“First of all you have to have a goal, then you have to have a plan to get to that goal, Bowerman taught me that.”

I know what it’s like to have run the 1973 BAA Marathon.

Jon Anderson knows what it’s like to have won Boston ’73.

The race occurred on, felt like the first day of summer. Train all winter long, freeze your yahoo off, get to the big race and it’s hotter than hell.

Wouldn’t it be something to be a runner who could do that, I wondered.

I remember I had to walk up steps backwards and there was beef stew.

Original Gangster Of Running APPLICATION

When did you start running and why?

I started running in 1966 at age 16 to get in shape for my high school senior year ski season. Ran three miles almost every day in the spring of junior year and the following summer. I recall my first mile “race” was 5:10 in a joggers’ mile in the All-Comer meets probably in early July 1966.  This was after just a couple of months of the three miles per day.

I decided to go out for cross-country since I was running almost every day. I ended up the top runner on a mediocre team in my second cross country race. The ‘bit was in my teeth.’  I skied competitively that season while still running regularly, then turned out for the track team. When I let my Dad know I was going to keep running, he told me “Go see Bill.”

Our family and the Bowerman family have been friends going back to about 1950, as my father had worked with Bill when both were at the University of Oregon. I met with Bill around the turn of the year. He taught me the hard-easy approach, along with ‘date pace’ and ‘goal pace’ interval training. I started the program he wrote for me in the winter.

I made it to the state meet that spring by beating Steve Prefontaine for third place in the district meet two-mile. And, yes, that was the only time I beat Pre in our careers. I placed 8^th in the two-mile at the state meet.

Toughest opponent?

In college, Tom Spengler of Harvard and I had a friendly rivalry. He was tough and faster than I was. Senior year was memorable for both of us. He beat me easily at Franklin Park in Boston in our cross-country dual meet, but I trained through the dual meets we had back then. I came back in the Heptagonal Conference cross-country championships and turned things around, beating him handily at Van Cortlandt Park. But in both indoor and outdoor track league championships, his better finishing speed resulted in two 2^nd places for me in the two-mile, finishing behind him by a yard indoors and several yards outdoors.

After college, there were too many tough runners to pick just one.  I feel fortunate to have reached the level I did and got to compete against a lot of guys who were tough.

I know you can do better than that.

Okay, okay. Shorter, Rodgers, and Prefontaine. I was in the same race with them many times, but they were WAY better (so ”tougher”?, I guess) than I was.  And, I’ll add Tom Fleming. Anytime we were in the same race, he motivated me since I always wanted to beat him. He’d usually go out hard because his speed was suspect like mine but even more so from what I could tell. 

Most memorable runs?

In training – In 1972, Steve Savage and I took an evening run from Bowdoin College, where the Olympic team assembled prior to going overseas. We went out on one of the ‘necks’ that extend into the Atlantic Ocean, called Merepoint. I think we covered about 15 miles out and back. Beautiful evening. On the way back in the dusk, we passed fields that were filled with ‘fireflies.’ 

I probably could recall many more that are right up there.  A few …

A long run alone from the training center at Sognsveien in Oslo, Norway, in 1972 up to a small Stavekirche in the woods. Getting lost in Rome with Savage later that summer. In later years, some great group runs on the McKenzie River Trail; one with Damien Koch in which we hammered on each other in the last few miles of a 15-miler. In the Bay Area, I enjoyed parking at Stanford’s Angel Field and running out to Woodside alone or with some other runners who were in the area.

In competition – A tie for first … 1972 Olympic Trials 10,000 meters and the Boston Marathon win. How could I pick one over the other?

In 1972, I initially pointed to the Olympic Trials marathon after running and winning my first in mid-December 1971 on a rolling course near Petaluma, California in 2:23:44.

In June, I placed 8^th in the AAU Nationals 10K in Seattle a couple of weeks prior to the Trials. (They held the Nationals separate from the Trials back then.) But I was the 6^th American, as two Mexicans were in front of me. My time of 28:35 was under the qualification time for the Olympic Games, so I entered the 10K in Eugene.

The format for several Olympics in the 10K starting in 1972 included qualifying trials sections, two days off, then the final. This was a result of the 50-plus runners that ran the 10K in Mexico City. I easily made the final, getting some recognition for finishing ahead of Gerry Lindgren, among others, in the trial. Plus, I was a local and my father was in his first term as Eugene’s mayor.

