After a race in Kansas City, someone said to Charlie, “I wish I could run like you.”
His reply was, “What about me? I wish I could run like Mark Curp.” – Steve Pierce
Google Charlie Gray Runner USA, you get this from Rink’s Rambling’s: He won only one state championship taking the two-mile his senior year. He enjoyed an outstanding career at Central Missouri State where he won a small college national championship in the steeplechase. Following college he became the dominant road racer in the Kansas City area for the next fifteen years.
When did you start running and why?
I started running in junior high school in West Virginia, competing in the mile. During our gym class fitness runs, I was usually near the front of the pack, and I quickly realized I was better at running than I was at most other sports. I wasn’t particularly big or strong—I was 4’8″ and weighed about 85 pounds at age 14—so football and basketball coaches weren’t exactly recruiting me. Running gave me an opportunity to compete, and I discovered that I didn’t mind the discomfort that comes with pushing yourself. In fact, I enjoyed the challenge.
Toughest opponent and why?
It’s difficult to single out one competitor as my toughest opponent. Looking back, my toughest opponent was probably myself. Most of my disappointing races weren’t the result of someone else beating me—they came from not performing to my own expectations. The athletes I raced against certainly pushed me, but my greatest challenges usually came from within.
Most memorable run and why?
Most people would assume my most memorable races would be winning the Kansas 5A two-mile championship as a high school senior or winning the NCAA Division II 3,000-meter steeplechase as a college junior. While those were special accomplishments, two of my most memorable races involved Frank Shorter.
If the question were “Who did you most enjoy competing against?” the answer would definitely be Frank. As a 1972 high school graduate entering Central Missouri State University, I vividly remember watching him win the marathon at the Munich Olympics. He was an inspiration to an entire generation of runners.
The first time I raced him was at a low-key six-mile race in Houston in the late 1970s. My college roommate and teammate, Ron Tabb, and I were living and training in Houston at the time. Frank was the featured runner, and I don’t think anyone expected a particularly competitive race. Inspired by the opportunity, I decided to throw caution to the wind. I blasted through the first two miles in 9:06 and found myself leading.
Meanwhile, Frank and Ron were running much smarter races behind me. I kept waiting for the inevitable collapse, but somehow I held on. At three miles I was still leading. At four miles I had opened a gap of roughly 220 meters. My thoughts shifted from “Where am I going to drop out?” to “Maybe I can actually win this thing.” By five miles I was still ahead, and suddenly victory seemed possible. I ended up winning in 28:06, with Frank and Ron finishing around 28:40.
The second memorable race came at the Kansas City Hospital Hill Half Marathon. Again, Frank was the featured runner, and I happened to be running well at the time. We ran side by side through the first eight miles. On a long downhill stretch he opened a lead of about 50 yards, but I stayed close and eventually finished about 12 seconds behind him.
What made that day unforgettable wasn’t the result. After the race, Frank was being interviewed by a local television station. In the middle of the interview, he had to step behind a sign and throw up a little bit from the effort. I remember thinking, “Wow, I made Frank Shorter work that hard.” I still smile when I think about that race.
Biggest disappointment and why?
My biggest disappointments weren’t specific races but rather the occasions when I fell short of goals I had set for myself. Most runners know the feeling—you finish a race knowing you probably could have done just a little better. Those moments tend to stay with you longer than many of the victories.
What would you do differently if you could do it again? Why?
Honestly, I’m not sure I would change much given the circumstances at the time. If anything, I might have increased my marathon training mileage somewhat beyond the 70 to 85 miles per week I typically ran.
At the same time, life requires balance. I was trying to be a husband, father, full-time employee, and competitive runner. You can’t devote all your time to one area without sacrificing the others. Looking back, I feel good about the balance I struck.
Favorite philosopher? Quote?
I’m not sure who originally said it, but one of my favorite sayings is:
“Some days’ you’re the dog, and some days’ you’re the hydrant.”
It’s a humorous way of describing life and racing. Some days everything goes your way, and other days you’re on the receiving end of disappointment. Running has taught me to appreciate both experiences because neither one lasts forever.
What was your ‘best stretch of running’?
Surprisingly, I would say my 40s through my mid-50s. I wasn’t running my fastest absolute times, but I felt I was producing some of my best age-graded performances.
At age 41, I ran a road mile in Tulsa and finished a close second in 4:11 behind a former sub-four-minute Kenyan miler. During our prime years he would have beaten me by more than 10 seconds, but as master’s runners the gap had narrowed to only a couple of seconds. In 1995 I was honored to be named the US Masters Runner of the Year.
Another highlight came at age 56 at the Garden of the Gods 10-Miler. Everything clicked that day. Despite the hills and training only about 40 miles per week, I ran 1:04:02, a performance I’m still proud of. I’ve always loved the 10-mile distance.
Later that summer I attempted my first Pikes Peak Ascent and finished under 2:55. As I’ve often joked, I’ve heard there’s only one hill on the Pikes Peak Ascent.
And so why do you think you hit that level at that time? What was your edge?
My best guess is that I may have benefited from not overtraining during my younger years. I never put in the extremely high mileage some elite runners did during their prime years, so perhaps I accumulated less wear and tear.
By the time I reached my 40s and 50s, I still had enough durability left to remain competitive. Once I turned 60, I noticed the inevitable decline in performance, but that’s part of aging.
Today, in my early 70s, I’m simply grateful that I can still run at all. My goal is to keep running—or jogging—as long as my body allows.
What supplementary exercises did you do?
I was never much of a weight-room enthusiast. As I got older, however, I found road cycling to be a great complement to running. It allowed me to maintain aerobic fitness while reducing the pounding on my legs.
Cycling also led me into duathlon competition. I was strong enough on the bike, and my running gave me an advantage over many competitors. Although I can swim well enough to stay afloat, I never ventured into triathlons.
Special song of the era?
“Another One Bites the Dust” by Queen.
For whatever reason, that song occasionally pops into my head during races. When I would pass another runner, I’d hear that chorus playing in my mind. It always made me smile.
Favorite comedian?
There are many great comedians, but I’ve always enjoyed George Carlin.
What I appreciated most was his ability to make people think. Slapstick comedy can be funny, but Carlin often delivered observations that seemed ordinary at first. A few seconds later, you’d realize how clever and funny they really were.
What was your toughest injury and how did you deal with it?
Every injury feels like the toughest one when you’re going through it. What I’ve learned is that recovery becomes slower as we age, and each setback tends to cost a little more fitness than we’d like.
Right now, I’m recovering from a torn quadriceps tendon. The loss of stability and agility has taken much longer to overcome than I originally expected. That’s part of being over 70-years-old.
That said, I’ve never been very good at giving up. I’m determined to regain as much function and activity as possible. I may be slower and not quite as strong as I was in my younger 60s, but I still plan to keep moving forward.