This great lady is an Original Gangster Of Running. Sara Mae Berman – street name “The Notorious SMB” – a pioneer so early a trail blazer, the route almost grew back over before other women followed her lead.
I never thought of myself as an athlete.
I married at nineteen and a half (Larry was twenty-one). I expected to finish college, and be a homemaker and part-time interior space planner (I went to RISD), and to take care of our children (when they came). Larry was involved in sports at high school and college, while opportunities not available to girls in those days.
In 1962, after our first two children, born fifteen months apart, Larry looked at me and asked if I was happy with the “shape” I was in. Of course, I wasn’t, so he suggested we go running at the MIT track (not far from our Cambridge home). It was a cinder track in those days, and there were piles of dirt beside the track. We sat our two kids right on the edge, while we ran laps. They could see us and we could see them.
Eventually, I was able to run two whole miles without stopping. I felt very accomplished, but Larry said that now I had to run faster – this was a new thought to me.
By 1964, I was able to run five miles. Larry ran with me, and had me practice repeat 220s and 880s at eight-minutes per mile pace, but I just couldn’t maintain that pace for the whole five miles. Then, Larry had an idea: we should run in a five-mile road race; with all the other runners around me (all male, of course), I could take forty seconds off my per/mile pace. So, we showed up at the five-mile handicap road race in Marlboro, Massachusetts. Larry entered, I was just there to run, not to enter officially.
I started on the first line with two old men (mid-fifties) and two young boys, and me. We started off, and I tried to remember the pace Larry had tried to teach me. As the later lines of runners caught up with us and passed us, they were very encouraging: “Nice going!”, “Keep it up!”, “Good pace!”, etc., etc., etc.
My finishing time? 38:37, better than eight-minutes/per mile for forty minutes. That felt good.
I learned something important: long distance runners respect each other’s training; they knew you couldn’t cover the distance, if you hadn’t done the training. So, if you did the distance, you must have done the training. I entered many road races in the ‘60s, from five miles to fifteen miles, all unofficially – I knew the AAU’s rules. As I ran throughout the ‘60s, I began to move up in the field. I may have started near the back, but in several years, I was in the middle, then the top half. The men welcomed me, and that felt good.
The BAA’s Jock Semple officiated at many of the road races, and got used to seeing me, just running, without a number. So, when we decided I would run the BAA Marathon in 1969, he didn’t bother me. I was the first woman in 1969 (3:22:46), 1970 (3:05:07 – a very cool day), and 1971 (3:08:00). In 1971, Nina Kuscsik passed me just after Boston College, running with some teammates from New York. I didn’t like that, so I managed to speed up and passed her on Beacon Street, beating her by half a minute at the finish line.
Nina and I competed against each other in many other road races and marathons. In 1970, I beat her in Atlantic City at the Road Runners Club of America Marathon (a race for club members, so within the AAU rules): 3:07 to 3:12. I never managed to break three hours. I tried. In 1971, at the Plodders’ Marathon in Brockton & Avon in Massachusetts, in the early summer, a race for those trying to break three hours, I was on pace. Larry ran with me. With about six hundred yards to go, he said, “It’s now or never.” So, I increased my pace, crossed the finish line and promptly fainted. My time: 3:00:35. Close, but not quite.
In the fall, at the NYC Marathon (run in several laps around Central Park), Beth Bonner won in 2:55, and Nina was second in 2:57; I was third in 3:08. I was never able to break three hours. I was the oldest of the early women marathoners; I was almost thirty-three in 1969. The other women were in their twenties.
Larry and I began cross-country skiing after seeing the 1964 Winter Olympics. Women were competing at 5km and 10km on x-c skis, whereas in running the longest approved distance for women was 1-1/4 mile cross-country races. We didn’t know the proper technique, but we entered cross-country ski races in New England and watched the other skiers. We went to a ski training camp in the fall of 1966, and eventually we got better.
Our fitness from running helped us to do moderately well in ski races, and this eventually persuaded the Ski Association that their Team members (and hopefuls) should train year-round, not just after Labor Day. There were some long citizen cross-country ski races, in which I was the first woman (though some of the experienced skiers made fun of our poor style).