The final was on a hot (about 95 degrees) evening. I hung back while Frank Shorter (who all knew would dominate the field) took off, hoping to burn out everyone except his Florida TC teammates Jeff Galloway and Jack Bachelor.  It almost worked. But I made up 8 seconds in the last lap to pass Bachelor about 50 meters from the finish to get the third spot on the team.

Jack was struggling for sure (I ran a last lap of 63+ and his was 71+). I recall passing Tom Laris with maybe 1 or 2 miles to go and moving into fourth. Knowing that is the worst spot one could finish in, I had plenty of motivation to run for third. Cheers, etc., followed me around the track as the spectators saw me gradually closing on Bachelor and knew that he was feeling the heat. With about 200 meters to go, the entire stadium erupted and swept me past Jack and to the finish line for a place on the team.

I had long promised myself I would run the Boston Marathon and decided 1973 would be the year.  I ran a ‘workout’ marathon (West Valley Marathon) on February 11, placing third in 2:23:57. This was my third marathon. It was a five-loop course, I think, and I ran the first couple with Jim Dare, Francie Larrieu, and Duncan Macdonald. For some reason after that, I briefly doubted my fitness and wondered if I should go that year.

But things came back together quickly. Included in March was my first marriage on March 10 in Oregon, some skiing at Mt. Bachelor for a couple of days after that and a 3 hour and 18 minute run on March 25 when back in San Mateo. I traveled to Boston by ‘red eye’ on Friday night, April 13 (race was on April 16). My father footed the bill, so I stayed right near the finish line at the Copley Plaza. It was a short walk to the buses to get out to the start.

I was ‘under the radar’ as a marathoner and drew no interest from the press. If I recall correctly, back then the start was at noon. The race was on a warm to hot day. I rode the bus out with the masses (a Google search indicates there were 1,574 entries that year). Jeff Galloway and I hooked up out in Hopkinton somehow. He knew Amby Burfoot from their Wellesley College days and we ended up with a group of competitive runners in someone’s (Amby’s?) apartment very near the starting line.

The group may have included John Vitale, Rick Bayko, Russ Pate and Ron Wayne. The last two were on the Oregon Track Club winning team (Do they have that competition at Boston anymore?). It was warm enough that we didn’t need to warm up much. Jeff had more marathon experience than I did as he had run Boston the previous two years and the Olympic Trials in 1972, so I decided to stick with him at the start.

German Lutz Phillip took off early. I don’t recall when I left Jeff but together we picked off some guys that were slipping back. I passed the leader Olavi Soumilainen, the previous year’s winner, on Heartbreak Hill. I was told later that it was very close to the 20 mile mark. From there, it was literally mostly downhill, and my thighs screamed.

Motivation overcame that and I entered downtown Boston just as the Red Sox game had finished. The place was packed. The finish line was not as elaborate as it is now, but I saw a ‘sea’ of photographers just past the line, so I crossed it and jogged back up the street to celebrate in front of the large crowd. The Finnish community near Boston had painted an extra ‘N’ so on the pavement the finish line read “FINNISH.”  That night Tom Fleming and I partied with the Finns at The Lenox Hotel. The next morning, I gathered my things together, walked to the subway station and got myself to Logan Airport.

It was a different running world back then. Jock Semple operated and saved the Boston Marathon on a shoestring budget.

Biggest disappointment?

I suppose not running in the 1976 Olympic Trials. I had a sciatica issue throughout my career (still do) and it flared up just prior to the Trials.  I had planned to run only the marathon and while many (most?) considered me a long shot, I did not.

Also, running too conservatively in my fifth marathon in Fukuoka, Japan, a trip I earned as the Boston winner (late 1973). I was fourth in 2:15:53, but still inexperienced in the marathon.

What would you do differently if you could do it again?  Why?

I would race more at shorter distances. When I started running back in high school, I already knew I did not have great foot speed based on my experience in other sports growing up. I tried to develop my speed in training. In college and after, I rarely raced anything shorter than a two- mile. Time trials and interval training only take you so far. I wish I had competed more at shorter distances to experience the difference from longer races. This may have given my not-so-great finish a boost.

Favorite philosopher?  Quote?

No philosopher to name or quote to quote. However, two people (outside of immediate family and close friends) I think of who influenced me in subtle ways come to mind – Dan Browning and Arthur Ashe. Dan Browning was my high school chemistry teacher. He ‘marched to his own drummer,’ raising and training Golden Retrievers, his real passion (though he was a very good teacher as well). Arthur Ashe rose to the top of his sport and faced racism in it and elsewhere with grace, dignity and humility, several attributes we should all try to incorporate in our lives.

