fbpx
Menu Close

67: The 100-miler: Part 14 (1975-1976) Cavin Woodward and Tom Osler

By Davy Crockett 

In the early 1970s, several highly competitive 100-mile races had been held in England, but they were still primarily organized for attempts to break British or world records. In 1975 another classic race was held, perhaps one of the greatest and most competitive 100-mile race ever held. It left one reporter speechless, witnessing something that he would never forget, watching some of the fastest 100-mile runners ever, and experiencing the sportsmanship of ultrarunning for the first time. This story must be retold.

In America, 100-mile races were being held, open to anyone who wanted to give it a try, even the naïve. In 1975, the annual Camellia 100 held in the Sacramento, California area was held for the fifth year.

But the oldest annual American 100-miler that tends to be forgotten, was the Columbia 100 Mile Walk held in Columbia, Missouri. In 1975 It was held for the ninth year. There had been 23 sub-24-hour 100-miler finishes in its history. But this was nothing compared to Great Britain. There, 100-mile walking races had been held annually since 1946, for 30 years, with more than 450 finishes in less than 24 hours.

Elsewhere, the Durban 100 held every-other year in South Africa, had been competed six times, with at least 33 finishers (only partial results have been preserved). In Italy, 24-hour races had been held every year since 1970 with 100-mile finishers. In 1975, a 24-hour race with many 100-mile finishers was competed inside the Soviet controlled iron curtain, in Czechoslovakia.

Please help support this podcast. I’ve joined a partnership with Ultrarunning Magazine. I can offer a 25% discount on Ultrarunning Magazine subscriptions and renewals. Visit https://ultrarunning.com/ultrarunning-history/  Subscribe or renew today.

The Greatest 100-miler – Acolade 100

On October 25, 1975, at the Tipton Sports Union Stadium in Tipton, England, the British Road Runners Club put on the Acolade 100-mile race that has been called the “Greatest 100 Miles” by world ultrarunning history authority, Andy Milroy. Why was it so significant?

The 100-miler was an invitation-only race and 18 competitors were carefully selected out of a large group who were interested. All were very experienced ultrarunners, but only a few had actually finished a 100-miler. The most experienced 100-miler runner was Ron Bentley, the current 24-hour world-record holder of 161 miles (see episode 65). But Bentley was hampered by a recent groin injury. The race was held just three weeks after the major ultramarathon of the time, London to Brighton (52 miles). This was a concern because some of the runners also ran there, but they held to the scheduled date.

Cavin Woodward

Cavin Woodward (1947-2010) was an accountant from Whitnash, England. He started running at the age of 16 in 1963 when he joined the Leamington Cycling and Athletics Club (LC&A), starting a lifetime membership.

Cavin Woodward in 1967

He took up marathon running in 1971 because he “felt sorry” for Leamington’s veteran marathoner, Tom Buckingham (1918-1976), age 53, who seemed like he always was the only club member competing in marathon events. Buckingham had started running in 1946. Woodward said, “Tom never seemed to have any support so I decided to run with him. Other distance runners then joined the club.”  Soon several runners in the club started to compete in London to Brighton (52 miles).

At first Woodward competed in races more for enjoyment than for winning. He said, “But my wife Carol changed that. She was fed up with coming to watch me do not good, so she mapped out a training schedule for me and made sure that I kept to it. It proved a great incentive because Carol comes to watch all my races and gives me encouragement.” She would also bring along their twin boys. Woodward ran his first London to Brighton (52 miles) in 1971 and finished 17th. He said, “I was more interested in finishing than my final position.”  His best marathon time was achieved that year, 2:19:50.

In 1972, Woodward became a star distance-runner. “Cavin Woodward thrust himself into the ranks of the world’s top long distance runners on Sunday when he finished 3rd in the London to Brighton classic. It was a glorious effort by the C&AC star, who must now be considered a serious candidate for Britain’s marathon squad in the Montreal Olympics.”

