Marathon Man
In a nutshell
The autobiography of Bill Rodgers, four-time winner of both Boston and New York. According to the reviewer, a book you simply have to read in full rather than pick bits out of. Reviewed by Luboš Brabec.
Who it's for: Every marathoner and fan of marathon history.
I read Marathon Man a year ago and wanted to write something about it long ago. But on the one hand I somehow couldn’t find the time, and on the other I thought, what is there to write about a book that simply has to be read, a book you can’t just pick bits out of like canapés from a tray. But now I have a bit of time, and maybe it’s not a bad idea to mention at least a few of those bits.
I knew Bill Rodgers’ name before reading it, of course. I had a rough idea of his times, successes and significance. But I had never seen him race; I only caught up with that recently on YouTube.
That made his life story all the more tempting. And from about page three I knew I’d made a very good choice. A superbly written book. The story unfolds on two levels: it tells the course of the 1975 Boston Marathon (which Rodgers won for the first time, in an American record of 2:09:55) alongside the story of Rodgers’ life.
He was one of the big three of the first American marathon boom of 1972 to 1982, together with Frank Shorter and Alberto Salazar. If Shorter was said to be the brain of this new generation, Rodgers was its soul. A free spirit and a hippie. That’s also why Marathon Man is not only his life story but also a reflection of America from the late 1960s to the early 1980s.
It took Rodgers a long time to realise that running would mean more to him than a nice hobby. As a university student in the flower-power era, he could handle a party at the girls’ dorms on Saturday and a 30-kilometre run with a Boston Marathon winner on Sunday. He muddled through university, above all by frequently changing his major. He went round a circle that included German literature and ended with sociology.
A bohemian in running shoes
He enjoyed racing but didn’t take it deadly seriously. Besides, after university he had more important things to deal with than personal bests. How to avoid being drafted to Vietnam. How to make a living. In the end he didn’t have to join the army, but he faced something like civilian service. He ended up in a hospital, where, as a “traitor to his country”, he was given menial tasks like moving dead bodies from the wards to the morgue. When he then tried to set up a union, he got fired from that job too.
Photo: Frank O’Brien, Globe Staff | The Boston Globe, April 21, 1975 / Bill Rodgers wins the Boston Marathon.
In those years Rodgers was never far from a cigarette or a whisky. A real bohemian, in torn, faded jeans and with long hair. But he did come back to running. At twenty-five. Excited by the idea that one day he’d like to run the marathon in Boston, practically his home town. He had to crash hard there twice before he won it. But then he managed it four times. At first as a complete amateur. As he says, runners of that generation worked like crazy all year just to win an olive wreath and a bowl of beef stew in Boston. They could have done plenty of other things, but they loved running and racing.
After being fired from the hospital he tried teaching. Among other things, he worked as a care worker at a school for children with disabilities, which isn’t exactly a restful job. On top of that, the headmaster didn’t like him. He did allow him to train during the lunch break, but he always stood by the stairs checking that Rodgers was back in time for class.
Even in conditions like these Rodgers managed to run a marathon under 2:10. Only after thirty did he become a pro who occasionally took under-the-table appearance money and made a living from the running shop he opened in Boston. He slaved away, worked hard, trained, but he never worried much about his lifestyle. He had stopped smoking, of course, but his staple food was pizza, and he ate enough mayonnaise for three lifetimes.
Although he won bronze at the World Cross Country Championships and ran plenty on the track, he was a classic road runner. The marathon and other road races were his thing. He won 22 races over the classic distance, mostly with very strong fields. Twenty-eight times he ran under 2:15. And he was no speedster. His best mile was 4:18, which even high school athletes can manage, and he never broke two minutes for 800 metres.
The best autobiography
He won Boston four times and New York four times, he was named the world’s best marathoner in six seasons, but he has no Olympic medal. In Montreal in 1976, as the main favourite, he finished only fortieth in the rain and with an injury; four years later he didn’t go to Moscow because of the political boycott, of which he was one of the loudest opponents (President Jimmy Carter apologised to him for it years later); and at 37 he failed to qualify for Los Angeles.
In the starting field you could recognise him by his headband (usually), white gloves (sometimes) and the letters GBTC, the name of his club, which he painted on his vest himself. His way of racing was extravagant too. When he needed a drink, he simply took a short walking break. During his American record he even had to stop and tie his shoelaces.
He had, and still has, great charisma. He appeared on the front pages of newspapers and magazines, on TV shows, at talks. People were curious not only about his performances but also about his opinions, because he could talk interestingly about almost anything. An inspiring personality. Old school, in the best sense of the word.
That’s also why I put Marathon Man at the top of the running autobiographies I’ve read.
This review was written by Luboš Brabec. Luboš is a Czech sports journalist and also the author of three running books. I consider his first book, Maraton a jiné pošetilosti (The Marathon and Other Follies), one of the best I’ve read about running. These days I’m more motivated by the perspective of an “ageing” runner and his desire to take on one more marathon with dignity. I’m looking for the recipe in his book Ještě jeden maraton (One More Marathon). And if I manage all that, maybe I’ll get to run a race with Daniel Orálek. Thanks to the book Můj dlouhý běh (My Long Run) I know almost everything about him. If that’s not enough and you’re a sports fan, especially of the NHL or the German Bundesliga, follow Luboš on Twitter.