Special song of the era?

Don’t Stop – Fleetwood Mac. “Yesterday’s gone, yesterday’s gone … ooh, don’t you look back.”

Favorite comedian?

Back in the day – Jonathan Winters

No longer with us – Robin Williams

Currently – Stephen Colbert

What was your ‘best stretch’ of running’?  

That’s an easy one – 1972-1973.  I made the Olympic Team in the 10K and won the Boston Marathon.

And so why do you think you hit that level at that time?

I applied for and was granted conscientious objector status to avoid going to Viet Nam (In the first draft lottery my number was 72). I ended up working in a hospital kitchen in San Mateo, California, from Fall 1971 to Fall 1973. My days were 1) Sleep, 2) Morning run (on workdays up at 5:30am and run five miles to work), 3) Jog back home about a mile away, 4) Nap, 5) Workout, 6) Eat, 7) Relax, then repeat beginning back at #1. Clearly, this focus and schedule toughened me. I did get time off from the draft board prior to the Olympic Trials (about a month), then for the Olympic Team travel and competition. During these years, I also hooked up with a bunch of passionate and very good Bay Area runners, who either were members of or associated with the West Valley Track Club (included were Jack Leydig, Don Kardong, Tom Laris, Duncan Macdonald, Jim Dare, Peter Duffy, Greg Brock, Darren George, Alvaro Mejia, Victor Mora, Domingo Tibaduiza among them).

What was your edge?

Knowing how to rest properly prior to a major competition. I saw some talented runners who seemed unwilling to just jog a few miles in the several days prior to a big race. Also, regular long Sunday runs of 20-25 miles.

What supplementary exercise did you do?

My coach in college, Jack Warner, had us do circuit training. But once I left college, I let that slip. I did do some light weight training for my upper body at times.  After I had both Achilles tendons scraped in 1977-1978, I did a lot more stretching which helped take some pressure off the tendons. I missed two years of competition (the two surgeries were spaced six months apart) and was fortunate to get back into it in 1979 to enjoy the running boom days of the early 1980s.

I see some OGORs noted their PRs.  Here are some of mine:

1500 – 3:50.3

Mile – 4:12.3

3000 – 8:09.5

2 mile – 8:45.4

Steeplechase – 9:00.9

5000 – 13:45.8

10000 – 28:34.2

1 hour (Track) – 12 miles 618 yards

Marathon – 2:12:03

10 miles (Road) – 47:46

Concluding…

I was lucky to have great support from my father. I started working for the family business when I returned to Eugene in late 1973. I gradually learned the business, while balancing work, training, and family. I eventually became the sole owner of the company. 

But I was able to continue training and competing until Fall 1984 due to some flexibility in work hours. A point of pride – I ran my second and third fastest marathons that last year, winning one in Sydney, Australia.

Several factors led to my ‘retirement’ from competition. The main one: I was 35 years old. At that age after all the running I had done, I figured any PRs were behind me.

“Why not think about times to come … yesterday’s gone, yesterday’s gone.”

Step by Step: Anderson ’71 Stars on National Stage

By Adam Bronfin for The Cornell Daily Sun. August 23, 2016

On the hottest day of the year, in the center of the track and field universe, Jon Anderson ’71 had just about lost hope.

He was approaching the final lap of the US Olympic trials for the 10,000 meter. Held in Eugene, Oregon, Anderson’s hometown, the time trials would determine who would make up the United States’ Olympic delegation in Munich.

Anderson, in fourth, saw his chances at being an Olympian slipping away. The top-three finishers would qualify outright to the 1972 games, while fourth earned a place as the alternate runner.

“I’m in fourth and I’m thinking ‘This is worthless. This is the worst spot to be in,’” Anderson said.

He knew, as a reserve, it would be incredibly unlikely that he’d get to represent his country at the games. Fourth place would mean sitting on the couch, hoping that one of the qualifiers would get a stress fracture. Fourth place would mean being so close to earning the vaunted status of Olympian, but not actually attaining the honor.

“I just started running as hard as I could,” he said.

And so, revered as if he wore Oregon green, Anderson was cheered on by the thousands of spectators in the stadium. As he made his way around the track, the noise followed him, almost pushing him forward towards the finish line and towards Munich.

“All of a sudden, with about 200 meters to go, I can remember feeling that the noise got even louder,” Anderson said. “It was like I got swept in.”

Anderson made up eight seconds on the final lap, sprinting to pass an exhausted Jack Bacheler with just 50 meters to go. He improbably took third in the race, sealing his spot to the upcoming Munich Olympics.