By 1974 he was racing nearly every week from 5K upwards. He found that running competitive events was far more rewarding than slogging out the miles in training stints, but still trained about 70 miles per week. It was said of Woodward, “He is the man who runs marathons as often as most folk exercise their dog. Most distance runners are content to run a couple or perhaps three marathons a year. Woodward reckons to run one every other week”

By 1975, Woodward was winning nearly every long race he finished. In April, he set the world record for 30 miles at Epson of 2:43:52. In May he won the Isle of Wight marathon in course record time. During the summer he struggled with his performance because of the heat, but In August, he won the classic Two Bridges (36 miles) in Scotland.

In September Woodward ran again at London to Brighton. From the start, he went out fast, grabbed the lead running 10 miles in just 55 minutes. He explained, “I felt that if I wanted to win the event, I would have to be three minutes ahead of the opposition after 30 miles. In fact, I was four minutes up on them. But even at that stage I couldn’t relax. There were 24 South Africans in the field of 100 and I didn’t know what they were capable of doing. I always start fast, but for all I knew they could have been strong finishers.” He won, finishing only a minute off the course record. He had finished on the podium for this international race four years in a row. There was no doubt that he was the most dominant ultrarunner in the world in 1975. Since 1972 he had finished on the podium of 16 or 17 races. By 1975 he had finished 26 marathons and 19 ultras.

Runner Martin Thompson wrote of Woodward, “He is 28 years of age, about 5 ft. 8 in height and weighs 130 pounds, enjoys his running, training twice a day, 3 miles in the morning and 10 miles in the afternoon with the pace varying between 6 and 7 minutes a mile.  He is a prolific racer with rarely a weekend away from competing: cross-country, road, track and a few cycling races thrown in when light on for running races.”

Quest for the 100-mile Record

Cavin Woodward and Don Ritchie

The 100-mile world record was 11:56:56, held by Derek Key of South Africa (see episode 65). Woodward knew that, and while planning for the race, examined Kay’s splits from his record-setting run. He decided that he would stick with his own strategy of going out fast as long as he could. He said, “No matter what pace you start at, you will slow eventually, so start at a fast pace which will give you momentum. The reason why I go out in front is because I want to run my own race.  If you are in a bunch, and the front runners stop, you have to chop your stride. In front I can speed up when I feel like it, slow down when I come to a hill, judge the traffic, and do what I want to do.”

But Woodward had never run beyond 52 miles and had his doubts whether he could even “hang on” and reach 100 miles. He set his sights on a pace to break the world record but also planned a backup pace chart. He carbo-loaded before the race eating kippers, grapefruit, potatoes and sandwiches.

The Start

For the 6 a.m. start, on October 25, 1975, at the Tipton Sports Union Stadium in Tipton, England,  it was reported, “A dull and misty dawn broke to reveal a scene reminiscent of some medieval tournament, with brightly colored tents that would shelter the many handlers ready to bring aid to the present day warriors who would be fighting out on the yielding but soft cinder track.  The day was never warmer than 54 degrees. When the race started, Woodward took off like a marathon runner, a speed that appeared to surprise the timekeepers and recorders as they sat in their drafty stand.” He reached the marathon mark in 2:31:22, with a lead of more than 16 minutes.

Runner Martin Thomas recalled, “The organization was superb with times called and recorded for every lap (400) for all competitors.  As the day progressed the spectators grew in number and in the final stages the encouragement from the crowd was terrific.  Dr. John Brotherhood of the Medical Research Council had a tent set up on the infield for testing urine samples and generally kept a check on all the runners.”

Woodward continue to cruise way ahead of the field and reached 50 miles in a world record time of 4:58:53, the first ever to break the five-hour barrier. He overheard someone remark, “He will now drop out somewhere in the race, so who will break the 100 mile record?” That bugged him. He continued on strong but did relax a bit. With a 34-minute lead over the next runner, he knew that he could break the 100-mile world record running the second 50 miles in a pace two hours slower that the first half. At mile 53, he made his first bathroom break.

