Biography:
Tim Tays was a distance runner in Albuquerque, New Mexico as a boy and got “good,” but not good enough to beat the national high school boys’ cross-country champion who lived in Sky City Pueblo outside Grants, New Mexico.
Even though Tays never won a coveted state title (he was second behind a state-record performance by the before-mentioned cross-country champ), Tays was recruited to the University of Kansas to train under Jim Ryun’s famous coach, Bob Timmons. Tays broke a couple of school records (indoor 3 miles, outdoor 10,000) while at KU, and after graduating moved to Virginia to race on the roads.
He was “the worst of the best and the best of the worst” for a couple of years, and eventually joined the U.S. Army Infantry, assigned to the Presidential Honor Guard (The Old Guard) stationed at Ft. Myer, Virginia. He hoped to find some adventures to write about and more support for his running quest of becoming a “Distance God.” He competed on the All-Army Track Team and the U.S. National Cross-Country Team in the All-Military World Championship in Portugal before getting injured in his last race.
Forced to stop running for over twenty-five years, he returned at age fifty to again run in the Boston Marathon to help resolve a truncated running career as described in his memoir, Wannabe Distance God: The Thirst, Angst, and Passion of Running in the Chase Pack.
When did you start running and why?
In 1972 I was twelve and began jogging a couple of miles a day and weight lifting to get into shape to disappoint bullies. I went out for the junior high track team in 1973, won the 880-time trial, and felt better about myself than I knew was possible. I was hooked!
Toughest opponent?
I’ve raced countless great runners but they didn’t know I was in the race (Bill Rodgers, Alberto Salazar, Henry Rono, Paul Cummings, Rod Dixon, Greg Meyer, et. al.). Bill McChesney knew I was gunning for him in the 5000 we raced because it was the Oregon/Kansas Duel. He flicked me off by the half-mile point, then cruised ten seconds ahead the rest of the race, just absolutely controlling the race. I’d wanted to draft off of him at least, but he wasn’t having it.
Most memorable run?
I ran a ten-second PR in the 1980 Big 8 Indoor Track Championship, 8:51.5, to finish second to the future national champion, Mark Scrutton. But Scrutton was disqualified due to cutting inside the orange cones, so I was awarded the win. I like to put an asterisk by my win to show I’m aware Scrutton was out of my league but fortune smiled upon me, but secretly I’m proud of my performance.
Biggest disappointment?
I didn’t take State in high school, I didn’t make All-American in college, and I didn’t qualify for the U.S. Olympic Marathon Trials in 1984.
Special song of the era?
Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John. It’s long and shifts gears a few times similar to psyching up, doing a few sprints, and then crushing a two-mile race against worthy opponents.
What would you do differently if you could do it again?
High school? The same. College? Same. Roads? Eat better, rest smarter, and get the surgery sooner for the horrid case of Haglund’s Deformity that took me out of the hunt at twenty-five years old. I almost certainly would’ve had a much longer career, but I still didn’t have the genetics to be a true distance god.
Favorite philosopher? Quote?
“I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance.” — Socrates. I’m a lifelong learner and proponent of humans embracing a growth mindset.
Favorite comedian?
George Carlin. A brilliant social observer.
What was your best stretch of running?
From 1975 to 1977. I didn’t lose to an Albuquerque high-school two-miler in three full track seasons (City population 250,000 with fourteen high schools.) City records in the mile and two-mile during that period, plus a win in the city cross-country championship. I understand it was only one city in a state many people don’t even know is part of the United States, but it was my city, so it mattered to me.
Why do you think that you hit that level at that time?
I had a dollop of genetic talent that made distance running easy for me, and was raised in an extremely dysfunctional household. Instead of joining a gang of hoodlums, I joined a gang of distance runners. That, my anger, and a heaping helping of grit put me ahead of most other teens around me. When I left for a larger “pond”—Kansas University—I learned what dripping with talent really was and the limits of how far my grit could get me.
What was your edge?
I thought I had nothing else to help raise myself in the world. I “burned my ships,” so to speak, and with no retreat, I went headlong into rising up in the world of distance running.
What supplementary exercise did you do?
Do weights and stretching count? Otherwise, I ran up mountains, sand dunes, and even wore ankle weights as a kid because they were trendy in the early ’70s, at least they were in my world that was much more interested in the Friday night football game than the Saturday morning cross-country meet.
Personal Records
800 1:57.0
Mile 4:10.57 (indoors); 4:07.3 (relay)
Steeplechase 8:59.4
2 Mile 8:51.5 (indoors)
3 Mile 13:36.9 (indoors)
5000 14:09.38
10,000 29:44.48 (track); 29:57 (roads)
10 Mile 48:56
Half-Marathon 1:06.01
Marathon 2:20.39
Damn, you were faster, much faster than I knew.
I read your excellent book, which raises the question, why the hell would you want to be a distance god? That’s what I am trying to understand . We think we know why guys like Bill Rodgers or Frank Shorter do this, fame, fortune, babes. Glory.
But what made your ‘average joe’, back in the day (1945-79) run one hundred plus miles a week, grateful for the invention of the midsole?
I was the best me I ever was, but why did I do it?
Dr. Tim Tays answered this way, which is why he is WDG#1.