My Story: Winning the Inaugural Jacksonville Marathon and Running It Again After 40 Years
Forty years ago, I won the inaugural 1984 Jacksonville Marathon. It was my day when the light finally shined on me. I ran a stellar 2:17:41 and qualified for the 1984 US Olympic Marathon Trials. Surprisingly, I placed first in a field that included several world-class and national-caliber runners. I read about some of these athletes in running magazines or watched them on television as a teenage kid. My Jacksonville Marathon experience was a dream come true, culminating in years of hard work, learning from disappointments, and defying everyone, except a few, who were unaware of my elite capabilities or the strength of my heart.
I will be toeing the line again this year, but this time as a 63-year-old after a near forty-year hiatus from the sport. I started training for the race one year ago to see how much I could learn about my older self and what I could accomplish. In the process, I have transformed my body and rekindled my runner’s spirit. No longer focused on athletic prowess, my goal is to share a commemorative experience and hopefully inspire others to get a little uncomfortable, set a goal, and live in the present, no matter their age.
I was fortunate to be a runner in the 1970s and 1980s, and my generation was inspired by runners before us, such as Jeff Galloway, Jack Bachelor, Frank Shorter, and Marty Liquori. These were Olympians who trained in Gainesville with the Florida Track Club, one of the first elite running groups in the US. These athletes, particularly Frank Shorter, who won gold in the 1972 Olympic Marathon and silver in 1976, significantly contributed to the running boom in the 1970s. No longer a fringe sport, cities across the US and the world, such as New York and Paris in 1976, Chicago in 1977, and London in 1981, began hosting major marathons run through their landmarks and featuring their civic pride. Money started flowing into the sport, and by the early 80s, runners were finally allowed to receive over-the-counter compensation. The women’s marathon was eventually legitimized with the first Women’s Olympic Marathon in 1984. Long-distance runners who had few opportunities to showcase their talents after college now had a visible venue to compete. Mainstream marathon running became a movement full of curiosity, energy, and enthusiasm. Elite runners during this era overcame the lack of information, technology, and resources with a hard-core work ethic and pure love for the sport.
I’m fortunate that I competed during this time and distinguished myself by winning the inaugural Jacksonville Marathon. Due to my obscurity, my victory was unique. In fact, race officials questioned my legitimacy. They thought I may have been an impostor such as Rosie Ruiz, who infamously claimed victory in the 1980 Boston Marathon by jumping into the race one-half mile before the finish line. After carefully reviewing all checkpoints, race officials eventually announced me as the winner.
However, I was a legitimate yet inconsistent small college athlete from Pennsylvania without an extensive running resume. I just turned 23 and was making my third marathon attempt. Before Jacksonville, I was a two-time Division III All-American cross-country athlete, and my most significant credential was placing 7th in our national championships during my junior season. I made a last-minute decision to run my first marathon a week after failing to win our national meet the following year. I managed a 2:26:07 in the inaugural 1981 Philadelphia Independence Marathon with beaten-down legs and ridiculously poor racing shoes. A year later, I brought my time down to 2:21:42 with fresher legs and better shoes but only two months of training. With these two results, I was convinced I could qualify for the Olympic Trials if I could train injury-free for several months. Almost giving up due to an injury the following year, I gave my dream one more shot with a four-month build-up before the qualifying period closed.
Although it was a new marathon, I chose to compete in Jacksonville due to its winter weather and flat topography. But I also knew the city was a booming sports town and would be a fun place to compete. This city just received its first professional football team, the Bulls, which competed in the upstart USFL. The Players Championship at Sawgrass quickly became one of the world’s premier golf events. The River Run was becoming one of the country’s most highly regarded road races since its inception in 1978. With its proximity to Gainesville, an enthusiastic running community had also emerged in the city.
