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Monday, March 15, 2004

Daws, Hoag Connected to Event, Each Other

Part III: The Road to Boston

To hear Steve Hoag tell it, he wasn’t the most gifted runner ever to come out of the Minnesota high school system. However, some friends and running partners over the years may beg to differ.

“I went to Anoka High School where I was a good – maybe better than average – but not a great runner. I was All-Conference and went to State in cross country,” said Hoag. “I was a good, solid high school runner.”

Hoag ran at the U of M but was not on scholarship until his sophomore year, after having proved his potential during his freshman year.

“I was a good to better-than-average collegiate runner. I won the Big Ten two-mile my senior year, I was All-American at 10,000 meters, placing third at Nationals, my junior year,” said Hoag. “I was captain of the cross country team that was fourth in the NCAAs; that was the highlight of my college career. All three of those things are highlights of my college running.”

Roy Griak, the now-retired, long-time coach at the U of M and previously at St. Louis Park High School, was in his first decade of coaching at the U. “Steve was a real fine athlete. He became one of the premier distance runners in the Conference during his tenure at the U,” said Griak. “He was instrumental in the progress we made in our program. He was our number one runner for cross country; and we had a very strong team.

“Steve was very coachable; he was a hard worker, and was very interested in being the best,” said Griak. “And in the end he was the best. Steve did not possess a lot of leg speed. What he did was set an early pace and press the competition to the very end.”

And what he also did was make an impression on teammates such as Jim Lundberg. “I went out for indoor track at the U. I was a walk-on. Quite frankly I wasn’t destined to be a U of M runner because of the amount of classwork I was doing at the time,” recalled Lundberg. “But I thought I’d give it a try that winter.

“For my first workout I was running in the fieldhouse. Steve Hoag was running too. We started talking. He was, at that time, one of the best runners in the Big Ten, if not the best runner. I was in awe,” said Lundberg. “I was surprised that he was a down-to-earth decent guy, not arrogant; he seemed to like running like I did. I don’t think he would remember that particular meeting but over the next few years we got to be friends.”

When his collegiate career was over Hoag had toed the starting line in cross country, indoor and outdoor track for a total of 92 races wearing the maroon and gold of the Golden Gophers.

“I was pretty much going to quit serious running after college. I didn’t realize there were other opportunities out there. I knew there was road running but that didn’t have any appeal to me,” said Hoag. “I was actually looking forward to not running. I had just been getting tired of the grind of four years in college. It was fun but there was also lots of stress.

“I just wanted to get out of the U and find a job,” said Hoag. “I did not really want to run anymore at any serious level.”

Life may have turned out very differently for Hoag if he had followed his instincts at that point in his life. Instead, he chose to follow the lead (and advice) of someone he had met a few years earlier; someone who had a different attitude towards and an enthusiastic view of running.

“I had met Ron Daws when I was 18 or 19 years old. We worked out together when I was at the U. He was 10 years older than me and was sort of the guru of running,” said Hoag. “We always liked to have him run with us. He was entertaining to say the least. He knew a lot about running.

“After college I went on a bunch of trips with Ron. We drove in his car to Chicago. I got to liking distance runners – they were goofy – college running was much more structured,” said Hoag. “This was different – we would just wing-it – it was fun to travel. The races at the time were not well organized.

“Ron talked me into extending my career as a runner through road races. One thing led to another and one day he said, ‘You’d be a good marathoner,’” said Hoag. “I was very efficient; I wasn’t super fast by a lot of standards but by then I was a good runner – smooth and efficient.”

Hoag’s first marathon was in 1972. He ran 2:37 at Paavo Nurmi. He says he ran with a couple of other guys and took it easy in the first half. Then he picked it up in the second half to see what he could do. “It was very enjoyable to finish like I did – passing people,” said Hoag. “Then I knew I wanted to run the granddaddy of them all – Boston. I can’t remember if we had to qualify, but somehow I did get into the 1973 race. Ron might have gotten me in on his reputation; he put in a few good words for me.”

“When Steve Hoag and I began training together some years back, I could thrash him, if I chose, on the downhill sections. In anticipation to running his first Boston, I explained that if he prepared himself to run fast downhill with a minimum of effort he would gain a lot of ground over the 500-foot net drop. Anyone who can free-wheel after climbing Heartbreak Hill can fly past the competition over the 2-3 miles of downhill where most runners are too tired and stiff to run properly…”
–Ron Daws, Self-Made Olympian

“I trained real hard through the winter and placed 13th in 2:25. It was a hot year with temperatures in the 70s. I didn’t think I had run that fast,” said Hoag. “In the early days they didn’t give you many splits. There were a couple of guys in the race who had stopwatches and could tell pace. I ran about 5:30/mile. I was very happy with my performance. Back then 2:30 was kind of a barrier for good regional runners. So I broke it quite easily.