Woodward continued on at a blistering pace and broke the 100 km world record with a time of 6:25:28, beating the previous mark by 25 minutes. But then he started to slow and by 80 miles his buffer on his fastest planned pace was narrowing. Tom O’Reilly was gaining on him. Ron Bentley shouted encouraging words to him. Woodward’s wife later recalled, “Cavin was leading but struggling in the last ten miles of the race. Even though Ron was running the race himself, he was continually shouting encouragement to Cavin.” Woodward was also cheered by his father, his wife Carol, and his three young sons. He stopped to put on a tracksuit to keep warm.

A reporter wrote about what he witnessed, “Never will I forget the sight of Woodward responding to the urging, not only of his own supporters, but to the wholehearted backing of the spectators. Head lolling to one side for mile after mile. He carried the crowd with him. For me this was a new and wonderful kind of sportsmanship. Runners spurring each other on in spite of knowing that the man they were trying to help might finish in front of them. The spirit filled the reception area as runner after runner staggered toward the finish”

The Finish

Despite his struggles, Woodward broke the 150 km world record with a time of 10:44:55 and then with the end in sight, picked up the pace. His last mile was clocked at 7:07. He crushed the 100-mile world record with a time of 11:38:54, beating Kay’s existing record by 18 minutes. A large crowd gathered to cheer the winner in the final stages, but now he had finished, the other competitors had to push on steadily into the darkness for another four hours or more”  Tom O’Reilly finished second with a time of 12:02:32 which was the third fastest in the world up to that point.

After finishing, Woodward was overcome with emotion and had “a bit of a sob.” He was hustled from the track to an ambulance. He explained, “I was OK, they just wanted to get me away from the well-wishers and let me rest.”

What made this 100-mile race so great, was that eleven runners finished in less than 15 hours. Woodward, looking back on the accomplishment said, “I proved that it could be done. I hope I have altered the outlook of some runners. I hope I proved that running even-paced is not the only way of winning races and breaking records. I would like to think that if a runner wants to try and run ultras fast right from the start against the wishes of his coach or trainer, he could convincingly argue that that was the way Cavin Woodward did it.”

Haywood with wife and father

Woodward finished without any significant injury, but said from home the next day, “I’m very stiff and aching all over. But considering I had never run further than 53 miles before, I feel great.” He  recovered fast and ran with his club in races the following weekend.

Woodward (42) running with Ron Bentley (153) and Don Ritchie (96)

Woodward was immediately given an invitation to run the Comrades Marathon the following year. He did and finished in 2nd place.  For 1975 he received 4th place in a vote for Britain’s “Athlete of the Year.” Woodward continued to run ultras at a world-class level into his 50s until 1998. He ran more than 200 marathons or longer during his life and accumulated a collection of 600 trophies and medals. He died suddenly of a heart attack in 2010 at the age of 63.

A fellow runner wrote this about Woodward, “He had the unique gift of going off at an apparently suicidal pace in even the longest races and holding on to win them. His opponents were usually dumbfounded – especially quality foreigners brought across to race the big ultras – and they didn’t know what to do: follow and blow-up or be patient and watch victory disappear into the distance.”

1975 24 Hours at Dobrisi, Czechoslovakia

Ivo Domansky

In 1968, the Soviet Union invaded Czechoslovakia. Prior to that, marathon runners had been participating in running events in western Europe. Ivo Domansky, a marathoner, who became a ultarunner, shared what life was like for an ultrarunner during the early 1970’s. “Around the end of 1971, normalization in the then Czechoslovak Socialist Republic came to close, and as for trips to capitalist foreign countries, it became increasingly difficult to travel there. I was less than 34 years old and I knew it would never be better in terms of running performance, and I started to care a little more about things other than walking and running.”

Domansky on left

In 1973, Domansky managed to get the approval of the Tourism Association to go and compete in one of the several 100 km races that were beginning to be held in Europe. He went to run in the Copenhagen 100 km in Denmark, a road race in its second year.

