“I stopped running because the race ended. I wasn’t tired. I was still feeling good at the finish.”
He came to mind when I found pages 5 & 6 of an ancient issue of New England Runner’s Magazine with a list of the 1973 Boston Marathon finishers. #23. Jack Fultz, Washington Sports Club…….. 2:30:55. The question has been asked, what makes an Original Gangster Of Running? I am thinking, if you ran the BAA in ’73, that would get you in the front door. Jackie Hansen, the first woman OGOR, is pictured on page 6. Looking at her winner’s wreath. Tom Fleming finished second and Steve Hoag thirteenth. Bill Rodgers dropped out in ’73. And I didn’t. If you raced against Ron Daws, you might just be an OGOR.
When did you start running and why?
I was always active as a young kid, running around the neighborhood playing catch-n-release games with the other kids in the neighborhood. Reflecting back, I had an intrinsic joy in the act of running – but it was all informal and just for play.
As time went on, I realized I was a bit faster than most of the other kids and tended to tire less easily. I always wanted a bike so before I finally got one, I’d pretend I was biking to the store or whatever errand I was running for my folks and try to emulate the speed I thought I’d experience on a bike. Being one of seven kids living in a 3 – 4 room apartment, both parents working full time and moonlighting as well to make ends meet – my parents could not afford to get me one. But I suspect I did get my work ethic from that modeling.
In forth grade, at about ten years of age, the newspaper route I inherited from portions of my older brothers’ routes (my father and brothers operated the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette franchise in our small hometown of Franklin in northwestern PA) required me to have a bicycle to deliver the papers. Come Christmas, voila – a shinny red Schwinn Tornado single speed beauty. Sure wish I still had that bike.
For the next 8 years, six days a week, twelve months a year, through my senior year in high school, I got in a solid morning aerobic workout delivering those Post Gazettes up and down the steep hills of Franklin, PA. But I wasn’t necessarily thinking of it as exercise, let alone a workout. All I thought was that I was delivering newspapers – though I do remember enjoying working hard to climb some of the hill. One was so steep and still made of brick – yellow brick no less, that I had to zig-zag from curb to curb to get to the top. In the fall when the leaves covered that stretch, especially when they were wet, it was treacherous and nearly impossible to make it to the top – but I remember taking it as a challenge.
6th grade was my first foray into organized sports playing basketball. I missed a batting practice during Little League tryouts so got cut from summer baseball – never to return to that sport, other than playground stuff. 8th grade got me into intramural football, a sport in which two of my older brothers excelled. I willingly ran into the bigger guys trying to tackle them but not very effectively, until I learned to tackle them at their shoestrings. We did not have cross country at my Jr./Sr. high school and football was the only fall sport – so nearly all the boy athletes played football.
I played every year and the opening kickoff of our first game my senior year nearly ended my athletic career due to a serious leg injury. After a month of failed treatments, my family doc put me into the hospital and bombarded me with injections and oral meds – likely steroids – to dissolve the massive calcium deposit that was developing from the hematoma, caused by the impact on that opening game kickoff. That’s why we called them “suicide squads”.
9th grade was my first experience at organized track – the Freshman Relay, a medley of alternating 100 and 300 meters (actually 110 yards and 330 yards). Of course I was one of the “distance” guys, vying for that anchor position, which I usually ran. All the biking paid early dividends.
12th grade was when the coaches (the track and field coaches were also the football coaches – and all were teachers as well) realized I should be running further than the 440 in track season. My moderate speed was only okay for winning some points in the open 440 and a leg on the mile relay (4 x 440). During out late-summer football camp where we lived in the high school gymnasium, sleeping on the floor on air mattresses and sleeping bags, everyone on the team started every morning with a two mile run. Due to my years of newspaper delivery on my bike and the endless running I did playing neighborhood games and shorter races as an underclassman on the track team, I beat everyone in that daily two mile run by a quarter of a mile or more. The only reason they didn’t have me run the two mile was that that would eliminate me from running other events to score more points – that was the rule so as to protect kids from hurting themselves. Interesting.
Toughest opponent and why?