“The next year [1974] I trained a little harder and finished sixth in 2:16:44, which again was another big breakthrough,” said Hoag. “2:20 was another milestone that people wanted to break; you were a world class runner when you broke 2:20 back then.

“I came back with real good feelings from that race. I remember I was in seventh place going into the final area. I passed a Canadian at the end. That was the icing on the cake,” said Hoag. “Even if I hadn’t run that well, it was still a fun race.

“One of those years [1973 of 1974] they went to qualifying standards and that raised quite an uproar. It became more of an event to qualify for,” said Hoag. “It still has that appeal. It’s a big goal for people. But it took a lot better time back then to run Boston than it does now. The times were more in line with what people ran back then.”

Happy with his 1974 performance but by no means finished with Boston, Hoag was not willing to settle for his sixth place finish; even at what was then the premier marathon in the country. But to take his running to the next level, he was going to have to make some sacrifices.

“I really decided the third year – 1975 – I was going to go for it all. I ultimately had to quit my teaching job; I had a falling out with my principal; he didn’t like me running so much. Even though I did a good job and the kids liked me, the principal didn’t like the level I was running at,” said Hoag. “I have to admit my running and racing were very important to me. He gave me an ultimatum in 1974 – told me I couldn’t go to Boston – even though I was supposed to have one personal day each year. So I went anyway.

“I was sixth and it was in the newspaper. I knew he would be mad,” said Hoag. “The kids and some of the other teachers threw a big party for me when I returned. He was forced to let it go. He never said anything to me but I knew he didn’t like it.

“I was supposed to go back for my second year to teach but had been offered a free trip to Europe to run. It would have meant missing the first week of school but he wouldn’t give me unpaid leave,” said Hoag. “So I had to quit.

“I decided I was going to train real hard for Boston. We had a terrible winter; lots of ice and snow. The footing was just terrible; we had rain in early January. That froze and then we had snow on top of that. We were always running on ice covered by snow,” said Hoag. “Still, 95% of our running was outdoors. We just did a little indoors at the U’s fieldhouse.

“I did a couple of 30 mile runs; some 20-25 mile runs. Over every other weekend I built up to 30 mile runs – they were tough, especially the first one,” said Hoag. “Once you did one the second wasn’t so bad. Ron pretty much acted like my coach. Probably as much of a coach as anything. But he always said we helped each other. On the track I could help him work faster on intervals. I was faster.

“But he knew how to train. We were doing Lydiard’s training. We did some tough hill workouts for Boston. The weather, in a way, helped me. If you could train through that it had to make you tougher,” said Hoag. “We didn’t have Gore-Tex or even windbreakers. We just winged it – we found goofy things to run in. We were young and crazy.”

“After a season or two, Steve became so adept at coasting downhilll it now takes all I can do to stay with him, and I suspect that had we raced he could pull away. Since he is naturally proficient uphill, it’s now tough for the others to stay with him up or down.”
–Ron Daws, Self-Made Olympian

After a tough winter of training Hoag felt he was ready for 1975 Boston. “I went into that race just as fit as I’ve ever been in my life – including college days. I was in good shape,” said Hoag. “I couldn’t wait to get to the starting line, I was so ready to run. We really lucked out with the weather. The day before it was huge 30-40 mile/hour gusts of wind behind us. The next day it settled down – with still somewhat of a tailwind.

“I remember waking up that morning ready to go. What I remember the most prior to the race was I wanted to get it over. I wanted to run fast; I knew I could,” said Hoag. “Ron taught me to run even pace; even negative splits. He told me pace will kill you at Boston because of the downhill at the start. I went out 5:00/5:05 pace. That’s what I thought I could run. All of my workouts were geared towards that.

“I was in the top 10-15 places for the first 10 miles or so. I was just settling in. We were running fast; five-minute miles. There were a lot of guys that went out way too fast. I just knew that I couldn’t run any faster than that and finish,” said Hoag. “I was probably right around 50 minutes for 10 miles. At that point I was running alongside Bill Rodgers who was wearing a hand-lettered t-shirt, and getting lots of crowd support.

“At the halfway point he picked it up. I thought ‘I can’t pick it up – I’m not going to.’ I stayed at 5:00,” said Hoag. “As we started going up hills at 17 miles I was catching a lot of the guys who went out too fast. I went quickly from eighth to sixth place and still kept picking guys up. From miles 17 to 21 I picked off five or six runners. I was in third place at 22.