Also with him was Bretislav Molata, who would be one of the greatest Czech ultrarunners of the time. For both of them, this was their first 100 km. In Copenhagen, they stayed in a large sports hall with sleeping bags. Their Sports organization under Communist rule had given them some money (only about $80 in 2020 value) for meals and pocket money but it was not much for their two-week trip, and they struggled.

Kronborg Castle

At the start, about 600 runners took off in Copenhagen, going along the coast and running through Kronborg Castle, the setting for Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Domansky recalled, “To this day, I see in my mind a wreath of lights, on the opposite Swedish bank on the Strait of Oresund. We ran most of the 100 km at night.” Molata finished in 2nd place with 8:45 and Domansky finished in 6th with 9:28, a great showing against the Danes. About half of the field finished in more than 15 hours.

The Biel 100 km start in later years

A couple year later they were also able to run in a 100 km at Biel, Switzerland with 2,500 runners and walkers. Many of these European 100 kms were both hikes and runs that would attract hundreds and even more than 1,000 walkers. These long-distance walkers were called “tourists.” This race had been held since 1959. Domansky finished 8th in 8:03. “It had a completely different atmosphere than Copenhagen. On Friday at 10 p.m., about 2,500 runners and tourists gathered at the start. The 100 km  course in Biel was a large circuit without elevation gain, especially the difficult night section along the banks of the Aara River, which the local marathoners nicknamed the Ho Chi Minh Trail.”

Jizera Mountains

Ultramarathons started to be held in Czechoslovakia in 1974, including a 50 km on a cross-country ski course in the Jizera Mountains and a 100 km road race held in Liberec.

But the big event was held on September 19, 1975. It was a 24-hour race held at Dobrisi, Czechoslovakia. The road course consisted of a 100 km loop along with a one km out and back. There were 56 runners, including four women. The best ultrarunners in Czechoslovakia and others from a few other eastern European countries competed.

The star of the event was Bretislav Molata, age 33, from Ostrava. Molata reached 100 miles in 16:41:00 and went on to win with 133.5 miles. Twenty runners reached 100 miles in this first modern-era 24-hour race held in Eastern Europe, in Soviet controlled territory. Molata was a very gifted ultrarunner but left the sport two years later. Domansky said, “it is an eternal pity that he ended the sport prematurely.”

Tom Osler

Thomas J. Osler. of Camden, New Jersey was born in 1940. He had an important place in 100-mile history because of his training theories and his 1976 24-hour run in New Jersey, bringing focus on ultrarunning. Of his youth, he said, “I was a sickly little kid at 12 or 13 and didn’t have many friends. This annoyed me, so I decided to leap head-first into every sport there was. I was terrible. I came home night after night looking like an ad for the Blue Cross.”

Osler was an excellent student, but purposely lowered his grades for a while in order to fit in as a “regular guy.” Then the gang in his neighborhood picked distance running as “that day’s form of athletic torture.” Osler jumped in head-first and started to run. When he was fourteen years old, he had dreams that he would be the first person to break the four-minute mile. He said, “When you are young, you have dreams that seem very attainable.” He did a test mile run and finished in 6:30.

In 1954, England’s Roger Bannister was the first to break the four-minute mile barrier and Osler’s dream was crushed. He started to train hard and at Camden High School was on the track team. His best mile was 4:54 which was disappointing to him, but he was one of the best high school milers in Camden. He finished his first marathon when he was 16 years old with a time of 3:27. In high school, he excelled in his classes, especially in the sciences. His father was a plumbing contractor and sacrificed to make sure Osler went to college.

College Years

Drexel

In 1957, Osler went to Drexel Institute of Technology in Philadelphia where he studied physics and won many academic awards. Osler loved running and found time during his busy college life to also be deeply involved with road running. In 1959 he helped found the Road Runners Club of America and was its first co-secretary. He raced multiple times a month in many shorter races put on by Browning Ross (1924-1998) in Philadelphia and throughout New Jersey.