Again, looking back at my Franklin (PA) High School days, our football coach once shouted the question to our entire team as we huddled in the locker room shortly before running out onto the field to take on a rival team, “Who’s the team to beat?” I was ready to shout the name of our opposing team but fortunately didn’t get my words out as the upper class-men, knowing the correct answer, replied “FRANKLIN, FRANKLIN – We’re the team to beat!”
Our coach meant that we were the toughest of all the teams, or at least we should think that way. But from another perspective, each of us is also ultimately our own toughest opponent. Our doubts and fears rob us of the steely confidence, the self-belief that is essential to achieve long term success in any endeavor. With the right mind set, you won’t beat yourself – and therefore, never actually lose, even if you’re not the first runner across the finish line. Of course that’s an ideal and doesn’t hold up all the time. I’ve beaten myself many time by failing to race to what I believed was my potential.
Timothy Gallwey refers to this as “the inner game”, in his 1976 classic, “The Inner Game Of Tennis”. Winning one’s inner game is independent of the outcome of the ‘outer game”: the race results or the game’s final score.
This is what the title of my yet-to-be-written book, “Winning Is An Attitude” intimates.
But to answer your question in the spirit you intend: what runner was your toughest opponent? There honestly wasn’t any single runner – I feared many of them over time. But I remember thinking of Greg Meyer and Al Salazar like I thought of the boxer, Marvin Hagler – just so dogged tough you had to nearly kill them to beat them. But, for better or worse, I was well into the back nine of my racing career when both of them were just teeing off the front.
The temperature was 100 degrees one hour before the noon start time in Hopkinton. Spectators used garden hoses to spray water on the runners in an effort to cool them down. Over 40 percent of the 1,900-runner field dropped out.
Most memorable run and why?
To this day, for the past 44 years, I’ve pretty much been defined by my win at Boston in ’76. And while I ran other races that rival that one in terms of my positive remembrance of them, the “Run for the Hoses” will forever reign as # 1 for me. As to “why” – probably because I never won an Olympic Gold Medal. Frank Shorter once said, in response to the question of which is more valuable or has more significance: winning the Boston Marathon or the Olympic Marathon – (and I paraphrase here), “Well, the Olympic Gold probably tarnishes more slowly.” Hard to argue with that.
Biggest disappointment and why?
Similar to the number of “toughest opponents” there were many, and it’s hard to enumerate them. So here are a few. Not having my A Game when I came back to Boston in ’77 to defend my title. Not that I would have beaten Jerome Drayton, though I believe I ‘could’ have, had I been in peak form. I would at least have given him a good challenge and been a factor in that race. Mark Nenow – once the American recorder holder for the road 10K once defined being a “factor” in a race as “either winning or being referred to in the post-race press conference by the winner”. I always liked that. A big reason I wasn’t in top form was because I decided late I owed it to myself to return to Boston and defend my title. I was training in Hawaii the preceding winter, after having run the Honolulu Marathon in December.
In February I flew to Japan for a 30K race and an unexpected invitation afforded me the opportunity to stay in Japan a few weeks longer than originally planned. I was still considering running the Rotorua, New Zealand Marathon in April. That sounded so exotic to me and it was the home race of Jack Foster, who had been favored to win Boston in ’76, given his Masters World Record performance in the ’74 Commonwealth Games Marathon and victory with a course record in the ’75 Honolulu Marathon.
Late as it was in the training season, I realized I owed it to myself to return to Boston, for I may never have another opportunity to be the defending champion in such a major marathon, though I certainly envisioned winning more big races. Then at Boston, I ran a similar time to my ’76 race but only finished 9th. Disappointed, I answered with what to me was intended to be a touch of comic relief, the question of Jerry Nason, the Boston Marathon chronicler from the Boston Globe who coined the name of Heartbreak Hill some forty years earlier – “what happened Jack – you ran nearly the same time as last year, again on a warm though not super hot day, and yet this year you only got 9th?”. My retort, “The reason I didn’t win this year is that eight guys ran faster than me. If they hadn’t been here, I would have won again”. Think about that – it’s a bit like Paul Newman’s line in the movie, “Buffalo Bill”, “Remember, the last thing a man wants to do, is the last thing he does”.