It was then that Hoag’s wife, Geri, stepped in. “She saved me a little bit because I was in need of fluids. She was right there at 23 miles with de-fizzed Coke,” said Hoag. “That was a life-saver for me. Back then they had very sporadic water at Boston.

“Then I heard on the radio – because there were fans with pocket radios along the course - the first three runners were all Americans – and I was one of them. They were making a big deal of that. Tom Fleming was in second. But I had forgotten about Bill Rodgers. I didn’t know who was first. I had beat Rodgers in 1974,” said Hoag. “I could not think of who the other American was. At about 800 meters from the finish I caught Tom Fleming and moved into second. Then I was just on a high all the way in. The course curves around downtown and the next thing I know I’m coming down the long ramp into the finish line.

“It was unbelievably exciting. I had run 2:11:54 – that blew me away,” said Hoag. “The crowd cheers a lot for second place.

“I thought if I had a good day I’d run 2:13-2:14. That 2:11 was one of the best times in the world back then, especially for Americans,” said Hoag. “It was great to have Americans going 1-2-3 at Boston. Bill Rodgers’ 2:09:55 was a course record and an American record.”

Although Hoag set out to run well at the 1975 Boston Marathon, his time and his place seemed to surprise him. “I was not a great natural talent. But I worked hard. I was on a high for a year or so afterwards. I was listed as one of the favorites for the 1976 Trials but I got hurt,” said Hoag. “It’s a curse when that happens. In the fall of 1975 my sciatic nerve went out on me. I could run okay, I still ran a 51 minute ten-mile that year.

“I ended up dropping out of the Trials in 1976 – at the 10-mile mark. I was running fast but I knew I wouldn’t make it,” said Hoag. "My back was aching and getting more painful with each step. I was one of a dozen or so that dropped out of that race.”

Even though Hoag may have been surprised by his 1975 Boston performance, those who knew Hoag well in those days – running partners and friends like Lundberg – knew better. “Steve’s Boston Marathon performance was absolutely not a surprise for me. It was my belief that he was one of the three best marathon runners in America going into the ‘76 Games,” said Lundberg. “The sciatic nerve trouble that he experienced was just a very sad day for U.S. Marathoning. I think he had an excellent opportunity of being a medalist in those Games but for that injury.”

Jim Ferstle, a freelance writer and frequent contributor to Runner’s World online, also used to run with both Daws and Hoag. “Steve had the most genetic gifts of the three of us. I met him through Ron. It was just about the time that he was going to be running Boston, before he was injured,” said Ferstle. “He was much more into running as a means to an end – because he was good at it. He wanted to see how far he could get with it.

“He wanted to make the Olympic Team. The Holy Grail for runners at that point was to make the Olympic Team. Ron had done it. Steve never quite made it,” said Ferstle. “It was very frustrating for him – getting hurt and not being able to fulfill his potential.

“Ron Daws was part of this long line of Minnesota runners that started with Edelen. All of those made an impact on the national scene; sort of around the periphery,” said Ferstle. “Even though Steve didn’t make the Olympic Team, he was included in there too.”

When his elite-level running career was over Hoag had accumulated some impressive statistics over a relatively short-lived career. Besides the second-place finish at the 1975 Boston Marathon – earning a second place ranking in the U.S. and fourth in the World Men’s Marathon that same year – he was the U.S. 25K champion in 1974 and 1975. He also was ranked sixth in the U.S. in 1974 for the men’s marathon. He finished sixth at Boston in 1974 and 13th in 1973. He qualified for the Olympic Trials twice – in 1968 (10,000 meters) and in 1976 (marathon).

Closer to home he finished the inaugural St. Patrick’s Day Mini-Marathon, predecessor to the current Human Race, second only to Ron Daws in 1973. He went on to win the race in 1974 and 1975. He was the City of Lakes Marathon Champion in 1973 and 1976. He still holds the course record at Duluth’s Park Point 5-Miler, set in 1975 (24:16). In 2000 he became part of the fifth class inducted into the Minnesota Track & Field Hall of Fame. And in early 2004 he was honored with the MDRA’s Pat Lanin Award for Distinguished Service and named a 2004 Human Race Hero along with his running partner, mentor and coach, Ron Daws.

The Human Race Hero award brought Hoag’s life full-circle, in a manner of speaking. After his elite running days were over he opened a shoe resoling shop on Grand Avenue in St. Paul. Back then some runners thought resoling would be the wave of the future.

During the 1979-80 school year Hoag also coached cross country and track at Macalester College, right across from his resoling shop. Chris Fuller was on the Macalester track team that spring.

