Pear Blossom Festival parade marshals have included Governor Holmes (1957), John F. Kennedy (1960), and Frank Shorter (1977) who led over 650 participants in the festival’s first annual mini-marathon.
Think January, 2023. Gainesville, Florida. The Florida Track Club’s 50th anniversary after-party.
I am having a private one-on-one conversation with Frank Shorter. He’s a good listener.
So, I go, oh oh oh, Frank, I have to tell you this.
“Late Seventies. Southern Oregon. Pear Blossom Half Marathon. I remember it was very hot and I was trying very hard. Feel like I’m about to collapse. Know I am running as fast as I can. And we pull into town, people closing on my heels. Feel so hot and so heavy. Look to my right and I see my reflection in a retail store display window.”
I look Frank Shorter in the eyes and I see he’s wondering if this is gonna be a long story.
“My reflection in a retail store display window, it’s you. I look just like Frank Shorter,” I tell Frank Shorter.
“I am floating along in the window looking like you with your great form. Just like you, Frank. Floating.
“Nobody caught me and I set a PR.”
I was drinking merlot and Frank had a pint glass of ice water.
Been telling that story for decades. First time I got to tell The Man himself.
Turns out my half marathon PR for the last thirty-five years was actually my personal best for thirteen miles. 13.0. Pear Blossom not-a-half marathon.
I am verklempt. And sticking with “Something under 1:20.”
Reached out to a few of the competitors. Haven’t heard back from Kelly Jensen.
I did have a brief exchange with Dean Irvin, then a thirteen-year-old who finished in 1:22:39. Less than three minutes behind me. I thought that showed a lot of promise. I mean, I was a hardened adult – leathery tough – over twice his age.
Dean is 58 or so now.
“Funny story. One of those years Frank Shorter won the Pear Blossom and I got his autograph. I then, shortly thereafter, went and heard Bruce Jenner speak. I was in line to get Bruce Jenner’s autograph, and when he took my autograph book and started signing, he stopped in amazement, and looked up and said, “Who’s book is this? Who’s got Frank Shorter’s autograph? That is cool!’ I think it was the year before, in 1977.
“[I] stopped running at 40 (calves wouldn’t take it anymore). Mountain bike now every other day and do 100k and 100-mile MTB races.
“What I remember about Pear Blossom that year…I was pissed because the youth category was 18 and under. How could a 13-year-old compete in that division?”
My buddies from Bend, the Hendersons, were more expansive.
1978 Pear Blossom Run Memories – Susan Henderson
The ‘70s were, in my opinion, the finest days of road running … show up at most races, pay a few bucks, get a handwritten race number, jog to the start line and take off. Then run as hard as you can, try to nail the person in front of you, hold off the people trying to pass you, and find yourself at the finish line with, just maybe, a personal best because you hung it out there. Nobody wore a costume, but everyone stripped down to a singlet and a pair of running shorts. Usually you had to wait to see your finish place while the times were being calculated and then printed out on a mimeograph machine. Really.
My husband, Matt, and I began seriously road running in those early days of the ‘70s. We ran in so many races we could never begin to count them. What a great way to see a new town, meet the local community, have an excellent time mixing it up with them on the race course, and going out for a beer and a burger that evening. Simple pleasures.
The race opportunities continued to grow during the ‘70s, with more and more races and a lot more people showing up. Things became more competitive. That was also the era of the youngsters—not yet even in their teens—showing up and racing stunningly fast times.
One such race, and my first experience with the Kid Situation, was the 1978 Pear Blossom Run in Medford, OR. The first edition of that race was in 1977, won by Frank Shorter. That put Medford and Pear Blossom on the map. Shorter! People flocked to the race that following year.