More irony, in Hopkinton at the start of that ’77 Boston was Paul Newman, filming a made-for-TV-movie starring his wife, Joanne Woodward. Woodward portrayed a high school teacher who was running the Boston Marathon, her first and likely only marathon. The race has been over for hours, it was pitch dark and the roads had been returned to the cars when she crawls across the finish line on all fours, completely alone, exhausted and dejected. “See How She Runs” never won an Oscar but I certainly felt an attachment to it.
I too ran the entire race unidentified. Having arrived late into Hopkinton for the start of the race – another long story – I ran across town to the high school to retrieve my bib number. Now, about twenty minutes till the noon time start of the race, they informed me that my bib number and any others in the top 100 had been taken to the starting line. Reversing course and jogging through the throngs of runners who were still milling about, my friend who’d driven me there and was partly the reason for arriving late kept yelling for everyone to clear the path…how embarrassing that was. With ten minutes or less to the start, there was the usual controlled chaos and none of the race officials knew where the bib numbers had been placed. Finally we’re called to the start and Jock Semple tells me not to worry, they’ll find it and give it to me at the first checkpoint. That never happened, so just as I’d finished the 1976 race without a bib number (the numbers shriveled up and disappeared in the rainbow of garden hose showers through which we ran).
Feeling obliged to stay close to the lead pack, I was over-extending myself early in the race and eventually had to let them go. I struggled through the hills but caught a second wind over the final few miles and pulled myself back into the top ten – a moral victory of sorts, given how horrible I felt. At the check-in table in the finishing chute, I stood there without a bib number so they tried to kick me out. After some significant debate with the BAA official, a few of the other runners vouched for me. Reluctantly and skeptically, the BAA official asked, “OK, what was your number supposed to be?”
Well, if he was already suspicious of me possibly being a cheater, he’s certainly was not going to believe my number was #1. Hesitantly I answered and held up my index finger – and just as I expected – “GET HIM OUTTA HERE!” came the official’s retort. After a little more debate, finally, someone actually recognized me.
Upon reflecting back on that series of events now, I’m not sure if that ’77 Boston was one of my biggest disappointments or one of my most memorable races?
He really wasn’t sure, because the next day I received the following update.
Biggest disappointment and why? Part Two.
Similar to the number of “toughest opponents,” there were many disappointments along the way. One of the most salient is developing a tibial stress fracture less than two months prior to the 1979 Boston Marathon.
I’d run my PR at Boston the year before, then moved to Boston in the winter of ’79 to set up a new training base for myself – in part at the invitation of Bill Rodgers to come up and work for his new company. I was apartment-sitting for Bill, while he trained in Phoenix and I searched for a new home. He had a couple of stores and was starting a clothing line and it seemed like that might be an opportunity. Well, I didn’t take a job with Bill’s company and not with any other company.
I did have another good high school friend living nearby then, so had a connection. And when I found my place in Lincoln (west of Boston and a very bucolic town with livestock, trails, fields, etc. – ideal), I just trained out here all the time.
Foolishly not joining the Greater Boston Club and developing my running with them – likely would have helped. Another regret? 🙂
Having a win and now a fast time under my belt over the previous three Bostons, I felt poised to put those two together and truly contend for another win. My workout times confirmed I was in the best shape of my life when my tibia cracked – and that was that.
“She said a bad day’s when she lay in bed and think of things that might have been” – Paul Simon.
What would you do differently if you could do it again? Why?
Interesting and perhaps ironic that your next question asks who is my favorite philosopher – because the answer to this question is also a philosophical notion. Life for nearly everyone appears to be full of seemingly regretful acts – things we’d do differently if we had them to do over. The seduction of those thoughts is that if we were actually able to reverse the clock and redo some regretful acts, we naturally think our corrective action would make our situation today, after the re-do, better. It might be better – and it might not be. All we can be certain of is it would be different.
For example, how often do we watch a sporting event and lament some single error by our favored team or athlete that appears to lead to a final defeat. We’re typically certain that had that one incident gone the other way, be it a bad call by the ref or umpire, a slip on the ice or stumble on the track, that the outcome would have then been positive for “our side”. Again, all we can be sure of it that it would be different, but there’s really no way to know if it would have been a better outcome.