Osler said, “At the time you only ran in a proper athletic setting. You ran in a park or on a track. You certainly never ran on the streets. If you did, you were stared at by everyone.” Yes, he ran on the roads. “Other runners would ask me, ‘how do you stand the ridicule?’ My answer was that I simply ignored it.” Frequently he was stopped and questioned by police while running, thinking he was running to try to get away after doing some crime. Once he was even pulled into a patrol car. Osler said, “He popped out of his car like a jack-in-the box and tackled me. Before I knew what was happening, I was in the car beside him.” For his first six years of serious running, he raced at every opportunity. In a field of about 50 runners he would finish about 15th to 20th.

But over training started to plague him. He said, “I had a sciatic nerve condition that left me unable to walk. I still remember going out to train and going so slowly due to hip pain that even the dogs looked at me puzzled. They couldn’t decide if I was running or not and were confused as to whether to chase me.” He soon figured out that rest and healing was just as important as training.

In 1963 after reading Running to the Top by Arthur Lydiard, he adopted the method of slow training and took his first “great leap forward.” He started to run steady miles, often reaching 70-75 miles a week, much of it on the road. As he coached himself, some wins started to come and he finished the 1964 Boston Marathon in 2:47.

After graduating from Drexel, Osler won a fellowship to graduate school at the Courant Institute of Mathematics at New York University where he received his PhD.

Becoming an Elite Runner

Osler became life-long friends with future ultrarunning legend, Ed Dodd, in the early 1960’s when Dodd was still in high school. They would do long training runs together. In 1965 at the age of 25, Osler was “beaten soundly” by Dodd, age 19, who became captain of St. Joseph University cross-country team. This increased Osler’s motivation and “the old competitive zeal was put into high gear.”

In July 1965, Osler went to Falls Church, Virginia to compete in a one-hour track run against a highly competitive national field. He hoped to finish in the top ten. He ran away from the field, lapping them, and won with 11.3 miles. He became highly ranked in the nation for 1965 and won the 25 km national championship. He raced nearly every weekend and won about 30 races in 1965 for distances from 3-15 miles, both on roads and cross-country.

Osler was instrumental in bringing course measurement up to the standards in the Middle Atlantic area outlined by Ted Corbitt. Prior to Tom’s initiative, courses were measured with someone’s car. In November 1965, Osler put on the first William Ruthruff marathon in Philadelphia in Fairmont Park. After a number of years this turned into what is became The Philadelphia Marathon.

In 1966 Osler became a math instructor at St. Joseph’s University in Philadelphia and continued his prolific racing and winning.  In 1967 he set his marathon personal best at Boston, finishing 16th with a time of 2:29:04 That year he also won the National 30 km Championship.

Ultrarunning

In 1967 Osler was inspired by Ted Corbitt to give ultramarathons a try. With running buddies, Neil Weygandt and Ed Dodd, he began doing 50-mile training runs from Collingwood to Atlantic City, New Jersey. On August 13, 1967 Osler won a club 40-mile fun-run in Egg Harbor, New Jersey. Confident that he could do well, he began preparing to run in the 50-mile national championship to be held in November 1967. He worked up his runs to 55 miles. He ran every afternoon after classes covering 75 to 80 miles a week and averaged 7.5 minutes per mile.

The start

The first modern-era American 50-mile championship was part of the YMCA Thanksgiving Day Road Race, held in Poughkeepsie, New York. There were 13 starters, including legendary and future 100-mile world record holder, John Tarrant, “the ghost runner,” who  came from England to run. (see episode 63)

On race day, Osler, age 27, took control of the 50-miler early and even led Tarrant. The last 40 miles were run in a steady downpour of freezing rain. Osler won with 5:52:33, beating Tarrant by about ten minutes and said, “I’m very happy with my time. I had planned to do about 6:10 or better to win. I felt perfect for the first 41 miles, like I had just started. Then a slow weariness set in. It got worse as I went along and in the last lap was quite bad. It was cold but my main worry was that it might freeze.”