I entered many cross-country ski races in the ‘60s, often being put in the Junior Boys class. Few women or girls were racing. Eventually, a few began to compete. I usually beat them. In 1968, a Junior Girls’ Nordic Championship was held with the Junior Boys’ Champs in Bozeman, Montana. At age thirty-two, I was allowed to forerun (ski ahead of the racers on the slower new tracks), and the officials gave me my times, unofficially. In the 4km race, I was third, behind two girls from Alaska; in the 5km relay leg, I had the fastest time. In the summer of 1968. a US National Women Nordic Team was named: four teenagers and me.
We went to the US National Team Training Camp in Colorado, in November, where a women’s team to compete in Europe in the winter was to be named. I was assured that it was not to be only for juniors, because I was the only non-junior. A race at the end of the training camp, was supposed to determine the team. But in the end, even though I was fourth, they named the winner, the fifth and ninth places to the team. The last two were proteges of the coaches. That was really crushing!
In 1971, the US Men’s 50km Championship in Colorado in January – when 50º F temperatures made conditions unsuitable – was moved to Putney, Vermont, When we heard the Championship was coming to New England, we entered. At the race, the director John Caldwell (National Coach and 1952 & ’56 Olympic Team Member), told me, since the race was a Men’s Championship, he had entered me in the college section of the race at 26km. That didn’t please us at all. The race consisted of loops (some shorter, some longer). I asked him if he intended to stand on the track when I came through to stop me, but he said that he wouldn’t. So, I skied all 50km; my time was 4:24. The winner was National Team member Bob Gray in 3:12. Larry was, of course, faster than I, but we figured out that my last lap was faster than his.
We look now at our cross-country skiing as great cross-training, able to sustain our fitness in the winter months. Many of our complimentary exercise for skiing helped our running, also.
My arms were stronger, not needing to take oxygen from my legs.
My best running years were in the 1960’s and early 1970s, from my mid-twenties to my late thirties. Age group class competition was just starting, so I couldn’t take advantage of that. After many decades of running and cross-country skiing, I feel lucky to be part of these communities, wonderful groups.
Larry and I haven’t run since around 2000 – arthritis in our knees doesn’t like the pounding. [She had a knee replacement in 2010.] Cross-country skiing is our main sport, as well as orienteering and ski-orienteering.
I remember the 1970 race particularly. It was a cooler day than we had dressed for: in the upper 30s, not the upper 40s. Early on, my hands got very cold. I ran most of the race that year with a teenage boy named Dick from our running club. Around Wellesley, another running friend gave me his pair of gloves — it was so cold I had to pull them on with my teeth! Dick and I traded them back and forth every thirty minutes. Larry had finished the race in 2:38:03 that year, his best. But he donned his warm-ups and ran the mile or so back to meet me in Kenmore Square. We finished together.
At the finish line, someone draped a blanket over my shoulders and led me to the women’s skating locker room (there was a small pond to skate on at the Prudential at the time). I remember it had one light bulb, no facilities. It was freezing. I laid down on the narrow bench between the lockers, and rested for a while. Eventually, I roused myself and went to find Larry, who had my gym bag.
I got out of my damp running clothes in the women’s restroom – there was no proper place for me to change.
Sara Mae Berman – “The Notorious SMB” – is an athlete. An OGOR, mos def.
Achievements
| Year | Competition | Venue | Position | Event | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
Representing  United States | |||||
| 1969 | Boston Marathon | Boston, United States | 1st | Marathon | 3:22:46 |
| 1970 | Boston Marathon | Boston, United States | 1st | Marathon | 3:05:07 |
| 1971 | Boston Marathon | Boston, United States | 1st | Marathon | 3:08:30 |
| New York City Marathon | New York City, United States | 3rd | Marathon | 3:08:46 | |
| 1972 | Boston Marathon | Boston, United States | 5th | Marathon | 3:48:30 |
| 1973 | Boston Marathon | Boston, United States | 5th | Marathon | 3:30:05 |
Awards and honors
In 2013, Berman was selected alongside Bobbi Gibb as the 2013 Boston Marathon’s Grand Marshals. In 2015, Berman was inducted into the Road Runners Club of America Hall of Fame. And a lot of trophies.
