The original gangsters of running were all about going fast. Then faster. A few of us got distracted by the allure of mileage accumulation. But, basically, never quit trying, fast as we could go, even if it killed us. Many lessons were learned. Some heeded. – JDW
Why write about a guy who runs 2:12:31? A hundred-thousand reasons. Simple as that. Or maybe not. Keith Brantly wins the national marathon championship on “a bitch of a course,” runs a PR, and all anybody wants to talk about is the $100,000 he earned.
Brantly could care less about the money: “I’m really stoked I got a personal record. I haven’t been in the right place at the right time and done the right thing since 1993.”
The 36-year-old erstwhile 5000m specialist ran his first – and until Pittsburgh, last – big PR of 2:12:49 placing 5th at New York in ’93. “That’s much easier in terms of effort,” he reports. “I’m a better athlete today, smarter and stronger.”
That he is racing at all is something of a surprise. Forget the money. Heck, forget the PR. Brantly is just happy to be running without pain: “I was injured most of ’97. I tore a hamstring tendon at Crescent City. I thought my career was over. Injuries. That’s the reason most athletes get out of any sport. Very rarely are we in control at the end of our careers. I always wanted to be the one who decided when I would get out.”
He can make that decision now. He can afford to. “I was really behind the 8-ball. I started back in full this past January. Trained with Jerry Lawson for 7 weeks – not all at once, 7 weeks cumulatively. I’d train with him for a week, then home, spend some time with the family, then head back to Jerry’s. I never went above 100 miles per week. I ran 90-95M weekly.”
He feels no urge to get into triple-digit mileage, analyzing, “You can always get into triple digits if you measure by kilometers. I’ve tried higher mileage before but I just end up ragged. Logging a lot of slow miles just to log a lot of slow miles doesn’t make much sense unless you need to build a base. Everything I did for Pittsburgh was fast.”
Brantly earned his Pittsburgh fortune the old-fashioned way. He worked for it: “The money is not my thing – I want to run fast. Think about it. Took me almost five years to shave 20 seconds off my best time. You have to temper dreaming with realism.”
On this day, realism meant a bold move just 11 miles into the race. If this race was a trial run on the Olympic Trials course, would he make a similarly bold move in 2000? “Eleven miles, that’s far enough into the race so, if you’re an experienced marathoner, if you know the course, if you know yourself… Yeah, I might do the same the next time.”
Brantly hasn’t put the last Olympics behind him. Still. “I trained like hell for Atlanta; really busted my butt. I based all my preparation upon racing hard over the last 4 miles. Then when I went to press down on the accelerator, I discovered I was out of gas. The tank was empty.” He still can’t believe it. “I just came up with zero energy.
“Pittsburgh was more important for me than you know. I am so disappointed in my performance at Atlanta. Finishing 28th, I had a crappy race. I ran a good effort. That’s the heartbreak of the marathon.
“To me, the marathon is not just a difficult race to prepare for or to run, it’s a difficult race to predict. I was ready to go to Barcelona in ’92. My family was ready to go. And I didn’t make the team. Making the U.S. Olympic team in 2000, that’s the sole purpose of my running life.”
There are more than a couple of athletes, all faster, all younger, standing in his way. “The bottom line with the Olympic Trials is nothing before that day matters, absolutely not a damn thing,” offers Brantly. “I absolutely refuse to believe just because somebody has a PR that’s five minutes faster than mine he is going to keep me off the team.
“I want to retire after Sydney. I have other things I want to do, like be a father.”
And another big payday? “Everything in my athletic world is running PRs. Money has never been a factor. As corny as it sounds, you cannot give me enough money, absolutely not enough, to replace a PR.
“A PR is better than gold. Or cash money. A PR is tangible evidence you have gone beyond what you could do in the past. It shows you that you have achieved. I like to challenge myself. The money will be long gone but the PR and satisfaction will last forever.
“I realized long ago,” continues Brantly, “that money can’t buy happiness. A $100,000 can buy me a lot of things but anything I need I already had. You can’t purchase time. You can’t purchase freedom.”
Then there’s the road topic du jour – Kenyans. “People think I don’t train as hard as the Kenyans. I’ve trained with them, because I wanted to know for myself,” Brantly explains.
“And I found out – I do train as hard. I’m simply not as talented. I’m driving as hard as they are, but I don’t have as big an engine. They just have bigger engines. Big, big engines.”
He doesn’t want to see special purses for American runners, explaining, “Frankly, it would be embarrassing for me to win more money than somebody who beat me. I am not interested in being the first American. I am interested in being the first guy to cross the line.”
And he isn’t interested in being the Fastest Blond Floridian: “It is embarrassing to be mentioned as the first American to cross the line in Atlanta. It’s pathetic if you have to reach that far for your accolades. I’d have much rather finished 15th and been the third American.”
Keith Brantly runs without pain. A national champion. He is faster than ever. More importantly, for any athlete who yearns for greatness, he has his head screwed on right and tight.
He has all the money he needs.
If he just had a bigger engine.
January, 1998