The 50-miler took a toll on Osler. His legs were stiff and tired for several weeks after that and he did not like feeling so shattered. “I felt sick and weak. I became ‘gun shy’ and did not enter another 50-miler until 1974.”

Osler, the Author

In 1967 Osler privately published 2,000 copies of a 29-page training guide booklet entitled, The Conditioning of Distance Runners. This would be the first of several books he authored on running training theory and practices. It was trailblazing and is still referred to decades later. He endorsed the long, easy training runs to establish a long-lasting base and then adding speed sharpening training. Running in frequent races was in important part of his training. He gave all the proceeds for his booklet to Browning Ross to keep support Browning Ross’ monthly Long Distance Log that published results for road races across the country.

He later was a strong advocate of the value of walking in training and running on soft surfaces like trails rather than roads. In 1979, together with Ed Dodd, he co-authored Ultra-Marathoning: The Next Challenge, a classic must-read book. In addition, with a PhD received in mathematics in 1970, he has published more than 150 papers on mathematics and physics.

Glassboro 24-hour Run

In 1976, at age 36, Osler wanted to prove out his running/walking theory by running 100 miles on the track at Glassboro State College where he was teaching. Each Christmas, the freshman class sponsored a fund-raising drive for needy families in the area.

He decided to do a 24-hour run on the outdoor quarter-mile track. He said, “This would not only assist the fund-raising project, but it would also provide a stem test of the method I felt I had uncovered. I decided on a ratio of seven laps running to one lap of walking. Thus, I would walk one quarter mile at the conclusion of each two mile segment. I promised myself that it would be a ‘go as you please’ affair. I wanted to stay fresh and feel good for the entire day.”

Osler had never run further that sixty miles in races or training so he was interested to find out if he could reach 100 miles with the walking/running mixture. He explained, “I’m not trying to break any speed records. In this kind of race, you can slow down, stop to eat or drink or even take a nap. But you don’t get too far if you nap.”

Osler did not sleep at all the night before. He couldn’t wait to get on the track. He started at 5 a.m. on the cold, clear December morning. It was about 20 degrees. He wore a hat, gloves and “ski pajamas” to cover his legs. Several friends started with him and ran portions of the distance through the day, including the college president.

He said, “Gradually, the light of dawn spread over the cinder track. I had thought before the run of the great beauty of watching the sun rise and set, and the night close in darkly while the run went ever on. I did my best to relax and stay fresh.” He reversed direction on the track about every half hour. During the day the track thawed and became wet and mushy.

Osler reached 50 miles in 8:08:13 feeling good. The sun set at the 70-mile mark.  The freezing ruts in the track became a problem. Many students arrived to run with him.  He recalled, “At 80 miles, I began to grow weary. For the first time, I was no longer comfortable. I really wanted to stop and take a rest but I thought it unwise.” He recovered at 95 miles and finished strong, reaching 100 miles in 18:19:27. The college president and reporters were there to offer congratulations.

Osler, far left, on last lap with friends

“He stopped for a rest and a warm spaghetti dinner and a ten-minute nap. After the break, he couldn’t get himself to run at all and proceeded to walk for the remaining time, covering 114 miles before he was done.” He ended up running 90 miles and walking 24 miles. He was delighted to discover that his post-race recovery produced no leg stiffness. He said, “I really don’t feel too bad.” Ted Corbitt told him that it was because of his frequent walks. Osler said, “I now knew how the great pedestrians of the past century had achieved seemingly impossible mileage.”

Later Life

Two years later, Osler ran 100 miles again at the 1978 Fort Mead 100 and won with 16:11:15. He went on to run and race competitively for the next couple of decades. In 1980, Osler was inducted into the Road Runners Club of America Hall of fame. In 2003 suffered a stroke but recovered. Two years later, he had another serious artery blockage that made him decide to retire from serious racing, but he did start walking and running again.

