I watched the 1968 Olympics and was inspired by what I saw. So, in the fall of 1968, I decided to go all out in a routine half-mile cross country workout in 8th grade PE. I did so well, finishing fifty yards ahead of the next kid, the teacher suggested I turn out for track in the spring.
Gordy Braun raced against Henry Rono and Alberto Salazar and Rudy Chapa, so you could argue he is an Original Gangster Of Running.
He raced them, but he did not beat them.
Gordy Braun did all the work, but he just could not get where he wanted to go. He was a Wannabe Distance God.
Wannabe = aspiring = direct one’s hopes or ambitions towards achieving something.
Distance = anything longer than three thousand meters.
God = Joan Benoit, Frank Shorter, Prefontaine.
And in the end, if we are lucky, after, say, the initial ten thousand miles. we understand there is only one first place winner and only so many spots on the podium, so we better damn well get something else out of this EFFORT. This PASSION.
When did you start running?
Running as sport entered my awareness when I placed second in the 50-yard dash at the Seattle Fire Department picnic in 1961. I was five years old. So were all the other guys in the race.
I saw Jim Ryun on “Wide World of Sports” and on the cover of Sports Illustrated around the time he was breaking world records in the mile. I watched the 1968 Olympics and was inspired by what I saw. So, in the fall of 1968 I decided to go all out in routine half-mile cross country workout in 8th grade PE. I did so well, finishing fifty yards ahead of the next kid, that the teacher suggested I turn out for track in the spring. I was thrilled!
And that’s how a short, skinny, shy boy found his sport.
Toughest opponent and why?
There were three elite high school runners in the Class of 1973 in Washington State: Jim Brewster won the 880 as a sophomore in 1971 and again as a senior in 1973. He also beat Reed Mayer of Snohomish High School in the mile in 1973 to become a double winner that year. Jim went on to run at Washington State. Reed won the mile in 1972 as a junior and beat me at state cross-country in the fall of ’72. He went on to run at Duke. I won the state two-mile in 1972 and 1973. So, both of these guys were tough and talented for sure. But I didn’t race them often.
The opponent I had the most trouble with was a guy in my league named Larry Woodworth from Roosevelt High School in Seattle. Larry had a blazing fast finish! The strategy against Larry was always to get as big of a lead as possible and hold on for dear life. In the dual meet in 1972, I had a twenty-yard lead heading into the home stretch of our 880 race. I could hear him coming, but all I could do was hope he ran out of track. We both PR’d in 1:57.7. They called me the winner that day, but it could have gone either way.
At the state XC qualifying race that fall, the course set up perfectly for Larry. It was a short 1.9 mile course and the last 600 yards were as flat as a pancake. I had a huge lead when we came out of the hills and made the right turn onto the flats. I glanced over my shoulder and started getting that helpless feeling again. I was going as fast as I could go over that last 600 and he was gaining on me with every step. He caught me at the tape. Officials called it a tie. But you know what? I think he beat me that day.
Most memorable run?
I’m going to give you two memorable races.
Running under 9:00 for the first time will always be my favorite and most memorable race. It’s the race that put me on the national map. I had tripled the previous two weeks and a lot of the people were there to see me, curious to see what I could do at two miles when fresh. It was the state qualifying race. I was the defending state champ at two miles. A perfect night at Husky Stadium. Temperature in the low 70’s. Rubberized asphalt track.
I came through the first lap in 61, told myself to settle down and throttled back. I heard the meet official at the mile yelling splits, “4:21, 4:22, 4:23” and the crowd let out a cheer. I remember thinking “8:42, not bad.”
Running all alone, I slowed thru laps 5, 6 and 7, but when I heard “7:51, 7:52, 7:53” at the gun lap, I knew I had sub-9 in the bag. I thought to myself, “I can run a 67 in my sleep.”
I lapped the first guy heading into the back stretch, lapped another guy going into the last turn and another guy coming out of the last turn. 64.6 for the last lap. And that’s how I broke nine minutes for the first time. 8:55.6.
At a business meeting forty years later, a guy I had never met said, “I remember you when you were at Shoreline. I ran for Seattle Prep. You almost lapped me at District. I was barely five yards past the start / finish line when you got done. I ran a PR that day, too.”
*****
Another memorable race was in January 1971. I was a sophomore in high school and hadn’t run a step since XC. A teammate called me on Friday to see if I’d be interested in running a 25k road race the next day. I said, “Sure.” I had no idea how far 25k was.
There were probably twenty-five entrants in the race on a three-lap course that took us up one side of the Duwamish River and back down the other side. It was raining and maybe 38 degrees. I was wearing gray cotton sweat pants, a gray cotton sweat shirt and my Puma trainers.
My sweatsuit must have soaked up ten pounds of water, so I held up my sweat pants with a free for at least two-thirds of the race. I finished the race, though. I don’t know my time, but I had two bloody nipples and the worst case of crotch rot in history. After this race, I always made it a point to know exactly how far we were running.
Biggest disappointment and why?
My college career was a huge disappointment. After a solid freshman year where I set the freshman school record for 3 miles (13:43), PR’d twice in the mile (4:10, 4:08) and placed in the dual meets with Oregon and Oregon State, we had a coaching change at the University of Washington.
I did not improve during the ensuing two years of high mileage and pointless junk intervals.
I was injured for all of my senior year in college with what turned out to be a partially detached Achilles tendon.
What would you do differently if you could do it again? Why?
I would have run the International Prep Invite against Craig Virgin instead of Golden West.
I led 31¾ of the 32 laps in my four sub-9 races. (McChesney jumped me at the start of the gun lap at Golden West, but I passed him coming off the turn with 330 to go). I finished all of those sub-9 races with last laps of between 61- 63 seconds, so I always had something left in the tank. I think I could have chased Craig to a much faster time on a much better running surface. Craig had seven of the top ten two-mile times that year. I had two of the top ten. I would have liked to have one of those times be under 8:50.
