THE more you look at the picture above, the more shocking it seems.
Runner
No. 261, the one they are attempting to kick off the road, is K.Switzer - a
bona fide member of Syracuse Harriers. She's paid her entry fee, done her training, and
was quietly running the marathon like all the rest of them.
So
what exactly had runner K.Switzer done wrong? Well, she was a woman, that’s
what! And I can personally vouch for that fact, for a while ago she visited my
house in Essex and had a cup of coffee and a nice chat with us!
The
picture was taken in April 1967, the event was the famous Boston Marathon, and
the crazy-looking character attempting to wrestle Switzer off the road is Jock
Semple, the Scottish race director. Jock was screaming “Get the hell out of my
race!” determined not to have his event upstaged by a woman. In those days
marathon running was seen as an ‘inappropriate’ activity for the female sex and
if any women sneaked themselves into a race this was the sort of reaction it
might produce.
Fortunately,
Switzer’s boyfriend of the time, Tom Miller (in dark shorts), hurtled across
the road moments after this picture was taken, and spectacularly barged Semple out
of the way. Ms.Switzer continued in a state of shock, finished the race, and the
world of marathon running was changed for ever.
Kathrine
Switzer clocked a modest 4 hrs 20 mins for the 26.2 miles that day, but altered
the course of sporting history. Within a few years women could freely and officially
enter Boston, and other marathons, and no longer had to be wary of potential
attack as they ran. Kathrine went on to fulfil her potential as a top runner (a PB
of 2:51), and became a women’s sporting icon, and lots more besides. But what
happened in the picture above is what first made her famous.
So
what was she doing at the house of your Clapped-Out
Runner in Essex, sitting in the conservatory and sipping my rather hesitant
attempt at making a quality cup of coffee for a famous person?
Well
it just so happens her partner is Roger Robinson, author and ex-international
runner, and the couple were passing through my neck of the woods and took the
opportunity to drop by and pick up a copy of my latest book, which Roger was
kindly reviewing for a USA running magazine.
As
the couple strolled into our house, I was momentarily tempted to hurtle towards
Kathrine and bundle her into the flowerbeds, screaming “Get the hell off my garden
path!” in a Scots accent - just for a laugh, you know, just to check her reactions after all
these years. Of course that wouldn’t have been in the slightest bit funny, and
I dismissed the thought quickly.
Kathrine
must have told the tale of what happened mid-race at the 1967 Boston Marathon thousands
of times, but she does it so well it bears repeating here:
“I
was so surprised and frightened that I slightly wet my pants. I had never felt
such embarrassment and fear. I’d never been manhandled before and never even
spanked as a child, and the physical power and swiftness of the attack stunned
me. I felt unable to flee, like I was rooted there, and indeed I was, since the
man, this Jock guy, had me by the shirt. Then a flash of orange flew past, and
hit Jock with a cross-body block. It was Big Tom in the orange sweatshirt. There was a thud – whoomph! – and Jock was
airborne. He landed on the roadside like a pile of wrinkled clothes. Now I felt
terror. We’ve killed this guy - my God we’re all going to jail!”
Jock
Semple didn’t die, 20-year-old Kathrine Switzer never went to jail, but the next day’s newspapers
were full of pictures of her and life was never quite the same again.
(* Check out Rob Hadgraft's books on champion runners of yesteryear:
http://amzn.to/1C2BjUK or visit www.robhadgraft.com)