Ed Eyestone was named – by no less a leading authority than myself – Best U.S. Roadie of 1990 by Track & Field News. January 1991. – JDW
In Bountiful, Utah, the phone rang. Ed Eyestone stopped putting away the Christmas lights long enough to take the call.
After convincing Erica, age 2½, she’d be better off practicing the kazoo with her mother in the kitchen, he took the news calmly.
“Road Racer Of The Year, huh? That’s nice.” He didn’t seem to know what else to say.
“Thank you. Ummm, I felt like it was a decent year for me. I’m happy with my progress.”
He should be. He had no real reason to be surprised after a stellar season that saw a consistent series of quality performances, topped by a breakthrough 2:10:59 for 5th in the Chicago Marathon. You could hear the self-satisfaction in his voice: “I lowered my PR by a minute and a half.”
He did indeed. Of course, as annual listings testify, the U.S.’s best still has a long way to run before being numbered among the world’s true elite. In ’90, 21 marathoners from 16 different nations ran faster than Eyestone, and it has been eight years since an American was ranked in the Top 10, the worst streak ever.
“I really don’t think things are as dire as people would have us believe,” Eyestone cautions. “It’s just a matter of time before we’ll see the factors that put an American in the Top 10. I still maintain it’s gonna happen.”
According to Eyestone, those factors will involve a finely conditioned athlete in the right race with the right weather. “I can’t speak for everybody,” he says, speaking for himself, “but I feel what I’m doing – which is the best I can – will be good enough.”
It’s just a matter of being in the right place at the right time.
“Frankly, I get a little miffed with all the different theories as to why U.S. runners aren’t as highly ranked as they may have been in the past,” Eyestone offers. “The top Americans have about the same PRs as, say, Frank Shorter. We haven’t declined, there’s just a lot more competition.”
Eyestone brushes aside criticism that the world’s best marathoners spend more time avoiding one another than they do competing. “Frankly, avoiding other runners never enters my mind,” the Boy Scout leader claims. “In my opinion, you’re limited to two good performances a year, which means the top people simply can’t meet as often as we’d like.
“Road racing, sure, it’s the way I’ve fed the family for the last five years, but I don’t look at which runners are going to show up. I look at how a race fits into my overall schedule.”
Eyestone’s 1990 forays onto the U.S. road circuit were essentially benchmark efforts designed to test his progress.
They’re lab experiments, really, aimed at making him a global force over 26M, 385y.
You can see the difference in his training. For the last year and a half, Eyestone has been working out thrice weekly with neighbor Paul Pilkington, no slouch himself with a 2:11:13 PR.
“For the first time since I left college,” says the 29-year-old BYU alum, “training is fun again. Running with a peer, with someone at my own level, it’s really helped.”
So has the additional mileage. As a 10k specialist, Eyestone typically covered 80-90 miles weekly. As a marathoner, he might do as much as 120.
Competing in the ’88 Olympic marathon, just his third go at the distance, “I ran it as a 10k runner. I was still doing basically the same mileage, except for a long run every two weeks. Now it’s a 25-miler once a week.”
For a berth on the Barcelona Olympic team in ’92, Eyestone is definitely planning for the long run. “I feel like now I’m really more of a marathoner,” he confirms. The transition is more than mental. “I’d say I’ve lost 10-15 seconds over 10k. The pace seems a lot faster than it used to. Needless to say,” he says, “the marathon distance has become more comfortable.”
While Eyestone has not made the transition from 25 laps on the track to 26+ miles on the road look easy, he has made it look doable. He has proven again, just as Mr. Shorter did a generation ago, an American track racer can compete successfully in the marathon.
Not yet a medal. Not yet the times of Alberto Salazar. Not yet even a Top 10 ranking. But one senses, after 1990, Eyestone may be well on his way. He may even be next.
“I feel with the ability I’ve been given,” he says, his voice filling with determination, “the marathon is more suitable to achieving my very best.”
Which is the best he can do.
Epilogue. Ed went on to a most distinguished coaching career.
Discipline can be taught, dedication can be mirrored, courage can be shared.