I could run off of any pace and I finished fast. If only I could have tucked in behind Craig Virgin for eight laps on a nice track instead of leading the whole way at Golden West and District and State and Rose Festival . . .
BTW Gerry Lindgren and Rick Riley, both from the state of Washington, ran in the 8:40s in the 1960s. Sneaking ahead of Rick on the list would have been cool. Gerry was in another league.
Favorite philosopher? Quote?
Joseph Campbell: “The fates lead him who will; him who won’t they drag.”
I was mostly dragged myself.
Special song of the era?
There was way too much good music to pick any one song. But I’ll offer up a few albums that come immediately to mind. Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon.” “Them Changes” by Buddy Miles. The first album by “Average White Band.” And “Closer to It” by Brian Auger’s Oblivion Express.
Favorite comedian?
Steve Martin. I’d say more except, in the words of Steve Martin, “Some people have a way with words, and other people…oh, uh, no have way.”
What was your ‘best stretch of running’? Why do you think you hit that level at that time?
For six weeks in May and June of 1973, I was on top of the world. I was doing high-quality workouts and I was supremely confident in my ability because of the results on the track. Success begets success.
May 4: Metro League North Division: 4:11.7 / 1:56.9 / 9:34.9
May 11: Metro League Championships: 4:17 / 1:56.0 / 9:24.9
May 18: District Meet: 8:55.6
May 26: State: 8:58.1
State and district were at Husky Stadium in perfect weather on a nice rubberized asphalt track. The UW hosted the 1971 NCAA meet and 1972 AAU meet (or vice versa). So, it was a fast track.
June 9: Rose Festival: 8:54.1
June 16: Golden West: 8:53.2
What was your edge?
I was lucky to be born with a natural talent for running and a productive case of obsessive-compulsive disorder.
What supplementary exercises did you do?
None
What was your toughest injury and how did you deal with it?
I was babying a tender Achilles tendon going into my senior year of XC in college after overtraining for the previous two years. I ran a great race (for me) at the Pac-8 North Division race, placing 8th behind Henry Rono, Sampson Kimombwa and Joshua Kimeto from WSU and Alberto Salazar, Rudy Chapa, Terry Williams and Dave Taylor from Oregon.
You were up against a Murder’s Row of Hall of Famers. Congratulations on a great eighth.
But that race was essentially the last high-level race of my career. My left heel blew up after the race. Treatment didn’t help, so I limped through my senior year in track in 1977. I finally had it surgically repaired in December 1977, six months after graduation. It still bothers me to this day.
Did you run after college?
I dabbled in running after college with the vague hope that something might come of it. I was a club runner for Club Northwest. I dug out my running journal just for you Jack! I ran maybe a dozen track races between 1978 and 1983. The best year was 1980 when I ran a 9:04 two-mile and a 14:30 5000. I also ran the occasional XC race with the boys from Club Northwest.
Tell me you did some racing on the roads.
I ran quite a few local 10k road races in the early to mid 1980s and usually placed pretty well. I ran 4 marathons, the fastest was 2:24 in November 1979 in Seattle in the pouring rain. The last race I actually trained for was Boston in 1985. I ran a qualifying time at the Seaside Marathon in February by running 2:28 and then placed 49th in Boston six weeks later running 2:32.
Now?
I walk a ton. There are some cool trails near my house in Bellingham. Every now and then I get the urge to break into a trot when I’m out on one of my walks. When this happens, I trot until I don’t feel like trotting anymore, which is usually after a minute or two. And the next day, my left heel always hurts. And then it will be several weeks before I get the urge to trot again.
Of course, any thoughts about the sport, then and/or now are welcomed.
I had my time in the sun and I’m grateful for that. But, man, I would love to be an OGOR.
Gordy Braun is an OGOR, sure, but maybe just as good, even better, he was a Wannabe Distance God.
Epilogue
Our exchanges have brought up some stuff for me that I didn’t expect. That said, I wanted to give you a more complete answer to what might only be intimated from my answers to your questions.
On page one of Kenny Moore’s book, “Bowerman and the Men of Oregon,” Kenny describes a conversation with his coach. Bowerman says, “Are you in this simply to do mindless labor, or do you want to improve? . . .You can’t improve if you’re always sick or injured. . . .For three weeks, you are not going to run a yard except in my sight. . . If I or any of my spies see you trotting another step, you will never run for the University of Oregon.”
I love this passage. I could have used a Bill Bowerman in my life when I was nineteen years old. We’ll never know if that one factor would have changed the trajectory of my running career, but if I had time machine, I’d hop in and go back to find out.
With gels and super shoes! I’m with you, brother!! Oh, and young knees.
As an old man, I’ve come to accept the fact that I’ll never get over the disappointment of not achieving more in the sport. What makes the disappointment somewhat palatable is that I’ve had enough good stuff happen to me over the years to offset the bad stuff. I can honestly say that I’ve had a good life.
I’m healthy, I have food on the table and I live surrounded by the beauty of my home in the great Pacific Northwest.
The bottom line is that I worked my ass off as a runner and deserved better than I got. It was the way the cookie crumbled for me.
I get it. I don’t like it. But I get it.
I wanted to be a distance god. There. I said it. I would’ve broken out of the lead pack and surged away, thrown down some impossible splits, devastated the elites as I stretched my lead, merciless, alone…almost floating. The field would’ve strung out and withered behind me as I burned and buried the best runners on the face of the planet. I would’ve become immortal. Was that too much to ask? See, running consumed me—sometimes like love, sometimes like cancer. – Tim Tays, Wannabe Distance God