“Steve coached me my junior year in track. The exposure to Daws definitely affected both the way he coached and our training programs,” said Fuller. “For an athlete like me, who definitely was not a blue-chip high school runner, he saw the way that hard work, mileage and support can make a big difference in somebody’s running career, as it did with Daws.”

Earlier that year, Hoag had merged his business with Garry Bjorklund’s running store chain to become GBS Sports. Fuller, in the summer of 1980, after having been coached by Hoag that spring, was hired by him at the store. “I basically replaced Paul Mausling, my roommate, who went home for the summer,” said Fuller. “I took his job.” Years later Fuller would become the sole owner of GBS Sports, eventually renaming it The Sporting Life.

In 1980 the seven-year-old St. Patrick’s Day Mini-Marathon was floudering. The St. Patrick’s Committee in St. Paul was going to drop the race. “Garry said this is something we should do. We talked to the police and they said if you want to do it we’ll be glad to help out, for a fee, of course,” said Hoag. “That year we gave the runners bibs with big numbers on them. And they also got green race t-shirts; this was before race t-shirts were given out at most races. Just for fun Garry put ‘McBjorklund Sports’ as a race sponsor. We had a good-sized crowd. With the store promoting it we had 500-1000 runners.

“In 1981 we caught some beautiful weather. It was 50-60 degrees in the week before and 60 degrees on race day. Everyone was wearing shorts,” said Hoag. “From 1981-1984 we doubled every year in size. It was, and still is, the premier running race other than TCM now. We just always had a real high quality of runners there; probably the best runners from the area.”

Hoag had already been a fan of this race when GBS took it over. “It was a good test for Boston,” said Hoag. “We used it as speedwork for Boston.”

GBS re-named the race The St. Patrick’s Day Five Mile. And much later it would be called The Human Race. Hoag was the race director for a few years before splitting off from GBS to open Steve Hoag’s Marathon Sports.

But his list of accomplishments and contributions to the running community doesn’t end there. “I think Steve is invisible in terms of his running store, and the success he had as a runner. He was an unbelievably accomplished runner. That information is out there and you’ve probably heard a lot about it,” said Lundberg. “Steve works with me as one of the coaches in cross country at Richfield high school now.

“I started out volunteering over there. I ended up coaching cross country and cross-country skiing,” said Lundberg. “It was obvious because of my business I couldn’t be there every day. Steve has been one of the people who has helped keep that program going.

“We’re pretty much on the same page as far as our outlook on training. He’s been working with me for three years,” said Lundberg. “Kids really like him. He’s a good listener. He understands that kids need adult role models. He’s been a real role model for them. He’s quietly given those kids opportunities to succeed.”

It hasn’t even just been the running community that’s been touched by Hoag. “He also helped me out as a boy scout leader. When my sons were in boy scouts, I was a scout master,” said Lundberg. “There were times when I couldn’t get enough parents to help me with an overnight trip. So he came along so we’d have an appropriate number of adults. He didn’t even have any sons on the trip.

“He’s not just a running and training partner. We’ve been very good friends for somewhere around 25 or 30 years. He does things for the community and has done a lot of things for kids. People just don’t know about it,” said Lundberg. “He just does it because he’s a caring person.”

Janice Ettle also met Hoag through Daws, who was coaching her in the late 1980s. “I remember going into Steve’s store [Marathon Sports] and seeing all these pictures from the running community over the years. I loved that history, I was always impressed with the history of running they kept in the store,” said Ettle. “When Steve was inducted into the Minnesota Track & Field Hall of Fame he was one of the silent figures in the running community. I don’t think people would expect that in a running store owner.

“People from his era know about him. But if you went up to runners today – would they know about him? How fast his times were? His Boston Marathon history? I don’t know,” said Ettle. “There are a lot of people who think of Steve as Marathon Sports but don’t know his running times at all.”

In 2003 Hoag sold his Marathon Sports store to John Long while retaining an interest in the store.

Hoag has been married to Geri for almost 32 years now. They have one 26-year-old daughter, Alison, who will be getting married this August. For Geri, that now-famous 1975 Boston was just the beginning of a long-line of races she would watch her husband run. “She’s been at a lot of races; she’s always been there helping,” said Hoag. “She’s the ultimate volunteer for me.”

Griak was another of Hoag’s fans who was never surprised by the success Hoag found with his running after college. “Steve had an illustrious career at the U of M and I knew if he continued to run he would do well. He was very motivated,” said Griak. “But even more important? He’s been a good friend. I wish him the best. I’m very proud to have been his coach.”