I’m reminded of the nifty story attributed to the recently deceased Baba Ram Dass (formerly Richard Alpert, Timothy Leary’s lessor known cohort at Harvard in the 1960 where they experimented with psychoactive drugs as a method and mechanism to achieve higher levels of consciousness).
The story addresses specifically your question here about “redos” in life, because whether a redo will lead to a better outcome, “Well, ya never know”.
There once was a farmer who had a horse that ran away.
His neighbor came by and said, “Oh, that’s terrible.”
The farmer said, “Well, you never know.”
The next day the horse came back, and it was leading two other wild horses. The neighbor said, “That’s wonderful.”
And the farmer said, “Well, you never know.”
Later, his son was training one of the wild horses, and while riding the wild horse, he fell off and broke his leg.
The neighbor came by and said, “That’s terrible.”
The farmer said, “Well, you never know.”
The Cossack army came through recruiting everybody, taking away all the able young men. They didn’t take the farmer’s son because he had a broken leg.
The neighbor came by and said, “That’s wonderful.”
And the farmer said, “Well, you never know.”
And so it goes.
So every time I lament some past decision I made, fantasizing about a more appealing “now”, I remind myself of all the good things I do have now in my life, and conclude that I would likely not naive them had I decided differently back whenever. To be sure, my life might be even better than it currently is, but then again, I most certainly would have been on a different path – perhaps one that would have put me and my bicycle in front of a fast-moving tractor trailer truck. So, ya never know.
Favorite philosopher? Quote?
Kant, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Heidegger, Seneca, and even a little Sheehan – it’s like picking one’s favorite ice cream flavor. As many philosophers would answer, “it depends.” Also, for their lyrics, Springsteen, Bono, Dylan, Henley, Lennon and others.
Two quotes tie for top honors: “The last thing a man wants to do, is the last thing he does,” from the movie, “Buffalo Bill” – and “Live each day as though it was your last, for one day you’re sure to be right” – from the movie, “Breaker Morant.”
Special song of the era?
“Born to Run” – it’s simple and yet…..the message and the energy are as good as it gets, IMO. Pursuant to your previous question, it’s all relative.
[On second thought.] I don’t know what I was thinking – or perhaps I wasn’t – on your question of favorite song of the era. Huh, hands down, “Imagine” by Lennon. What was I thinking?
Favorite comedian?
George Carlin – with a number of close seconds.
What was your ‘best stretch of running’?
1976 – 1978
And so why do you think you hit that level at that time?
I suspect there’s a bit of a “perfect storm” for all athletes who really hit their stride and approach their true potential at some point of their career. In ’76 I was 27 (and “in ’69 I was 21” – Jackson Browne), coming off three years of track training with good runners while squeezing in more mileage due to my previous road running mentality of the necessity of high mileage. Four years in the Coast Guard delayed my college graduation so I was also a 5th year senior at Georgetown. NCAA eligibility had expired, I was about to graduate and the marathon was my best chance to extend my competitive racing career. I kept improving until the season-ending injury in the spring of ’79 I mentioned earlier. I had some good races and a few bigger wins after that but never got back to where I thought I was capable.
What was your edge?
I just kept showing up. My version of Henry Ford’s dictum: “If you believe you can, you might. If you believe you can’t, you’re right”.
Most mileage in a week? Why did you do that?
151. Why? I didn’t know any better. I was in the Coast Guard and training with Ken Mizner (he was in the Air Force but had been a member of the Florida Track Club with Shorter, Galloway, Bachelor and Brown). Ken kept emphasizing the need for higher mileage and sited his teammates as proof that it was essential – so we did it. 10 of those miles were doing figure 8s on a basketball court during some horrific storm in Seattle. Success for us back then was largely about surviving your training so as to get to the next starting line supremely fit, well rested and still healthy – it was a rare mix that did not happen more than it did, for me anyway.
So many runners get injured before they reach their full potential. Your top tier racing career lasted for at least (—) years. What supplemental exercises, if any, did you do to avoid injuries?”
Winning is an attitude. That’s the would-be title of my yet-to-be-written memoir on which I’ve been working since last century. That phrase, “winning is an attitude” is my take on the familiar cliché that it’s the journey more than the destination that matters in life. That the process is more salient then the outcome and that the outcome is actually a byproduct of the process.