“In hindsight, I could not have done that anywhere else,” Anderson said, of winning in front of the hometown crowd.

Growing Up in the Track Capital

Before Michael flew and LeBron amazed, before Tiger roared and Serena dominated, there was Jon Anderson and a pair of hastily assembled Nike shoes.

Since Anderson laced up those classic white sneakers with the now-ubiquitous swoosh, Nike has sold hundreds of millions of shoes and has become a cultural and style icon. Born and raised in Eugene, Oregon, the unofficial capital of track and field and the birthplace of Nike, Anderson — an Olympian in 1972 and the winner of the 1973 Boston Marathon — was the first athlete ever to win a sporting event in a pair of Nikes.

Anderson grew up in a skiing family. With the help of his dad — the former mayor of Eugene — and a few other parents, Anderson and his brother started a competitive ski team in high school. Anderson got his start in track and field while training for the ski season during the offseason.

“The spring of my junior year I started dry land training which included jogging,” Anderson said. “And jogging became running and I tried out for cross country and that was it.”

The Andersons were family friends with Bill Bowerman, one of the co-founders of Nike. Anderson received shoes from Bowerman over the years, but, more importantly, he received advice. Bowerman was, after all, the longtime coach of the Oregon track and field team and is largely considered responsible for shifting the track and field axis to the Pacific Northwest college town.

“When I got into running, after my cross country skiing season, I was a senior in high school,” Anderson recalled. “My dad said you got to go up and talk to Bill if you’re going to go out for track.”

Anderson made the trip out to Bowerman’s house and, sitting at the dining room table, Bowerman offered him a green sheet of paper, a training program that would guide Anderson through his running career.

“His basic idea was that — this may sound obvious now, but it wasn’t back then — when you train, you train hard one day and then rest your body the next so that it can recover to a higher level of fitness, but the overall straight line is upwards,” Anderson said.

Bowerman also taught him to establish reachable targets and work tirelessly towards them. Talking about his life, Anderson returns to this concept of “the reachable carrot” often. It’s always been about setting attainable goals and coming up with plans to achieve these objectives.

From his days training as a skier in high school to running track in college to competing at the highest international level, he has consistently motivated himself incrementally forward, taking it “one step after another.”

‘What else am I going to do? I’m going to run.’

Anderson enrolled in Cornell in the fall of 1968 and immediately joined the track and field team. According to Anderson, the squad had fallen on “some hard times” in the years prior to his joining the program. He credits long-time coach of the program Jack Warner for reinvigorating the team and bringing it back to prominence. Warner began his 25-year career with the Red around the same time that Anderson entered Cornell as a freshman.

“Jack Warner knew how to build a team,” Anderson said. “Even though a lot of people think that track is individual, there is a team aspect to it. We had a team attitude and in my four years, you could see it develop.”

After struggling to adjust to all the challenges that come with being a freshman in college, Anderson really got involved with the team sophomore year, spending time with the guys both in and out of practice.

After a successful junior season that included a third place finish in the NCAA in the six-mile, Anderson went to a training camp held by the US Olympic committee back home in Eugene. Spending time with other runners, many of whom were several years out of college, Anderson realized that running could be something to pursue after graduation.

Late in his senior year, Anderson’s season was truncated when he suffered a broken foot at the Ivy championships, ending his collegiate running career. After graduating, Anderson drew a low number in the Vietnam War draft and moved to California.

After traveling to watch the Beijing and London Olympics, Anderson skipped this month’s Rio games.

“I became a conscientious objector working in a kitchen in San Francisco for two years,” Anderson said. “What else am I going to do? I’m going to run.”

Life was simple in San Francisco. Each morning, Anderson would wake up at 5:30 a.m. and run five miles to work at a kitchen in a small cafe in a hospital. After a day of work, he’d run home — albeit this time at a slower pace, taking a more direct route. A quick nap later, Anderson would go out again and train. It was “eat, sleep, run, work.”

Working in the kitchen allowed Anderson to concentrate on his running and to set goals for himself, always making sure the goals were within reach.

He credits the simplicity of the San Francisco days for the success he would find later in his career.

“There was some kind of toughness that developed out of that and some focus as well,” Anderson said. “I didn’t have any distractions.”

On the World’s Biggest Stage

After months of working in the kitchen, Anderson was granted some leave time from his job in order to compete in the Olympic Trials back in Eugene. He had originally planned to only compete in the marathon, but a conversation with a fellow runner named Bill Clarke helped change Anderson’s mind.