Daws was another coach in Hoag’s life and even today he credits Daws with getting him to the elite level he achieved in his running. “I wouldn’t have run as fast as I did. I may have run Boston at some point in my life – just not with the training that I did with Ron,” said Hoag. “He shared all of the knowledge he had of the course and running. There was a point where he was a better runner than me; I had potential to beat him and he didn’t care. He enjoyed helping people run faster even if it meant I’d run faster than him at some point.”

And so he did. His 2:11 at Boston was faster than Daws ever ran a marathon; and there was probably no one happier than Daws to see Hoag’s Boston success.



To be continued...

Part IV: The Green Jacket

Monday, March 8, 2004

Daws, Hoag Connected to Event, Each Other

Part II: The Self-Made Olympian


“…When you reach the 20-mile mark of a marathon feeling utterly spent, but finish somehow, you suspect you can conquer other seemingly unbearable events in life. After you discover you can set tough goals and prevail, you realize you can accomplish almost anything you put your mind to. You don’t have to look to the marvels of the Benoits, the Coes, the world-class to find your heroes; look inward to your own struggle and discover yourself. What you find may startle you, it may expose you to a whole gamut of emotions, but it will never bore you. And, as Theodore Roosevelt promised, your place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”
– Ron Daws, Running Your Best, Epilogue

 
Perhaps Ron Daws wasn’t a typical Olympic hopeful. Short on great running form or natural speed, he relied heavily on drive, ambition and some unconventional training methods. In 1968, he would have been a Las Vegas long shot. Most people didn’t even know who he was.

But ask his friends – those who knew him best – and they’ll tell you Daws couldn’t help but make the U.S. team in 1968. They’ll tell you the truth – biomechanically, Daws was a running nightmare. But no one could beat him on heart; or aspiration; or determination. According to them, he was an overachiever, focused, iconoclastic, perpetually young, and in possession of a childlike curiosity for all of life. That curiosity would serve him well.

Although perhaps no one was more surprised than Daws to be the third man in at the end of the 1968 U.S. Olympic Marathon Trials in Alamosa, Colorado. But before then…

Daws’ first run didn’t go well. He was 12 years old, living in Minneapolis with his grandparents. Daydreaming one day as he walked through the woods, he imagined himself as a forest runner, running the woods all day to travel or just survive.

“Swept up in the imagery, I could no longer resist the urge to run. I raced away at full tilt. It was a dream come true…Within a quarter-mile, my lungs were afire with the need for oxygen, and my dream of toilless strides gave way to a nightmare of exhaustion. With the waning of my strength came a sick feeling of frustration and disgust, and I stopped abruptly, bursting into tears. It came, therefore, as an unsuspected and devastating shock to learn that it would be many years, if ever, before I would achieve those mile-eating runs without exceeding the tolerable limits of pain.”
– Ron Daws, The Self-Made Olympian

It would be three years before he would join his high school’s track team as a freshman. He didn’t run cross country that year because he had heard it was ‘a nine-mile contest.’ In reality, it was less than two miles. But it wouldn’t be until his junior year that he first attempted it.

When his high school career was over he had run 9:29 for 1.8 miles in cross country – good enough for second runner on his team, seventh in the city meet and 14th in the state meet. In track his fastest mile ended up being 4:40.9. At the end of his senior cross country season Daws said he earned his coach’s backhanded compliment as a ‘persistent son-of-a-bitch.’

The University of Minnesota would be Daws’ next stop. In track, he struggled to establish himself. Phil Jenni, who would become one of Daws’ training partners and friends years after Daws left the U, remembers well Daws’ stories of having to run on either the inside or the outside of the track during the U’s track practices. “The coach at the time didn’t want him to hurt the star, Buddy Edelen, with his running style,” said Jenni. Edelen later became the world record holder for the marathon.

In Daws’ own words: “The five years of running at the University of Minnesota paralleled, in many respects, my high school years. When I graduated my mile and two-mile bests were 4:30 and 9:43. My best three-mile, at 15:22, defied the dignity of the word ‘race.’”
– Ron Daws, The Self-Made Olympian

In cross country his ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­penchant for mileage paid off.

“ …I fared considerably better at cross-country which featured a couple of extra miles in which to haul down the fast guys. In my senior year, I was fifth fastest ever over the school’s 3.9-mile course, number one on the team, and led Minnesota in the Big Ten Championship, running four miles in 20:33 to finish 14th. This earned me the U of M award for Outstanding Cross-Country Runner of 1961.”
–Ron Daws, The Self-Made Olympian

Daws’ running style was legendary. In 1996, Daws’ friend and running partner Pat Lanin wrote an abbreviated story about Daws’ for the then-combined MDRA/USATF-MN publication. “…Ron’s style was unique; his torso lurched with each stride, and his arms flailed as if he was beating a drum,” wrote Lanin. “… he was tested at the human performance lab at Ball State University and was declared to be the least biomechnically efficient runner they had ever tested.” But he was able to make the most of his other unique qualities.