The qualifying time for the Olympic Marathon Trials was 2:19:04. I had a vague notion that I had a chance to win in Jacksonville as this time would sometimes win a regional marathon. But once I looked at the race’s roster a day before the event, I immediately forfeited any thoughts of victory. The lineup featured the late and great Paul Cummings, one of the world’s premier track athletes, a 2:12 marathoner, and the current (at the time) world record holder for the half-marathon. He would win the 10,000 meters in the Olympic Trials in Los Angeles a few months after Jacksonville and made the 1984 Olympic team. Keith Brantly, an elite collegiate runner from the University of Florida who would later be a World University Games Champion and US Marathon Olympian, would be making his marathon debut. Fellow Gator John Rogerson, who would soon become an SEC 10,000-meter champion, was also registered to compete. The field included the late Barry Brown, who trained with the Florida Track Club, had a national reputation, and would later break the US Masters Marathon record in 2:15:15. Bill Fisher and Carl Hatfield, all-time greats from Colgate and West Virginia Universities, were also in the field. I also respected Dan Skarda, a small college runner like me, who ran for legendary coach Allen Carious at North Central College in Illinois. I was just a young, unknown runner from Greencastle, PA and Gettysburg College who paid for his race registration and travel accommodations to compete.
My strategy was to run a steady 5:18 per mile pace, giving me a narrow cushion below the qualifying time. I shyly lined up at the start’s second row, feeling unworthy of sharing the front with athletes such as Cummings or Brantly. With the gun going off, I was instantly horrified by ever-so-slightly clipping one of Cumming’s heels. Fortunately, the incident did not affect Cummings or me, and I began executing my steady-pace strategy. I found myself running alongside Carl Hatfield, who appeared to have a similar plan. Feeling discomfort, I told Hatfield after a few miles that I felt we were running uphill. He quickly snapped back, reminding me we were running downstream along the St John’s River. I eventually told him after the five-mile mark that I needed to feel free and just had to go, therefore I abandoned my race plan by increasing my pace by five or six seconds a mile.
I may have been among the top five or six runners when I crossed the half marathon mark in 1:08:50. Still, I was minutes behind Brantly who was on 2:11 pace. However, I was ecstatic to be well below sub-2:19 pace and intended to continue at the same rate. Over the next few miles, I passed several runners, including Cummings who obviously wasn’t having a good day. I eventually learned that Brantly was no longer in the race. Hitting the painful 21-mile mark, I unexpectedly found myself in second place with Rogerson in view but well ahead.
With the Olympic Trials becoming a reality, I focused on maintaining my pace. However, a bicyclist began encouraging me to go after Rogerson. I eventually believed him sensing that Rogerson was feeling his attrition, and I was getting closer to him every mile we ran. With two or three miles remaining, I was confident I could catch him. However, I wasn’t sure how he would respond as he was a quick track runner, and I had lost so many big races because of my slow kick. I, fortunately, had more reserves than Rogerson and confidently passed him without a response about a mile from the finish. I soon ran over the bridge and prepared for my surprise celebration at the finish line. Fortunately, Rogerson also qualified for the trials. Maddy Harmeling, Kathy Leonard, and Cindi Girard, the top three finishers in the women’s race, qualified for the very first US Women’s Olympic Marathon Trials.
I had a great time! I qualified for the Olympic Trials! And I astonishingly won a significant marathon! No one knew I was this good, except for that quiet hidden voice that I had in my head since I was a child that told me, “I am special, and I can do great things.” I traveled alone, but I called my mother collect using a payphone at the Atlantic Bank Building lobby to share my good news. Shortly after talking to reporters and enjoying the awards ceremony, I humbly began my three-mile walk back to my hotel, saving a few dollars in cab fare.
Five months later, I limped over the Olympic Trials’ finish line in 75th place after suffering leg cramps and heat exhaustion during the race’s final stages. My time was 2:28:44, the worst among my four marathon performances. Still, I’m pleased that I struggled, even walking sometimes, to finish the race. Five months later, I experienced a foot injury that quickly ended my running career.
Doug Kurtis would break my Jacksonville course record the following year, then again by Mark Sheehan in 1986, and finally by Jerry Lawson, who still holds the record at 2:14:33, in 1992. Lawson would eventually run 2:09:35, breaking the official American marathon record. Three-time Jacksonville Marathon champion and Florida State legend Herb Wills would also surpass me in one of his victorious finishes. However, I’m proud to still have one of the five fastest times in Jacksonville Marathon history and all the runners ahead of me had significant national or international reputations.