“The gist of the conversation from Bill and my thoughts was kind of ‘why not run the 10K?’” Anderson recalled.

The initial trials and the finals for the 10,000 meter were held early in the 10-day meet, and then Anderson planned on having about a week to rest for the marathon, the event he was most focused on.

Despite his status as a “hometown boy,” Anderson admits that many of the local track fans were surprised he even made the finals for the 10,000 meter yet there he was, on a sweltering 95-degree day in Eugene, ready to race some of the most talented runners in the nation.

After the gun, the heat caused the pack to string out pretty quickly. Anderson had laid back, allowing some of the other runners to burn out. After keeping a slow pace for much of the race, he worked his way back into the fray, moving into fourth place with about a lap to go.

His remarkable comeback, passing Jack Bacheler on the final sprint, earned him a spot on the 1972 Olympic team. With his ticket to Munich booked, Anderson opted not to run the marathon in the trials.

While he didn’t find the same magic at the Olympics that he found at the trials, Anderson still considers competing at the games one of the highlights of his track career.

Walking into the Olympic stadium with the rest of Team USA was like nothing the then 23-year-old had ever experienced.

“There was just this huge rush,” Anderson said. “Because we were the U.S. team, the whole place went crazy when we came in. Probably only the German team got a bigger welcome.”

After Anderson was done competing, he took some time to enjoy the city, running the Olympic marathon route with some of his friends, just for fun. “We set the course record,” he recounted casually.

The Olympics were overshadowed by a terrorist attack on Israeli athletes and Anderson watched the events unfold from the edges of the athlete’s village. A darkness hung over the games following the attacks and Anderson actually left early, skipping the closing ceremonies all together.

Throughout college, Anderson never made competing in the Olympics his target destination. Instead of having these “dreamy” goals of representing his country, Anderson focused on what was in reach at the moment, then set about accomplishing that.

“First of all you have to have a goal, then you have to have a plan to get to that goal, Bowerman taught me that” Anderson said. “Lay out that plan and review it with some regularity and adjust it if you have to, because things happen.”

‘It was definitely worth it’

Back in the U.S., Anderson returned to his regiment of training, working and occasionally competing. After racing in a few marathons, he set his sights on the Boston Marathon, one of the world’s most popular track events.

Like the 10,000-meter Olympic trial held nearly a year before, the day of the race was another hot day. Again, the heat strung out the runners and Anderson hung back, keeping pace with some of his friends. At about the halfway point, Anderson had positioned himself just inside the top 10. As the temperatures pushed past 80 and the sun continued to beat down hard, he began to make his move.

One-by-one, Anderson passed his competitors, moving closer towards etching his name in the history of the famed marathon.

Finally, all that lay ahead of him was Olavi Suomalainen, six miles and the incline nickname “Heartbreak Hill.” Suomalainen, a 26-year-old from Finland, was the defending champion and the favorite entering the race. There was a large contingent of Finnish supporters in Boston and they had let everyone know they believed Suomalainen would be the one winning the race by painting an extra ‘N’ on the Finish Line sign on the asphalt at the end of the race.

At the start of Heartbreak Hill, Anderson inched past Suomalainen, taking the lead, a position he would retain for the rest of the race.

“Once I realized I was in the lead, I never ran so hard,” Anderson said. “It was all downhill after Heartbreak Hill and it was painful, but I obviously was motivated. When your legs are tired, the beating they take is something else on a downhill.”

After crossing the finish line, Anderson jogged back the way he came, soaking in the victory. To cool off, he jumped in a fountain and let the water wash over him.

“The next day walking down the steps was difficult,” Anderson said with a laugh. “It was definitely worth it.”

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GCR:

One of your fellow Olympic teammates and Oregonians was Steve Prefontaine who is larger than life due to his athletic achievements and early tragic death. Did you spend much training, travel and social time with Pre and what are some memories you would like to share?

JA

I didn’t train much with Pre as it would have been hard to keep up with him and my training was so different. We spent social time and travel time together. After the Olympics we both ran in a meet in Rome in the 1960 Olympic Stadium. I raced in Rieti and he may have also. Pre’s high school coach Walt McClure always talked about how there was one time in high school when I beat Pre to get a spot in the State track meet and that was one of several things in high school that lit a fire under Pre. He had expected to make it to State, but I finished in the third and final spot in our District meet. I guess he was pissed off enough that it added a little kindling to the fire, though he never mentioned it to me.

http://www.garycohenrunning.com/Interviews/Anderson.aspx