“He had a tremendous talent for putting in the miles,” recalled Rick Kleyman, Daws’ college teammate and the Armstrong High School coaching legend. “It showed that when he did train he was a super-talented runner. He was destined to be good at marathoning; logging those miles;  pushing it. But all the while doing things right.”

“He was fond of saying he wasn’t a talented runner. But he was. An easy day for him was an easy 17-miler,” said Jenni. “He could grind out 130 miles per week. It was easy for him. He didn’t understand that it was a talent to be able to do that.”

Daws’ competitive side was also legendary. It was part of what drove him to train harder, run faster and achieve more.

“While at the U, I beat Daws in the first conference race of the season when I was a sophomore and he was a senior. We didn’t used to train out-of-season then so we came into the season in not too great of shape,” said Kleyman. “Because of my natural speed, I could beat some of the older runners in the early season. Daws came up to me after that race and said, ‘Never again.’ And I never, ever beat him again.”

All of this: Daws’ competitive side, his high mileage, dedication and determination – came together in his quest for a spot on the Olympic team.

However, the 1964 Olympic Marathon Trials were not kind to Daws. Then again, they were much worse for a number of other runners. Frank Murphy wrote of the Yonkers, New York Marathon Trials (which also served that year as the National AAU Championship) in his 1992 book, A Cold Clear Day: the Athletic Biography of Buddy Edelen.

“…The forecast was temperatures in the 90s on race day and the start was at noon. At noon on hot roads, out and back along the river, with more than an occasional hill, people could die. That did not seem an exaggeration and sensible people, people who ran and who understood, urged AAU officials to change the starting time. But the officials refused…,” wrote Murphy. “At noon on May 24, 1964, in Yonkers, New York, the humidity was high and the temperature was 91 degrees. The surface temperature was 140 degrees…”

There were 163 men entered in that year’s Marathon Trials. Only 128 were on the starting line when the gun went off. Of those 128, only 37 of them would finish within the four-hour limit established by race officials.

Ron Daws was among the ‘lucky’ 37. He finished in 3:25, good for 15th place. This marathon was where he learned about training for inclement conditions. His ‘heat training’ over the years after this marathon would become legendary to Minnesota runners.

In 1966 he was ninth at Boston, the premier marathon of that era. On June 11, 1967 he became the USA Marathon Champion (2:40:07) by winning in Holyoke, Massachusetts, thereby also securing a place as a member of the U.S. marathon team for the upcoming Pan-American Games. Only 38 of the original 125 starters in that Holyoke race finished.

Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada was the setting for the 1967 Pan-Am Games. Daws sustained an injury in the days leading up to the race and was only able to complete 5K of that marathon. He was disappointed, to say the least. But he was not willing to give up.

He was back at Boston in 1968. This time he finished fifth. The Olympic Trials were next on his list. But first he had to earn his place at the Trials.

Qualifying for the Olympic Trials was done a bit differently in 1968. Because the Olympics were going to be held at high altitude, in Mexico City, the USOC wanted to give the Trials qualifiers sufficient opportunity to live, train and race at altitude before the Trials. And, ultimately for a lucky three, before the Olympics. Therefore, they held six regional qualifying races throughout the country.

“Twenty runners, consisting of the six winners and the next 14 best times, would qualify for transportation to, and living expenses for a month at Alamosa, Colorado. There, with the altitude a little higher than Mexico City’s, three athletes who could perform in rarified air would be selected.”
–Ron Daws, The Self-Made Olympian

The regional qualifying race for this area was run in the Twin Cities. Daws ultimately finished a disappointing fourth in 2:24:12, more than four minutes off his projected time. After the race he was 18th on the list of 20 qualifiers. The kicker was – there was one qualifying race yet to be run. The winner of that race would automatically push Daws to the 19th position and if two runners ran faster than his time, he would be out.

He ultimately ended up in that 19th spot, and was off to Alamosa for the Trials.

On August 18, 1968, 130 men were at the starting line, all of them with Olympic dreams. In the end, 67 of them did not even finish the race. The course was five times around a 5.2 mile loop. The extra 385 yards were a short run off the course at the end. Although the odds may have been stacked against him for many reasons, Daws, through his meticulous, even pacing, patience and perseverance, ended up third. He was headed to Mexico City and the 1968 Olympic Games.