Focusing on and attending to the things over which we have some semblance of control rather than on things over which we have little or no control, in all aspects of life, makes the experience of daily living considerably more palatable. Ironically, doing so also significantly increases the likelihood of a successful outcome in any pursuit.
Vince Lombardi’s dictum, “Winning isn’t everything – it’s the only thing”, was misconstrued. He quickly clarified his meaning by revising that pithy statement to “Winning isn’t everything, but the WILL TO WIN is”. That may sound like a subtle difference but it’s vastly different. The will to win, it can be argued, actually has nothing to do with the outcome of a contest, of who wins and who loses. The will to win has to do with leaving no stone unturned in one’s preparation and their burning desire to perform to the very best of their ability. The will to win is the pursuit of excellence – to finish the game or race with a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment, knowing that you’ve done all you can in that scenario (the training and the contest) to win ‘your’ race or game.
If completely accomplishing that describes perfection, then coming close is an equally valid definition of victory. To paraphrase Voltaire, “The perfect is the enemy of the good”. In achieving excellence, even if not victorious, one does not defeat him/herself. That’s arguably a healthier, way to view victory. So regardless of the tangible outcome, a “personal” victory is achieved.
Timothy Gallwey expounds on this distinction in his renown 1976 classic, “The Inner Game of Tennis”. Tennis is simply the vehicle he uses to explain the difference between one’s personal inner game and the tangible outer game – so one need not be a tennis player to learn a lot from this book. He postulates that there’s nothing wrong with competition provided the competitor does not attach their sense of self-worth to the outcome of the game. But all of us do this sometimes, and some of us do this all the time.
Gallwey also proposes that when playing the inner game, one’s opponent is considered, in a sense, an ally – whereby each challenges the other – rather than an enemy, whereby defeating them “at all cost” is the sole objective of one’s participation in the game. (The excessive and obsessive focus solely on the outcome, on the “outer game”, is arguably the root of all cheating – from use of PEDs, to signal steeling in MLB, to against-the-rules videoing and football-deflating in the NFL, to calling a valid tennis shot “out” against one’s opponent in a junior high-school tennis match).
When I won the Boston Marathon in 1976, ironically the same year Gallwey published “The Inner Game” though I was yet to read it, I ran my inner race. OF course I wanted to win the race outright (after all, I was a competitive athlete and knew I’d contend, having finished 12th five years earlier in my first Boston and I was considerably faster and vastly more experienced at all distances) but my primary objective was to run an Olympic Trials Marathon qualifying time of 2:20 or faster. Realizing that the faster all the other top runners ran, the faster I was likely to run. As such, I perceived all the other runners in the front pack my allies. That cognitive shift made all the difference in the world. I’d never been so relaxed at the starting line of such an important race with so much at stake. And fortunately I maintained that state of relaxed concentration throughout the entire race.
If I didn’t qualify for the Trials, I figured my racing days were numbered. I was soon to finally graduate from college at 27 years of age and there was very little money in road racing back then. So graduate school or a full-time seemed imminent, neither of which held much promise for continuing full-time training and racing.
This novel mindset I took to the starting line in Hopkinton that year had been developing throughout my final weeks of preparation. I remember having a premonition in the final week before that race that something big, but ill-defined, was going to happen. I wrote to a friend that I never felt more prepared, more confident and more relaxed going into a big race. Then it all unfolded as though it had all be scripted. I felt so good and relaxed through the entire race that I stopped at the finish line simply because the race was over. I felt like I could have simply kept running.
Here’s a rhetorical question: Is every runner in a race, other than the first one across the finish line, a “loser”? In mass-participation races, only a small percentage of runners harbor visions of being the first across the finish line. The vast majority of participants are challenging themselves – their own perceived limitations – their personal demons of doubt and fear. The clock is the final arbiter of their efforts rather than how they stack up against the other runners.
Success and victory are not the same. One can be successful without being victorious. Most of the best golfers in the world rarely win a PGA or LPGA tournament and winning two events in a single year of playing thirty or more tournaments is extremely rare. Yet nobody would argue that an LPGA or PGA card-carrying player was not highly successful given what it took to simply earn his or her card.
