Tag: Races

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!

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.

What’s Gone Wrong With Athletics?

I like to keep up with news from the wonderful sport of athletics, but I’ll admit to some recent frustration. I regularly scan the headlines from online sources, having largely given up on print media. I’m always interested in results from major road races and track meets around the world. To a lesser extent, I follow developments in equipment, training techniques and nutrition.

Lately, it seems that all I’ve read about is controversy. Some examples…

  • Twelve years after the race, competitors in the women’s 1,500m final at the 2012 London Olympics are still being disqualified for doping infractions. The race has been called the “dirtiest of all time”, with five of the 12 racers now banned. Maybe the last three finishers shouldn’t give up hope for a medal yet.
  • Two competitors in a collegiate 5,000m event were disqualified for wearing shoes that didn’t meet NCAA regulations for “stack height”. One racer set a massive PB in the shoes, the swift-sounding Nike Streakfly 2.  If only they’d stuck with the lowly (and lower?) Streakfly 1…
  • A runner and social media influencer was banned for life from the Chinese Half-Marathon Championships after she was discovered to have worn a fake race bib. Not surprisingly, the perpetrator claimed she had been duped. The race is clearly popular: it received more than 150,000 applications, of which less than 10 percent were accepted.
The dirtiest race in history? (Photo from Daily Mail Online)
The Nike VF2. Too stacked? (Photo from Canadian Running Magazine)

I could go on, but you get the idea. It’s all rather depressing. In my opinion, these stories detract from what I believe is STILL the greatest of sports. Athletics is getting harder to love.

The Problem

I’ll explain what I think the problem is, and it starts at the top echelon of the sport. It’s money. Pure and simple. Athletics has become a big, commercial business. There’s a lot at stake in the Olympics and other major championships. As a result, exciting races and great individual performances (and there are many) frequently get lost in controversy.

Cheating seems to affect athletics more directly than other sports. And I believe that stems from athletics being the most accessible of sports. Comparatively speaking, while none of us will make it to the NHL, any of us can lace up a pair of running shoes and find a road or trail to run on.

The accessibility of running is both good and bad. It’s good because of the health benefits that accrue from an active lifestyle. The negative part is that we can become overly influenced by other people’s opinions about what defines success in this sport. Today, influencers are everywhere. Technology imbues every aspect of the sport: race results are micro-analyzed, every kilometre is measured, workouts are instantly posted to Strava. Heck, our watches even estimate our recovery time… can anyone tell me why this is necessary?

Do I need this? (Photo from Garmin, for the Enduro 3)

All of this creates extraordinary pressure to always be improving. There’s a trickle-down effect, from elite athletes to self-appointed experts to average runners. We can wear the same carbon-plated shoe, use the same GPS watch, and gulp down the same gel as Eliud Kipchoge, while we chase every second in the marathon. And why not? What’s a few hundred bucks for the latest super shoe, if we would gladly spend thousands more once the shoes earn us that elusive race entry we’re seeking? (That reminds me of another recent headline. The 2025 New York Marathon received a record 200,000 applications for lottery entry… that’s up 22 percent from 2024. Good luck!)

I need to emphasize that the vast majority of runners compete fairly, and there is nothing wrong with taking advantage of the available technology. We have to recognize that some will be tempted to cross the line; many more will lose sight of what’s really important.

The Way Forward

A quest for constant improvement and achievement might make sense if we were professional athletes. (Not the doping stuff, of course.) But the fact is, we’re not.

From my perspective, which is that of an average runner… a pure amateur… with his best days behind him, let me offer a few thoughts on how we move on from these challenges.

First, recognizing that most of us will never make it to the top tier of the sport, we should celebrate rather than fight against this reality. To do that, we should define where running fits within our specific life puzzle. How you balance work, family and running is unique to you. Success in the sport should mean different things to different people. Give yourself permission to do your best, to let your performances ebb and flow, and most importantly, be content with the results.

I’ve written about the joy I now get from what I call photo runs… where I swap a GPS watch for a camera. For me, it’s been a way to get back to the carefree days when I took up running as a teenager. Then, I was an open book. I loved the freedom that came with running on a wooded trail or a quiet road. I ran in the shoes I had, and I used a cheap Timex watch. I discovered the rich history of the sport and followed great runners… true role models… before anyone had heard of doping.

If you are willing to ditch the influencers and find your own path (I call it finding your why) I think you might be better off. If that path becomes a journey to finish all six (sorry, seven) Abbott World Major Marathons, that’s fine. But if it means enjoying easy runs around a local park with friends, while wearing budget shoes, that’s fine too. Maybe better, in fact.

And me? I should stop scanning the headlines.

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!