Distant Heroes

An Athlete's Search for a Graceful Exit.

"That? Okay. Actually, it was faster if you factor in the condition of the cinder track in the mud."

Then he began, in earnest, to describe what it meant to win the only gold medal for the United States in the 5,000m. First of all, Schul went in to the race as the favorite. He had recently run the fastest time in the world (13:38 at the Compton Relays on June 5, 1964) and had told the press, "I’m the man to beat." Americans paid little attention to this brash remark (or to Schul) because most of the media was focused on the U.S. milers. Over in Europe, however, "The track nuts ignored the mile. They were bowled over by Schul’s achievement. ‘This is the single most significant development in American track in ages,’ said the experts on the Continent," (Arthur Daley, The New York Times).

"It came out to be the perfect race for me," said Schul. "I kept saying I can do anything I want. If they wanted to run from the gun I said, ‘Let’s go!’ If they wanted to wait and sprint, well, that’s okay too."

Schul was prepared for any type of race because of the grueling training regimen he’d endured for the previous three years. Under Mihaly Igloi, whose philosophy was "every day hard training must make," Schul ran endless sets of 100’s, 150’s, 200’s, and 300’s with 2 x 800m "relaxed" in between sets—often taking over two hours to complete the interval sessions. All of the work was on the track and all was done in spikes. For the first two years of his training, Schul worked-out with the legendary Los Angeles Track Club (a club Igloi created after leaving war-torn Hungary; his dream was to make the United States the "Distance Running Power of the World,"[LA Indoor Games Program, 1964, p.22]). The third year, Schul left Igloi and the LATC to train alone while finishing his degree at Miami University of Ohio. "It was like leaving a second father," he said. "I always give Igloi the credit even though after I left I made some changes to his training. When you were with Igloi, Igloi put it in your mind that you were the best. In every part of history there’s a personality that takes over, yes, an undeniable force of personality."

I was thinking there’s certainly no personality in distance running today with that kind of impact, when Schul jumped up from his chair. "Hey, do you want to see the tape?"

"You mean, you have a copy of the ‘64 race?" I asked, incredulous. "How come no one’s ever seen it?"

"I don’t know. I guess no one’s interested."

"Are you kidding?" I choked, "All of us track geeks would kill for a copy." We finally left our Interview camp out on the back porch (after 7 hours) and headed in to the TV room. Schul fumbled around in a box of videos. "I think this is it," he said, and put in the tape. Unbelievable.

"Unbelievable," was all I could say, as the runners lined up: Schul, Jazy, Clarke, Keino, Norpoth, Ballie, Dellinger, etc. (seven former, current, or future world record holders in one race).

It was raining. They were all wearing cross-country spikes, one inch long! Their backs were streaked with mud after only two laps. This was a distance race! The pace slowed and all the players were in it. Another lap, then another. Waiting . . . waiting. It was going to be a mad, electrifying dash to the finish. Oh-my-god! With 600m to go Dellinger took the lead, then Jazy at the bell. Screaming. Schul can never make up that gap. No way! But he’s setting sail; incredibly, he’s closing on the back-stretch. He’s up on Jazy’s shoulder now. Both of their faces are grimacing—rain, mud, sweat, fear. Effort. Pure effort. Then, I see it. I can see the confidence in Schul’s face. "Igloi put it in your mind that you were the best." A father’s words. One more 100m interval after hours, and days, and years of 100’s. One more. For everything. For all time. For the gold.

"Play it again," was all I could say after he crossed the line.