Conversely, one can be victorious without feeling successful. If an athlete’s more salient goal is to achieve that state of excellence described above, she/he needs only to not defeat her/himself. That’s Gallwey’s inner game. To win the outer game, one needs only to perform less poorly than his/her opponent(s).
Josh Beckett, the all-star starting pitcher for the Boston Red Sox from 2006 – 2012 was seven innings into a no-hitter in his first home game at Boston’s iconic Fenway Park when he finally gave up a single. The Red Sox still handily won the game and in the post-game interview, Beckett was asked what he was thinking once the possibility of a no-hitter loomed. “We’re you thinking about the no-hitter and all that would mean for your pitching career?”.
“No” was his reply, which exemplifies what I’m getting at here. He elaborated, “Too much focus on the outcome will contaminate your performance”. Most competition anxiety comes from an excessive focus on the outcome of the game we’re playing or the race we’re running. The more we focus on the factors over which we have little or no control – like how our opponent will perform, the weather, or simply our doubts and fears, the more likely we are to not achieve our intended goal. We tend to confirm our greatest fears. Like a golfer hitting the ball into the water our out of bounds. “I knew I was going to do that” is a common refrain when that happens. Well, then why did you do it?!?
So, are the limitations in one’s athletic performance more mental or physical? Yogi Berra answered that question quite simply with his quaint yet profound axiom “90% of this game is mental, the other half is physical”.
Jack Fultz would’ve been included in Original Gangsters Of Running Volume One. But sometimes, he just doesn’t know where to stop or how to quit.
Something I read by Jeff Lowe just this afternoon comes to mind. What some call barriers, Lowe calls routes, hidden pathways wending to the top. “I used to think aging was a scam,” Lowe said, “a total abdication of your self. Well, aging’s not a scam, but quitting is. It ain’t over ’til the fat lady dies.”
Bests
| Rd / Track | Distance | Time | Location | Date |
| Indoor Track | 880 Yd. | 1:55 * | Wilmington, DE | January, 1975 |
| Track | 3/4 Mile ** | 2:58.3 | Philadelphia, PA | April, 1975 |
| Indoor Track | Mile | 4:08 | Wilmington, DE | January, 1975 |
| Track | 3 Mile | 13:34 | Philadelphia, PA | April, 1975 |
| Track | 6 Mile | 28:50 | Raliegh, NC | March, 1975 |
| Rd. | 10K | 29:05 | Pittsburgh, PA | March, 1978 |
| Rd. | 15K | 45:14 | Jacksonville, FL | March, 1978 |
| Rd. | 10 Mile | 48:29 | Borgholzhausen, Ger. | June, 1978 |
| Rd. | Half Marathon | 1:05:23 | Dayton, OH | October, 1978 |
| Rd. | Marathon | 2:11:17 | Boston, MA | April, 1978 |
| * in route to 1000 Yd. | ||||
| ** Relay leg of Distance Medley |
Performances (Pending Verification. Some look good, some not so much.)