He finished 22nd in Mexico City and was living a dream he had barely dared to dream.

Daws was back for the 1972 Trials, finishing 30th. But his running career was far from over.

In all, he finished in the top 10 at Boston four times, including a fourth place in 1969, the year after the Olympics, and a 10th place in 1973. Before he was done he would also have secured the American records for 15 miles and 25K. Not bad for a kid whose first race was a 5:40 mile.

All of the impressive race statistics, improvements in training and positive race outcomes Daws accumulated over the years were testament to his hard work, endurance, ambition and his heart. For Daws loved to run. But he also loved to learn more about running. And he loved to share this knowledge with others.

It may have been because he didn’t have good coaching relationships in high school or college or perhaps in spite of them that Daws began, sometime in his college days, to follow the teachings of a man named Arthur Lydiard. Lydiard’s training methods were working wonders in New Zealand, but not given much respect elsewhere at the time. His philosophies would ultimately be a guidebook for Daws’ training. And maybe because Daws had missed having someone to help him in his formative years, he was even more willing to share his new-found and hard-won knowledge with others. He wasn’t going to hold back just because he had done without.

One of his best students ended up beating his times at just about every distance. For Steve Hoag Daws was a running partner, coach, shoe doctor, and mentor. Steve Hoag had not yet come close to his potential when he met Ron Daws.

“The turn which will leave only the last two blocks of the final lap comes into focus, and all that remains after that is the odd 385 yards to the finish. I am haunted by the thought that I am not actually third. Maybe it is all a miscalculation. I suddenly do not remember passing enough runners. As I turn left, leaving the loop for the 385 yards, Billy Mills comes into view, already in bermuda shorts and shirt, on the corner.

‘Am I really third?’ I bellow.

 ‘Yeah, and you can walk in from here.’

For the first time I believe my place is secure. Obviously, no one is in sight behind, and all that remains is the formality of finishing. I toss my painter’s cap to the crowd as I come in.

It is the end of a long-shot of formidable proportions. It marks a 15-year struggle from a 5:40 miler to Olympian at age 31. I ease to a jog and wave. Contagious smiles from spectators spread to my once grimacing lips and I think, ‘My God, keep smiling or you’ll cry.’”
–Ron Daws, The Self-Made Olympian


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Part III: The Road to Boston

Monday, March 1, 2004

Daws, Hoag Connected to Event, Each Other

Part I: The Beginning

On Sunday, March 11, 1973 the St. Patrick’s Committee in St. Paul organized the first-ever St. Patrick’s Day Mini Marathon (4.8 miles) This race was destined to evolve into the present-day Human Race run and walk. There were 45 runners that first year, only four of the participants were women.

Ron Daws won that 1973 race. Steve Hoag was a close second.

This race was certainly not the beginning of the Daws/Hoag story and is nowhere near the end. But it’s a good starting point for getting to know this year’s Human Race Heroes.

“I was looking over some of the articles about it [that first race 32 years ago]. It was very poorly organized. There were no water stops, splits or anything that you’d expect now,” recalled Hoag. “I think the traffic control was pretty much non-existent; although they may have had somebody there at major intersections.

“It was a fun, fast course. We ran down Summit Avenue from Cretin and finished at the Transportation Building by the State Capitol,” said Hoag. “I remember they did not have a timer at the finish. There was one guy at the finish line with a wrist watch, he gave us his best guess for our times.

“In the paper the next day they gave Ron a time of 25:10. I don’t know how they did that because the official at the finish line had no clue what we ran,” said Hoag. “Glenn Gostick, the trainer for the St. Paul Fighting Saints Hockey Team, won what they called the ‘elders’ race’ in 31:05. They didn’t call them masters.

“It was fun – in the context of races back then. As well organized as any,” said Hoag. “In their defense, they didn’t know anything about distance running. They had a good feel for it being a good recreational activity.”

It wasn’t until 1980 when GBS Sports, a local running retail store, took over management of the race. GBS became The Sporting Life in 1993.

“For us it was a good test for Boston [Marathon],” said Hoag. “It’s part of how we did our speed work for Boston.”

At the time of that first St. Patrick’s Day race, Daws was a 35-year-old veteran runner, a marathoner for the U.S. in the 1968 Olympics. Hoag, 25, was still two years away from his 2:11:54 second place finish in the 1975 Boston Marathon. Daws was Hoag’s running partner, mentor and coach.

Minnesota running lore has it that back in the 1960s and ‘70s, if you were a runner and saw someone – anyone – out running, especially during the winter – you knew who they were. There just weren’t that many runners out there in the days before the 1970s ‘running boom.’