Although my experience was not unique for runners during my era, the environment in which we trained and competed was different than today. I deeply felt the cultural pressure to get started with my career right after college rather than pursue my dreams. Therefore, after graduating from college, I had a full-time management training job with a commercial bank in Philadelphia. As a result, I ran under 90 rather than 120 miles per week, typical mileage for an elite marathoner, because I needed more time and energy to train fully. I didn’t strength-train with weights, practice yoga, or cross-train as we had limited access to facilities. I did not have a coach and diagnosed and treated my own injuries. I worked out alone and didn’t belong to a community of like-minded athletes for training and emotional support. Some runners were beginning to get sponsored by a running shoe brand, a running shoe retailer, or maybe a local beer distributor during my era, and they typically received athletic gear and some travel support. However, I did not receive support or compensation during my short-lived career. I was one of two runners who wore a blank racing singlet during my Olympic Marathon Trials experience.
I was naïve regarding nutrition and a novice cook. Therefore, I ate lunch at McDonald’s Monday through Friday, and pizza and pasta were my staples for other meals. My only access to running information was through two monthly running magazine subscriptions. I rarely drank water and never consumed energy or nutrition products to fuel my body during races. I’ve never had the opportunity to train at high altitude. Although my racing shoes were far better than the ones that I wore in the 1970s, they do not compare to today’s carbon-plated shoes, which I understand can improve marathon performances by up to 3.4%. This would have possibly reduced by finishing time by more than three or four minutes. Despite these limitations, the elite marathon community during my era was deep, and we ran fast times.
In hindsight, I wish I had a few more years of running to see what I could have accomplished. I’m sure that I could have shaved a few minutes off my time. I also relinquished the opportunity to build a strong marathon resume as top American performances seemingly dwindled over the next several decades.
However, I am happy that I explored other areas of life. Within a few years, I earned an MBA and an international degree. I eventually found my calling outside running and enjoyed a 25-year career implementing social impact programs in new and fragile countries. I lived in Kazakhstan for several years after the fall of the Soviet Union, and I later worked in Egypt. My most satisfying professional experience was leading an agriculture development program in South Sudan for six years as the new country achieved its independence. I’m also incredibly proud to be a father of two adult children. Now in my 60s, I’m a leadership coach helping people and organizations grow and accomplish great things.
My message to younger distance runners is that unless you are one of the special few, you do not need to center your identity behind a big-brand Division 1 program or feel insecure that you are not good enough to turn “pro.” I understand that 22 of the top 100 qualifiers for the 2020 Olympic Marathon Trials came from non-Division I schools, with nine who competed at the Division III level. We are all unique, develop at our own pace, and have varying priorities. We also grow from the inside rather than the material benefits of the outside world. All we need is a great running community that will support our learning and growth and a coach who understands our potential and goals and will help us dream bigger than what we can aspire alone.
For people of my generation, I understand it’s easy to feel lost and outdated as technology, culture, and world dynamics are swiftly changing. And younger generations sometimes focus on our weaknesses rather than our strengths. We are all marathoners in life as we learn, grow, and endure through our journeys. If we get through life intact, we have won the prize of wisdom which is precious and can never be taken away. Take care of your mind and body, value your relationships, be open and active, live a life of purpose, keep challenging yourself, and be proud of your age. You are special. You can still do great things.
David is the founder of OrgForce Consulting and a leadership coach, trainer, and organizational change consultant. Before this, he had an international career implementing social impact programs in the world’s most fragile countries. David loves to write about the future, and how to adapt and be a positive force in the world. He also enjoys authentically sharing his various life experiences, learnings, and insights to help people pursue more fulfillment, impact, and joy in their lives and careers. Feel free to reach out to David for feedback or to discuss your life journey. You can discover more about David and OrgForce Consulting by visiting org-force.com.