The 1978 edition of Pear Blossom was well attended. Shorter wasn’t there but more than 600 other people showed up, 592 of them finishing. Among the finishers was 11-year-old Teresa Barrios from Eugene. You see a kid like that at the starting line, you don’t give it a second thought. Really, how fast can a pre-teen run thirteen miles? I found out. I had that kid hot on my heels the entire way. I was 31 and knew my way around the road racing scene. I venture to guess Teresa Barrios may have had a bigger engine than me, but fortunately she had shorter legs because she was, you know, eleven! I was able to pull off the women’s win (1:23:14), while the fast kid, clearly trying to beat me, ran 1:23:39. That caught my attention.
In my opinion, runners took running more seriously in those days. They didn’t just run, they raced. They definitely did at Pear Blossom; in fact, out of the 592 finishers, the first 526 ran UNDER two hours. Pear Blossom was a perfect course, flat and fast, always well organized, and it became a longstanding race, eventually becoming a ten-miler that began to draw thousands.
Meanwhile, my husband, Matt, a 2:27 marathoner at that point, was up in the lead pack, deep in the hot competition ahead of me.
1978 Pear Blossom Race – Matt Henderson
After Frank Shorter had been invited to and won the first edition of Pear Blossom in 1977, the race was considered a top level event with top level competition. As Tacoma, Washington residents and Fort Steilacoom Running club members, Medford Oregon was a long way away. An acquaintance from Tacoma, who we think was Walter Stickel (1:30 in this race), suggested we “charter” a small plane and share costs. Walter was taking flying lessons and said his flight instructor could fly us down and back at a reasonable cost and make for an epic day at a great race.
Memories of the specifics of the flight are dim, but the race must have had a late morning start because we have no memories of a brutal early morning to get to the small airport, nor how we got from the Medford airport to the race start. After a smooth flight, we got to the start line with plenty of time to get our numbers and warm up.
Again, as with most of our running experiences, the long shadow of Jim Pearson fell on this race as well. Jim liked Oregon races and we jumped in his yellow Fiat 128 many times, running in races in Portland and Seaside. We got to know a lot of Oregon runners along the way. At the start line of the ’78 Pear Blossom, I bumped into Leon Henderson. Besides sharing the same last name, we had run races on each other’s heels a few times. We ran together from the start.
My recollection of that 1978 race include a few snapshot memories of heading off at a reasonably sustainable pace with Leon, and then getting in a pack of about ten to twelve runners and beginning to accelerate. I remember it seemed we were flying, caution to the wind.
My second vivid snapshot: a Jackson County deputy sheriff at the turnaround, jumping out of his car and directing us to head back to town.
Third snapshot: hearing our stunning ten-mile split. Personal record for sure. After some quick calculations, while under duress, I thought I could actually, unbelievably, this really could be happening, break 1:10.
The final snapshot is in the last mile of the race, going for my PR. The Pear Blossom parade spectators lined the sides of the road but black and yellow spots were clouding the periphery of my vision. Had a hard time keeping my head off my shoulder, while I was somehow attracted to the right curb. I was clearly on a thin edge, but the finish line was just close enough I could make it.
When we were stumbling around the finish area, Leon let me know I was one of the last two guys misdirected before the measured turnaround. He was just behind us but couldn’t close the gap the lead top ten had gotten because of their premature return.
I still savored the “official” 1:09:30 time. The results were ultimately published in Track and Field News; my time and the rest of the first ten had been adjusted … up. I think T&F News had me at 1:10:40 or so, which seemed more real. I am still amazed by how that fast – but inaccurate – ten mile split motivated me to try for my PR. There’s always more in the tank than you think.
It was a big race with a field of almost 600 finishers. One highlight was meeting and shaking the hand of Billy Mills, the gold medal winner in the 1964 Olympics. He seemed thoroughly impressed with the size of the field and the fast times people ran. Races in the late ‘70s were getting bigger and more competitive. The flight home late that afternoon was a blur. Susan and I had both run PR marathons in the previous ten months and felt like real road racers.
I knew Pearson would be proud but would probably advise me to run a more controlled pace in my next race. He always deployed sound tactics.