| Date | Finished | Time | Flags | Type | Distance | Site | Race | Prize money | Actions |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 19 Mar 2000 | 25 | 1:20:19 | RD | Half Mara | New Bedford MA/USA | New Bedford | |||
| 16 Aug 1998 | 92 | 39:49 | a | RD | 11.265 km | Falmouth MA/USA | Falmouth Road Race | ||
| 01 Aug 1998 | 75 | 34:59 | a | RD | 10 km | Cape Elizabeth ME/USA | Beach to Beacon | ||
| 28 Jun 1998 | 2 | 35:57 | RD | 10 km | Chatham MA/USA | Chatham Harbor Run | |||
| 07 Mar 1998 | 75 | 54:56 | RD | 15 km | Jacksonville FL/USA | Gate River Run | |||
| 09 Jun 1996 | 20 | 40:23 | RD | 11.27 km | Litchfield CT/USA | Litchfield Hills | |||
| 11 Feb 1996 | 35 | 1:10:56 | a x | RD | Half Mara | Las Vegas NV/USA | Las Vegas | ||
| 01 Aug 1995 | 49 | 56:36 | RD | 10 mi | Newburyport MA/USA | Yankee Homecoming | |||
| 21 Apr 1986 | 354 | 2:43:41 | a | RD | Marathon | Boston MA/USA | Boston | ||
| 22 Aug 1982 | 6 | 30:34 | RD | 10 km | Allston MA/USA | Channel 2 Arsenal Marketplace | |||
| 04 Apr 1982 | 10 | 30:28 | RD | 10 km | Boston MA/USA | Boston Milk Run | |||
| 13 Dec 1981 | 17 | 2:26:35 | RD | Marathon | Honolulu HI/USA | Honolulu | |||
| 15 Nov 1981 | 3 | 31:01 | RD | 10 km | Washington DC/USA | Run for WETA | |||
| 01 Nov 1981 | 1 | 2:17:05 | RD | Marathon | Providence RI/USA | Ocean State | |||
| 13 Sep 1981 | 19 | 2:17:31 | RD | Marathon | Eugene OR/USA | Nike-OTC | |||
| 05 Jul 1981 | 3 | 29:51 | RD | 10 km | New York NY/USA | Pepsi Challenge | |||
| 07 Jun 1981 | 1 | 50:30 | RD | 10 mi | Washington DC/USA | Hecht’s | |||
| 24 May 1981 | 15 | 30:24 | RD | 10 km | Cleveland OH/USA | RevCo | |||
| 25 Apr 1981 | 2 | 31:01 | RD | 10 km | Franklin PA/USA | Pepsi Cola YMCA | |||
| 21 Sep 1980 | 4 | 1:06:53 | RD | Half Mara | Philadelphia PA/USA | Philadelphia | |||
| 03 Aug 1980 | 4 | 1:08:00 | RD | Half Mara | Presque Isle ME/USA | Natural Light Spudland | |||
| 16 Sep 1979 | 3 | 1:05:29 | RD | Half Mara | Philadelphia PA/USA | Philadelphia Distance Run | |||
| 26 Aug 1979 | 11 | 2:17:29 | a | RD | Marathon | Montreal PQ/CAN | Montreal | ||
| 26 May 1979 | 11 | 1:03:37 | x | RD | 20 km | Wheeling WV/USA | Elby’s Wheeling Distance Run | ||
| 20 May 1979 | 12 | 1:03:34 | RD | 20 km | Far Hills NJ/USA | The Midland Run | |||
| 06 May 1979 | 2 | 24:58 | RD | 8 km | McLean VA/USA | Spartan Road Race | |||
| 04 Feb 1979 | 81 | RD | Half Mara | Coamo PUR | San Blas | ||||
| 12 Nov 1978 | 11 | 2:23:07 | RD | Marathon | Auckland NZL | Choysa | |||
| 15 Oct 1978 | 10 | 1:05:23 | RD | Half Mara | Dayton OH/USA | River Corridor Classic | |||
| 26 Aug 1978 | 6 | 1:05:55 | RD | 21 km | Watermolen BEL | Heule-Watermolen | |||
| 25 Jun 1978 | 8 | 45:53 | RD | 15 km | Portland OR/USA | Cascade Run Off | |||
| 17 Jun 1978 | 1 | 48:29 | x | RD | 10 mi | Borgholzhausen GER | Nacht von Borgholzhausen | ||
| 04 Jun 1978 | 2 | 30:08 | RD | 10 km | Akron OH/USA | Akron | |||
| 27 May 1978 | 2 | 1:02:50 | x | RD | 20 km | Wheeling WV/USA | Elby’s First National Bank of Wheeling | ||
