No  longer an endurance event, the marathon has become no more than an extended 10,000 meters run in the wake of Wanjiru’s performance.  His laughable series of splits and surges throughout the brutal day just add further disbelief to the historic performance.  In both substance and style Wanjiru flew unperturbed through the zephers of every precept of marathon running.  4:41 for the first mile?!  Are you nuts?  Maybe in London or Berlin or Chicago, the flat, fast big city courses where pacers and cool weather create ideal record attempt racing.  But in championship racing profligage spending of energy would come back to haunt the intrepid for sure in the final 5K. Except it didn’t in Wanjiru’s case. 

1:02:38 through the half!?  Only a handful of marathons had ever registered a faster opening half, and certainly none on an Olympic stage much less on a hot, humid day.  They added no more than a mild irritant to the 5′4″, 112 pound dynamo who now casts his sight on the marathon world record to add to his half-marathon and world junior record over 10,000 meters.

Of the top ten marathon times ever run, Haile Gebrselassie’s 2:05:56 from Berlin 2006 stands out even more than his world record 2:04:26 from Berlin 2007.  The temperature in Berlin `06 was 72 degrees, making it the sole top ten performance run in conditions greater than 60 degrees.  Now add 10-plus extra degrees, high humidity, an Olympic field, no designated, hand picked pace setters, and wild surging.  The mind reels. 

Wanjiru entered the Olympic stadium not on his knees, but in full flight.  He picked it up over the final lap!!!  He wasn’t diminished, just out of territory to run.  He had plenty of gas left in his unimagineable tank.  Yonas Kifle of Eritrea, one of the intrepid five who formed the break away pack through halfway, faded like a real human being would be expected to in the second half.  He completed his Olympic journey in 2:20:03, good for 36th place.  

And let us not forget Morocco’s Jaouad Gharib, the two-time world champion and close runner up in the Chicago heat bath from last October.  Gharib’s brave silver medal in 2:07:16 also shattered the long-standing Olympic record 2:09:21 set by Portugal’s Carlos Lopes in L.A. `84.  Gharib was dropped at least five times throughout the course of the day, yet each time he managed to claw his way back into contention, except after Wanjiru’s final move at 35K when Ethiopia’s Deriba Merga also let go the tow line.

Americans Dathan Ritzenhein and Ryan Hall both acknowledged the temerity of Wanjiru’s run. 

“To run 2:06:32 in this is incredible,” said Ritz, whose left hamstring and calf cramped badly just past 30 kilometers, but who held on to finish 9th in 2:11:59.

“They went out really fast,” said Hall, tenth in 2:12:33, hoping for better after his 2:06:16 at the London Marathon earlier this year. “I thought it was way too hard, at least for me. I would have died if I went out that fast.”

Then, both Hall and Americ’a third Olympic marathoner, Brian Sell (22nd in 2:16:07) tempered the brutality of the conditions.

“It was definitely warm out there, but not as bad as I was expecting.” - Ryan Hall.

“It was not as bad as I had thought. It wasn’t stifling, but it wasn’t easy.” - Brian Sell.

So, was it the brutal 85 degrees we kept hearing on NBC or not?  Either way, 21 year-old Wanjiru is the undisputed new king of the marathon world, if, that is, he’s even from this world.

END 

Television executives are nothing if not followers, and what they follow is the money.  So when 35% of women name swimming as their favorite Olympic sport (and only 8% track and field), it is not surprising that NBC chooses to replace track with swimming in the key primetime viewing hours.

With track mired in a cycle of drug accusations and disgraced heroes, and swimming sporting Michael Phelps and Dara Torres in the Olympic Q-factor ratings, perhaps none of this should be a surprise. 

At least USATF’s new CEO Doug Logan has stepped out vigorously with an anti-doping agenda.  I was pleased by his tone in his latest blog on USATF.org which spoke of the need to triple USATF’s annual operating budget ($15 million) to bring track back in line in the business world of modern sport.  The trend lines in Olympic interest point to the ailment.  Now all we need to find are the solutions. (more…)

If all goes as planned, my wife and I will be attending an Opening Ceremonies viewing party tomorrow night.  We didn’t plan it; some friends of ours did.  What a great idea to generate some excitement around the Games.  It’s probably not too late to send out some last-minute e-vites® to folks in your area, cook up some finger foods, stock the fridge with beverages, and watch the opening festivities in style.  Who wants to view the triumph of the human spirit alone, anyway?  That’s just depressing…

I just heard that Lopez Lomong (who has a pretty cool Web site … is this the new trend?), the former Sudanese “Lost Boy”-turned-1,500-meter Olympian, will carry the American flag.  Now that’s something I can’t wait to see.

And if tomorrow night is too soon to throw a shindig together, then plan something for another evening or two during the Olympics.  Maybe broadening the reach of our sport (and the Olympic spirit in general) is as much a grassroots movement as it is organizational policy.

Link directly to Gilbert’s posts by clicking here.

