We were world record holders

 

Taking a few hours away from the recent helter skelter of the office work at the Grandma’s Marathon headquarters, I attended a reunion for the North Shore Striders, a running club that has long since disappeared into the ether but a club that inspired the concept of starting a large marathon along the North Shore of Lake Superior.

About 125 people returned from near and far, and for the first time since 1976, it was a chance for myself and four friends— two former college roommates— to reunite and rekindle our friendship. Among other things, our conversations volleyed from family, careers, creeping (creaking) old age, and our days as runners for the University of Minnesota Duluth (UMD) track team.

And of course, it didn’t take too long before the topic of our discussion centered on our attempt to set a world record for the 24-hour five-person relay. And while we were successful, none of us quite made it on the cover of a Wheaties cereal box. Nonetheless, it was quite the undertaking, though there was little planning involved. Practically none, in fact. We just made sure we had music and water, and we had enough doughnuts to refuel us as we circled the cinder track at UMD’s Griggs field about a million times. Or more, it seemed to me.

From L-R: Brian, Duane, Neil, Dave and Mike

Keeping track of our miles was Scott Keenan, a future college roommate who would start and direct Grandma’s Marathon for 38 years. And Kim Grtytahl, a quarter miler on the men’s track team. Then too, there was Maria Shepeck, a quarter miler from Cloquet who ran on the girls’ track team who was there to count laps and cheer us on.

So, who are these colorful characters I signed up to run with?

First, Duane Wagner, Hermantown. A preacher’s son and a National Merit scholar who would go on to have a long career as a geologist working in the Texas oil fields. Duane is the father of two grown children. He still periodically works as an oil field consultant, but these days mostly, he and his wife travel and spend time working out and cooking at their new home in Denver, Colorado. Wags, as he was called, was always a great cook. Duane, who held the steeplechase record at UMD for more than 30 years, doesn’t run anymore but competes as an inline skater.

Neil Franz was the group instigator. The idea man. He roomed with Duane and me and another track runner, Paul Iazzio. Neil always had interesting thoughts and was tremendously good at inspiring us. For example, I’m pretty sure he came up with the plan to try for a new world record in the five-man relay. When asked where this notion came from, he patiently answered “Probably Runner’s World.” the bible of running, as it was then called.

“You know, Lars, Runner’s World kept track of those things. I think it started as a ten-man relay, then nine man and eight, and so on. We noticed the five-man record was soft and decided to go for it.”

Still, he doesn’t claim he started the thought process of running endless miles around a track. And no, we weren’t smart enough to change directions every other mile. Because of that foe paw, I’m pretty sure we all leaned to the right—physically after this endeavor for weeks to come.

Runner’s World was different than the glossy tome put out today. It was a hardy, hardcore runner’s manual that cared more about explaining how to fix your running shoes than how to sell you one hundred kinds of new, fancy footwear. It was filled with medical advice for runners, the latest carbo loaded diet that could keep you in fuel after 20 miles of running a marathon. Interesting information like that. That said, doughnuts weren’t part of any carbo-loading diet mentioned in the pages of Runner’s World, as every one of us would rudely discover two-thirds of the way through our run.

Today, Neil is a husband and father of two grown daughters and a new granddaughter, Sophie, one-month-old. He long ago retired as a lawyer. Neil ran every Grandma’s Marathon, dropping out of the first and then withdrawing after ten miles last year because of the pain in his knees. One knee has been surgically fixed, and another needs to be operated on, but his doctor has told him his running days are over. That doesn’t mean he will ever stop working out; only now, it will be bicycling, skiing, hiking, etc. He’s still fit as a fiddle and is in the Grandma’s Marathon Hall of Fame.

Dave Wicker was a star miler/three miler at UMD. He and his wife Julie— herself a record-setting long-distance runner at UMD– have two grown children, a boy and a girl. Amy, Dave and Julie’s daughter, ran 10:43 for 3,200 meters in eighth grade at Duluth East and broke the record held by Olympian Kara Goucher. She never ran faster, but that was and is a heck of an accomplishment. Dave retired from teaching at Duluth East a few years ago, but he still coaches track and cross country at Duluth East. Scott Keenan assists him in cross country. If Dave was close to you coming down the stretch in a track race, you might as well move aside and let him go by. He had a tremendous kick. Dave still jogs, but not for distance; instead, he jogs for 45 minutes or so when he gets out. He promises to come to Grand Marais to chase brook trout with me.

And then there was Mike Scott, the kid from Arlington Heights, Illinois. Mike was a fast miler. A seriously funny, smart kid who had a lot of talent but was injury prone. Like myself, Mike would run one year at UMD and then retire from the sport. Instead, Mike picked up weightlifting, working out with Duluth’s Mike MacDonald (multiple world record holder in the bench press) at UMD. After his sophomore year, Mike would return to Illinois, join a powerlifting team, and compete in powerlifting. Today Mike is the father of two grown children and is employed as a Nokia Software Account Manager, US Cellular, in the Chicago area. He lives on a golf course, and his entire family plays golf, but Mike isn’t a serious golfer, preferring instead to tackle lawn/housekeeping care on his short weekends away from work.

24 hours

We chose Memorial Day to try for our record attempt, running in our training shoes, not spikes. First, we set up a small tent. Then we set up speakers in the bleachers pointed at us so the music could dissuade us from the monotony of running endless laps while carrying a baton. Rock and roll was coming from those speakers (Boston, the Eagles, Chicago, Rolling Stones and on and on) for the entire time we ran. Legendary UMD Football Coach Jim Malosky wasn’t happy that we had taken over the football field, but what could we do? We had teammates come out and cheer for us. Some brought treats. Mike Scott said the girls on the team gave us rub downs on our legs and that’s pretty much all he remembers but I don’t think I had any messages. Pretty. Darn. Sure. I never got any leg messages.

But then, I don’t think I ever spent one second in the tent.

Our goal was to stay under six-minute miles. After 20 miles, Neil came to me and said he wasn’t going to make it, so (he reminded me of this at our annual Sunday breakfast after the marathon) “You took one for the team. You ran a 6:02, and the pressure was off.”

Mike Scott’s 7:37.6 mile broke the record of 227 miles. And then we walked the last mile. We covered 231 miles-1,479 yards. I crossed the imaginary tape when 24 hours was up, the baton in my hand and the awful taste of jelly doughnuts coming up the wrong way in my mouth. And then we went home, showered, slept, dreaming of future races and records we might set.

Our “World Record” lasted maybe a month. Then, a five-man team from France broke our mark, and we were no longer record holders. As for General Mills? No one ever called in the month or so we held the record. This is still a little bit disappointing, but it’s never too late to correct an oversight. Even at this late date I’m pretty sure the guys wouldn’t mind being on the cover of a Wheaties box. I’ll be sitting by the phone patiently waiting in case a call comes in.