| 17 Apr 1978 | 4 | 2:11:18 | a | RD | Marathon | Boston MA/USA | Boston | ||
| 13 Nov 1977 | 9 | 2:07:13 | x | RD | Marathon | Auckland NZL | Choysa | ||
| 02 Oct 1977 | 5 | 39:46 | RD | 12.87 km | Boston MA/USA | n/a | |||
| 18 Apr 1977 | 9 | 2:20:44 | a | RD | Marathon | Boston MA/USA | Boston | ||
| 03 Apr 1977 | 1 | 1:08:21 | RD | Half Mara | Wilmington DE/USA | Caesar Rodney Memorial | |||
| 12 Dec 1976 | 3 | 2:24:05 | RD | Marathon | Honolulu HI/USA | Honolulu | |||
| 26 Sep 1976 | 5 | 56:27 | RD | 18.5 km | London ON/CAN | Springbank | |||
| 04 Sep 1976 | 8? | 1:18:18 | RD | 15 mi | Charleston WV/USA | Charleston Distance Classic | |||
| 22 May 1976 | 29 | 2:28:04 | RD | Marathon | Eugene OR/USA | US Olympic Trials | |||
| 19 Apr 1976 | 1 | 2:20:19 | a | RD | Marathon | Boston MA/USA | Boston | ||
| 10 Jan 1976 | 1 | 2:25:23 | RD | Marathon | Bethel NC/USA | North Carolina | |||
| 16 Apr 1973 | 23 | 2:30:55 | a | RD | Marathon | Boston MA/USA | Boston | ||
| 21 Jan 1973 | 1 | 1:02:12 | x | RD | 20 km | Washington DC/USA | John F Kennedy Memorial | ||
| 10 Dec 1972 | 2 | 49:52 | OT | 10 mi | Silver Spring MD/USA | n/a | |||
| 12 Nov 1972 | 1 | 50:41 | RD | 10 mi | Reston VA/USA | n/a | |||
| 17 Sep 1972 | 1 | 45:31 | RD | 12.87 km | Clinton MD/USA | n/a | |||
| 09 Sep 1972 | 2 | 36:40 | XC | 10.8 km | Washington DC/USA | n/a | |||
| 03 Sep 1972 | 1 | 48:24 | RD | 15 km | Greenbelt MD/USA | AAU Junior Championships | |||
| 27 Aug 1972 | 1 | 34:29 | RD | 10 km | Quantico VA/USA | n/a | |||
| 09 Jul 1972 | DNF | DNF | RD | Marathon | Eugene OR/USA | US Olympic Trials | |||
| 21 May 1972 | 4 | 2:26:39 | RD | Marathon | Liverpool NY/USA | AAU Championships | |||
| 07 May 1972 | 1 | 1:28:24.8 | RD | 25 km | Washington DC/USA | n/a | |||
| 17 Apr 1972 | 56 | 2:35:11 | a | RD | Marathon | Boston MA/USA | Boston | ||
| 11 Mar 1972 | 31 | XC | 3 km | Tunis TUN | CISM Crosscountry Championships | ||||
| 28 Feb 1972 | 2 | 9:16 | XC | 2 mi | Fort Walton Beach FL/USA | CISM Crosscountry Trials | |||
| 26 Feb 1972 | 11 | 30:42 | XC | 6 mi | Fort Walton Beach FL/USA | CISM Crosscountry Trials | |||
| 30 Jan 1972 | 1 | 1:08:20 | RD | Half Mara | Glenn Dale MD/USA | n/a | |||
| 22 Jan 1972 | 2 | 1:03:48 | x | RD | 20 km | Washington DC/USA | John F Kennedy Memorial | ||
| 09 Jan 1972 | 1 | 1:24:50.8 | RD | 25 km | Washington DC/USA | n/a | |||
| 19 Dec 1971 | 1 | 19:34 | OT | 4 mi | Washington DC/USA | n/a | |||
| 12 Dec 1971 | 2 | 51:34 | OT | 10 mi | Silver Spring MD/USA | n/a | |||
| 19 Apr 1971 | 12 | 2:27:12 | a | RD | Marathon | Boston MA/USA | Boston | ||
| 28 Mar 1971 | 7 | 1:40:39 | RD | 30 km | Rockville MD/USA | AAU Championships | |||
| 14 Feb 1971 | 1 | 2:29:58.4 | RD | Marathon | Beltsville MD/USA | Washington’s Birthday | |||
| 07 Feb 1971 | 1 | 1:10:18 | RD | Half Mara | Glen Dale MD/USA | n/a | |||
| 31 Oct 1970 | 3 | 26:53 | XC | 8.2 km | College Park MD/USA | n/a |
http://bostonmarathonpodcast.libsyn.com/jack-fultz-and-one-hot-day-0