As you’ll read, Gilbert’s story is nothing short of miraculous.  He should be dead right now, not winning 10Ks, running 2:20 marathons, or coaching Austin-area runners.  See, Gilbert is from Burundi, where a violent civil war broke out in the early ’90s pitting two ethnic groups — the Hutus and the Tutsis — against each other.  A violent Hutu mob approached Gilbert’s school on October 21, 1993, surrounded it, and allowed the Hutus inside — many of them Gilbert’s close friends — to come outside.

With only Tutsis remaining inside the school, the mob chained the doors and set the school on fire.  The fire burned for hours before Gilbert, badly burned himself but alive, escaped through a window and ran away from the Hutu mob with his back on fire.  The 18-year-old doused the fire in a small pool of water before dragging himself to safety.

The subsequent story is quite long, but Gilbert would go on to attend Abilene Christian University in Texas (my alma mater) on a track and field scholarship, where he was a six-time all-American and a member of seven Division II team track titles.  Post-college, Gilbert moved to Austin, where, working for Paul Corroza’s successful RunTex store, he began winning local races and motivating thousands.  He even began coaching a group of area wannabe adult and child runners — called “Gilbert’s Gazelles” — motivating them with his knowledge of the sport and inspirational story.  He also trains and dreams of representing his home country, Burundi, in a future Olympiad.

(you can read Gilbert’s harrowing story in its entirety here)

Why does this matter?  Because stories like Gilbert’s are what may connect our sport to the masses.  It is inspirational.  It touches all who hear it.  It gives hope.  It represents humanity at its best — and worst.

I think of Lopez Lomong, the former Sudanese “Lost Boy”-turned-Olympian who will represent the U.S. in the 1,500-meter run.  There are probably others who have overcome great odds to make the Olympic team.  I would assert that stories like Lopez’s (and hopefully Gilbert’s in a future Games) may be just as important in the marketing run-up to the Olympics as the promise of blistering times from Jeremy Wariner.

What do you think?

“I’m delighted to be in this position,” the 64 year-old former Major League Soccer CEO told the teleconference.  “As the staff will learn, I keep a picture on my desk from 1980 of me dressed in clown makeup.  It’s a reminder not to take myself too seriously.”

Yet he takes over an organization with serious problems and challenges, including a mandate by the USOC to fundamentally change its governance model and streamline its bloated board of directors. (more…)

It was the summer of 1984 when my Olympic dream began.  I just turned 13.

With the Games already in full force in Los Angeles, my father made the impulse decision to load the family in the beat up station wagon and drive the 700 plus miles from Ashland, Oregon down to southern California in order to soak up the Olympic experience.  We certainly didn’t have event tickets, nor could we possibly afford them. My dad figured we could just find a spot on the street, along the end of the marathon course, and watch the women’s marathon enter the stadium. 

Once we arrived in LA, I remember getting up extra early and driving towards the stadium on a hot summer day to catch a glimpse of the race.  We found a parking spot which seemed like ten miles a way and trudged towards where the marathon course met the stadium entrance.  As we got closer and closer we could hear the stadium speakers blaring that Joan Benoit (now Benoit Samuelson) was opening up a huge lead over the field.  Our excitement grew and we walked faster hoping to get a good spot on the street.  By the time we reached the course, the streets were so crowded that there was no chance that my dad and his three boys could ever find an open spot to watch the runners go by.  The speakers from the stadium continued to scream that Benoit was still leading with just a few miles to go.  We could now here the crowd inside the stadium chanting “U-S-A, U-S-A, U-S-A…”

At that moment my dad told my oldest brother, Bob, to stay with me and Tim.  He said that he would be right back and for us not to move.  I saw my dad disappear into the huge crowd.  Ten minutes later my dad emerged with a huge smile on his face.  He had three tickets in his hand.  He gave them to us and told us to run as fast as we could to the stadium.  We looked at him and asked him why he wasn’t coming.  He just kept on smiling and told us to run, FAST!  As the three of us raced towards the stadium with tickets in hand, I turned around and saw my dad standing there laughing.  I later learned that my dad found a scalper and bought three tickets that were being sold for an outrageous price.  He had just enough money for three tickets.  It was probably all the money he had for our entire trip to California.

The three of us boys entered the stadium.  The ushers pointed us towards the Olympic Flame and told us our seats were at the very top row, right under the Flame.  We climbed the hundreds of steps and found our seats moments before Benoit entered the stadium.  It was the most thrilling experience I have ever had.  Over 100,000 people screaming “U-S-A, U-S-A” were in complete hysterics as Benoit came charging in with her silver uniform and white cap in hand.   At that very moment I wanted to become an Olympian and I spent the next 20 years doing everything I could to become one.  It was not to be. 

However, this blog isn’t about an Olympic dream unfulfilled.  I would, in fact, argue the opposite.  After all, I learned how to chase something with reckless abandon.  I learned how to believe in myself and not some statistic.  I learned how to risk it all.  I learned that I am capable of wrestling the wolves until I am spent.  Perhaps this is what the Olympic dream is really about.  Thanks, Dad. 

PJ