What follows is an excerpt from When Running Was Young & So Were We. Another take on The Duel In The Sun as the 1982 Boston Marathon came to be known. I was there. – JDW…..
When Mrs. Beardsley’s boy Dick ran the second fastest time in U.S. history last June, winning the Grandma’s Marathon in 2:09:37, he was shocked.
“For two weeks after the race,” Beardsley said, “I kept pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.” The 5-11/128 Minnesotan must be black and blue after chasing Alberto Salazar to a Boston record 2:08:51.
While the World Record holder was lunching intravenously in the parking garage of the Prudential Center, Beardsley was glassy-eyed as a result of his 2:08:53. He had said last year, “I might never run another 2:09, but I feel I’ve got a faster marathon in me.”
Well, it’s out of him now. Previously second-fastest behind Alberto The Great, Dick remains in the same position on the all-time U.S. list. Not bad for a guy who ran his first marathon in October, 1977, in 2:33:45. “The last three miles I never hurt so badly in my life,” he remembers.
Obviously, the pain diminishes when you spend less time actually on the road. Regarding Boston, Beardsley said, “I felt as good as I ever had after a marathon.”
Dick is justifiably proud of his 11th personal record. He has established a pattern of improvement and see no reason to stop now. “I think I can run better,” Beardsley opined. “Maybe we’ll find out at Fukuoka next.”
Before Fukuoka though, there’ll be Grandma’s again, just down the road a piece from his 100-year-old log cabin home. “I usually recuperate rapidly after a marathon,” explains Beardsley, “but I don’t know how well I’ll do in June. I do think my 2:08 at Boston really legitimizes my 2:09 at Grandma’s… for that matter, it legitimizes that event itself. Duluth is fast.”
So, too, is Dick Beardsley, and his speed does not arise from awesome natural ability but from hard work. “I went to Atlanta two months before Boston,” Beardsley offers. “Why? I needed a place I could train in a T-shirt and shorts. People up here were wearing snowmobile suits!”
Dick trained with Dean Matthews, the duo working together for a goal only one could achieve.
“We had some 140-mile weeks but they were just part of a buildup phase,” he reveals. “After that, I cut back to 120 miles weekly and did some good quality work.” Little was left to chance. From Atlanta, Beardsley flew to Boston to get acclimated, and to train on famously infamous Heartbreak Hill. New England’s weather, however, was less than accommodating, but, like any marathoner, Beardsley is tenacious.
Wearing a specially-designed pair of training shoes, Dick worked Heartbreak early before the snow piled up. There was enough traction to get in a good hill workout, but no way was Beardsley to battle the abominable snow mass. Back to Atlanta.
Beardsley is not necessarily a creature of habit, but there is one essential training exercise which occurs 12 days before every marathon – a 20-mile run… the hard way. Dick begins the workout with a two-mile warm-up, then the third mile goes past in 4:35. For 7 miles he cruises at 5:30 pace. During the next three miles, he throws in repeated one-minute surges. Deep breath, then three miles at 4:35 with six-minute “coasts” (5:20 pace) through 18 miles.
Back at the track he concludes his labors with two miles in 9:30. It is a decent effort. “I did that in 1:52 or so, nothing special,” Beardsley recalls. “I’ve done that workout as quick as 1:45.”
Twelve days later, that kind of time would’ve put him just a mile ahead of Grete Waitz, but Dick Beardsley wasn’t running a workout twelve days later. This was the Boston Marathon – in the last year of its commercial virginity – and the man alongside was The Man.
“We shot out at the gun,” Beardsley reminisces, “it seemed like a 100-yard dash. We hit the first mile mark in 4:33 or something but it didn’t seem that fast ‘cause it’s downhill and the adrenaline’s really pumping. I didn’t feel too good the first five miles. We hit that at 23:58 and I finally got into a rhythm. There was a large lead pack… so big I didn’t even get listed in the top ten.”
“At 16 miles, [Bill] Rodgers threw in a burst on his favorite downhill section,” continues Beardsley, the excitement of the competition obvious in his voice. “We stayed with him and at 17 miles, I figured, well, heck… I surged a little and Billy fell off by 15 meters.”
Beardsley was still worried about Rodgers: “It’s his course. Besides, I have more respect for Bill Rodgers than any other runner I know.”
The four-time champion was beaten and, on the first hill, a surprising Ed Mendoza dropped when Dick worked the first major climb. “I felt great, really good going through the hills. My plan was to push every downhill section after Heartbreak.”
Excuse me, but even the best laid plans do not often beat Alberto Salazar.
“I honestly thought I had him,” Beardsley said, “because I thought he would make his move sooner. The biggest factor was my right hamstring knotted up badly at the Eliot Lounge. My stride fell to pieces and Alberto just swooped on by.”
As he spoke, Beardsley seemed to return to Hereford Street. “Oddly, I stepped in a chuckhole and that strange movement seemed to make the charley-horse better. Any publicity about horses or motorcycles getting in my way… well, I did lose my concentration and rhythm, but I still thought I could get Alberto when I caught up to him again just before the finish line
straightaway. He was just too tough.”
Beardsley is not exactly a marshmallow himself. He’ll run faster, he thinks. And he is eager – well, maybe not eager, but certainly willing – to run against Mr. Salazar again.
“If Alberto is human, if he’s not made of iron parts or some miracle alloy,” Dick offers, “then it is my feeling that he is beatable. I don’t mean to take anything away from the man, but on a good day I feel I can beat him.” Beardsley will have to take victory away from Salazar, because it certainly will not be surrendered.
“Alberto gave me a compliment at the awards ceremony,” Beardsley said, lowering his voice as if to confide something important to a friend. “Alberto said he ‘had never been pushed harder by anybody than he had by Dick Beardsley,“ and that meant more to me than any medal or honor I’ve ever received or ever hope to receive.”
Alberto Salazar, now that he is again eating with a knife and fork, is probably grateful to have experienced such a titanic competitive struggle. The World Record holder is not in this sport simply for the exercise. The man is here to test himself and to be tested. Dick Beardsley, a gentle man and an unlikely sports hero, provided that test.
“I was awarded second place,” he points out, “but I don’t feel like I lost.”
(If you enjoy the sport of running and have not yet purchased my book, you may be a knucklehead.. – JDW)