By 2011, Osler had run an estimated 90,000 miles and run in more than 2,000 races. He continued to run in a race nearly every week until he fell and broke his hip which was replaced in 2017, requiring him to stop running. In 2020, Osler was 80 years old and still teaching math at Glassboro (now called Rowan University), with a teaching career of more than 54 years. When asked why he ran, he replied, “Running offers both pleasure and pain. There is nothing like the purification of the soul through running. Running helps you connect with what is important in your soul.”

Ed Dodd wrote of Osler, “He had the greatest influence on my own running career of anyone I have known. Tom has been extremely giving of his time and advice and has been a mentor to many, many runners in our area through the years. Some of the most enjoyable times of my life were spent on Sundays taking long runs with Tom. He was likewise a mentor for many of his mathematics students at Rowan University. He gave many of his students the opportunity to co-write some of his papers was the reason a number of them pursued an advanced degree and a similar teaching career.”

24-hour World Record Attempt – Sort of

After Ron Bentley’s 1973 24-hour record of 161 miles was published in the Guinness Book of World Records, naïve, but determined runners sought to break it. In Martinsville, Indiana, an ex-Marine and Vietnam war veteran, Robert William Dannettelle (1951-1996), age 23, set off on July 1, 1975, planning to run 200 miles in 24 hours. With permission from the state police, he started his run on Interstate 74 at 8 a.m.

“After two hours a white, unmarked car rolled past him near Brownsburg. A voice over the public address system on the car warned him to get off the highway. Dannettelle said he kept running but the car came by a second time and the voice said if he was seen again he would go to jail.” Dannettelle took the warning seriously, stopped his run and called for a ride. He later called the police but they checked their records and had no units in the area at that time. They said next time they would give him written authorization to carry. “We might as well help him since he’s a Hoosier. We are not the bag guys.”

One week later he tried again, this time with a state police escort from Indianapolis to Peoria. But he only made it 45 miles because of a muscle pull that occurred around mile 20. “The leg finally stiffened up when he stopped to rest at a service station near here. He was then taken to the hospital for treatment.” If he would have continued, Illinois State Police were ready to stop him from running on Interstate 74 in that state. He claimed that he had been averaging 9-minute per mile pace, well behind a world record pace.

Breaking a true world record was harder than it sounded. He vowed, “I’m going out again as soon as my leg heals and I’m going to break the record. There’s no doubt in my mind I would have broken the record.” a few weeks later, he may have quietly tried again.

Dannettelle did somehow get his name in the Guinness Book of World Records fraudulently and in 1976 was arrested and convicted for stealing money “by deception” from a typewriter company, a music store, and Pennys. He had a history of passing bad checks. He became a manager of a video tape rental store and died due to alcoholism and drug abuse in 1996 at the age of 45.

1976 Camellia 100

America’s oldest 100-miler, the Camellia 100 had been held since 1971 in the Sacramento, California area, but sadly 1976 was its last year. The 1976 course was a loop of 4540 feet on a cement sidewalk. It was reported, “The very hard surface, and the temperatures which approached 80-degrees (with fairly high humidity) made this year’s race more difficult than usual.”

Ultrarunning legend, Don Choi, a postman from San Francisco, was led by John Arberry (1943-), also from San Francisco, by about 15 minutes in the early going. Choi went into the lead at 40 miles, extending it to an hour by 60 miles. From there, Choi kept the lead for good and finished in 21:36:31. Arberry was the only other finisher in 23:26:06. It was Arberry’s second 100-mile finish at this race. Previously in 1973, he finished in 22:21:39. In 1979 and 1980, Arberry tried his hand at running Western States 100 but did not finish either year.

The Camellia 100 was no longer held because the Camellia Festival Association withdrew their sponsorship due to insurance costs. The Pacific AAU distance running committee hoped to find a new sponsor and keep the race going but this early 100-miler ceased to be held

The parts of this 100-mile series:

Sources

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.