I learned how to run before I could walk, at least from an athletic perspective. Celebrating the 20th anniversary of the New Albany Walking Classic®, as highlighted in this issue, elicited a vision dating back 54 years. At that time, I was considered a pioneer in the marathon world and competing in a walking-only race like the Walking Classic was certainly not an opportunity that presented itself.
My life portfolio includes being a competitive marathon runner and walker, a race director for both the walking and running communities, coach, founder of a successful running club over 50 years ago in NYC that remains strong today and author of hundreds of publications. I relate to physical activity by virtue of acquired wisdom.
Each issue, my attire relates to a theme or article in the magazine. The tee shirts you see here were collected in the early days of my running career. Just one problem. I was a skinny kid during my running days and wore a size small shirt. Imagine trying to get a size small to fit in the 2024 edition of my body. I struggled to make it happen and judging by the photos, it’s obvious this was no simple task.
Phil Heit
My shirt size from 50 years ago is but one reminder of then versus now. Check out the plaque I won in the 1972 NYC Marathon. I placed 33rd. Feedback from friends at the time was not flattering. In Brooklynese, their response often was, “So what’s special about getting tirdy-tird place. I cudda done betta.” Of course, there were 350 runners and, in those days, everyone who ran marathons was a well-trained athlete. Today, when visitors to my home see my plaque, they are impressed thinking that I placed 33rd out of over 50,000 participants in the present-day marathon. Wishful thinking.
As I reflect further, so much has changed over the past 50 years. Races conducted for charities did not exist. You ran solely to compete rather than raise money for an organization.
Today’s technology was non-existent. When I was race director for the 1978 Olentangy Run, one of the first large races in Columbus, the finish line was in Ohio Stadium. As runners crossed the line, they were given an index card with a number written on it representing one’s place. You proceeded to a table where you wrote your name on the card and turned it in. The results were posted later in the day.
I remember running in the Boston Marathon in the year Jock Semple, the race director, grabbed Kathy Switzer at the beginning of the race and pulled her off the course because “women were not permitted to nor capable of running a marathon.”
I think about running in Central Park and often sharing thoughts with Jim Fixx who wrote The Complete Book of Running, a New York Times best seller, in which he shared the merits of this neophyte sport only to have succumbed to a heart attack during a training run.
Perhaps I may write a book one day about the early days of running and how it served as a foundation for the walking movement. Maybe, just maybe.
