relevant to our current circumstances.

I can recommend all three of these Vonnegut novels. In my view, his social commentary is timeless, and that keeps the books current. I want to continue my exploration of his work, to see how well his insights have held up in other areas.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!