I grew up in a different world than Kathrine Switzer. In my lifetime women have always been allowed (yes, allowed!) to run the Boston Marathon. Not so for Switzer. She first ran the Boston Marathon in 1967, after registering under the name KV Switzer. When officials discovered that a girl was running in their race they tried to forcibly remove her from the course. In 1966 and 1967 Roberta Bingay-Gibb dared to run the marathon, but she slipped in just after the start and ran without official numbers. KV was different. She wore official numbers – #261. And all hell broke loose. Although the attempt to rip the numbers from her chest and push her off the course were unsuccessful, there is no official record of her finish (which was around 4:20, officially unofficial because she reportedly passed the unknown four-hour time limit for recording finishes, unofficially unofficial because of the girl thing). The photos, however, are among the greatest images in the history of sport. Running that marathon was not without consequence. Switzer was expelled from the AAU (Amateur Athletics Union – the controlling force in US athletics at the time) for
1. Running a distance longer than 1.5 miles, the “longest distance allowable for women”.
2. Fraudulently entering the race by signing the entry form with initials.
3. Running the Boston Marathon with men.
4. Running the Boston Marathon without a chaperone.
But more importantly, she changed women’s running forever. The media storm, including early reports that she did not finish – the early editions went to press before the race ended and the writers assumed she would drop out - fueled the controversy. The debates raged – not simply could they run (Kathrine and Roberta showed they could), but should they run? During the race Switzer had a lightbulb moment. She realized that the women clapping on the sidelines weren’t running because they believed the myth that women were too delicate for such grueling endeavours. Maybe they even believed that they would get big legs and grow a moustache if they ran. In a very savvy move, she used the media frenzy as an opportunity to share the knowledge with women that they need not stay on the sidelines cheering. They too could run. A running revolution had begun. In 1972, five years after her historic run, The Boston Marathon allowed women to run - officially. “And so, uh, you ladies are welcome at Boston. But you have to meet the men’s qualifying time”, said Jock Semple, race director. In 1972 just a handful of women qualified to run (eight, to be precise; Nina Kuscsik won in 3:10 and change). This year about 40% of the 25,000 runners will be women.
Switzer’s book, Marathon Woman, traces the modern history of women and the marathon through the eyes of a woman who spearheaded the movement to convince the world that women could handle the most arduous event of them all, the marathon. I would be remiss if I failed to mention that her story extends far beyond women’s running. The 1970s and 1980s were the start of the recreational running boom and she was in the heart of it all. From the start of the five-borough New York Marathon to the introduction of qualifying standards in Boston, to simple firsts, like the first official water stations, she was there. On this historical backdrop she overlays her own quest to become a “real” runner and validate herself, her running, and the running of women everywhere. Switzer and her contemporaries worked tirelessly to change the world of running for us, to open doors that I have walked through time and time again.
So it is because of women like her, in my lifetime women have always been allowed to run the Boston Marathon. Not so for the Olympic Games. I was young, but I vaguely remember the first time women were allowed to run the Olympic Marathon. It was 1984 and the world watched, many still convinced that someone would surely collapse and die at the finish line, or perhaps they’d see a uterus fall out, as women had been warned would happen. Instead we watched history unfold. As I read Marathon Woman, with the book building to the very moment that the best marathon running women in the world chased the Olympic dream, it was almost as though I had been transported back in time. You know how it ends, but the excitement doesn’t fade.
My advice? Run, don’t walk, to the bookstore to get this book. I promise, thereafter every time you step on a starting line with a number pinned to your chest you will appreciate that the privilege of doing so did not exist a generation ago.
Title Reference: Switzer, K. (2007). Marathon Woman. Carroll & Graf Publishers, New York. pp.12.
Nice piece. It is good you had [husband] as your chaperon in Boston:). I’ll certainly read ‘Marathon Woman.’ On the flight back I sat next to a woman who run Boston over 20 years ago. She told me women required 3.20 to qualify. I think men needed a sub 3.00 but I couldn’t help thinking that this barrier was meant to keep out more women than men. And then the Olympic gods (always behind the times) only allowed women to run the steeple chase three years ago. I don’t recall what the excuse was. Maybe the fear that a fall at the water jump could spoil a lady’s complexion?
At first the men and women had the same standards at 3:30 for all, definitely a move to minimize the female contingent. I think the year your plane companion ran had the tightest standards ever – for men and women.
A wet and dirty sport like the steeple chase, that is certainly not befitting a lady
. In her book Switzer talks about how the IOC would probably only allow one new women’s event each Olympic year and so the different events were kind of in competition with each other to be included. She figured if they slowly added new distances (the 1500, then 5000, then 10000) it would be 20 years before the marathon made it. I wonder if steeple was at the end of that long list?