Pat Lanin, founder of what is presently MDRA, was one of Daws’ and later, Hoag’s, running partners. He tells the story of the first time he and Ron saw Steve Hoag run.

“Ron and I were up at an all-comers meet at the old Anoka High School. We watched this little guy come out onto the track. They ran in age group heats for the mile,” said Lanin. “He was overstriding; he ran way overstride. As his race started he flew out into the lead.

“Ron and I looked at each other. We said, ‘that guy’s not going to finish.’ We thought he was a flash in the pan,” said Lanin. “He led the first lap. He was still leading in the second lap and the third lap. He blew everyone away in the fourth and final lap.

“That’s the first time we saw Steve Hoag. He was just a sophomore or junior in high school back then. He was just a little tiny wispy guy. But he ran with such gusto or maybe it was bravado. He was overstriding the whole way,” said Lanin. “But he ran away with the whole damn thing. While he was still in his first lap Ron and I were convinced the rest of these guys [in the race] were going to stomp him.

“But Hoag was something special; he was for real. We knew we had seen a serious, serious talent there,” said Lanin. “And he was just in the beginning of his years of running. He was just starting to find out what it was about. Ron and I were standing there with our jaws hanging open at the end of the race.”

Apparently Daws and Lanin never approached Hoag while they were at that meet. Hoag remembers first getting to know Daws just a few years later when he was a student-athlete at the University of Minnesota.

“I had met Ron when I was 18 or 19 years old. We worked out together when I was at the U. He was 10 years older than me and had graduated from the U years earlier,” said Hoag. “He was sort of the guru of running. We always liked to have him run with us [the U of M team]. He was entertaining to say the least. He knew a lot about running.”

Daws’ workouts with the U team were just the beginning for the running relationship between Daws and Hoag. Hoag thought his running career would possibly end with his graduation from college. But Daws played a part in changing his plans.

“I went on a bunch of trips with Ron. For instance, we drove his car to Chicago,” said Hoag. “I got to liking distance runners. They were really goofy. College running was more structured. This was different; we would just wing-it; it was fun to travel. The races were not well organized back then.

“Ron talked me into extending my career as a runner through road races. One thing led to another and one day he said, ‘you’d be a good marathoner,’” said Hoag. “By then I was a very efficient runner; I wasn’t super fast by a lot of standards but I was a good runner.”

 Daws and Hoag were building a relationship; a partnership that would eventually see the student pass the teacher with his race times. Daws, however, was an Olympian, and Hoag wanted badly to join that club. Daws had some ideas he thought might help…



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Part II: The Self-Made Olympian

 

Some Stories are Hard to Write


As I write this it’s been almost two months since one of my editors died. I had worked with Greg Marr, editor of Silent Sports, regularly for the past two years.

Marr was only 52 years old when, seven minutes into a cross-country ski, he died of a heart attack. Cross-country skiing was Marr’s favorite of the ‘silent sports’ so one could argue his death as a bit ironic. I just find it confusing. Greg was so full of life, so active. He was looking forward to what he thought would be some of his best ski racing ever in 2004.

Fast forward one month and I find myself knee-deep in research for another editor. I’m researching the lives of Ron Daws and Steve Hoag. Hoag was a little easier – I could still talk to him. I thought Daws would be more of a challenge.

More of the challenge has been trying to get people to stop talking about Daws so I can catch up with my notes. Even 12 years after his death, it’s so apparent the way he ran and lived his life had a great influence and impact on many people. They still can’t help but laugh as they tell story after story.

And they still can’t help wondering - why? Daws was only 55 when he died of a heart attack in July 1992.

As I talked to people about his story I became more and more caught up in the life of Daws, as told by his family, friends, athletes he coached, and people with whom he ran. I loved hearing all the stories that people were so eager to share with me. And I loved the opportunity it gave me to also think about Marr.

Ironically, I had met and talked to Daws. I never actually met Marr. I just assumed I would meet him one day. I guess technology gives us the best and worst of our world. All of my work for and with Marr for two years was done by email (he lived in Waupaca, Wisconsin). Not even one phone call in all that time. Seems amazing to me now but I just took our communication style for granted.

I can’t claim to have really known Daws either. In fact, I met him for the first time less than a year before he died. And I’ll be completely honest: I didn’t know who Ron Daws was before I met him. It wasn’t that I wasn’t into running and/or the Olympics. On the contrary, I’d spent a lot of time studying Evelyn Ashford, Wilma Rudolph and other great sprinters. I just used to be one of those people who believed anything over 800 meters on a track was way too long. And a marathon? Come on…

I could use as an excuse the fact that I wasn’t even alive in 1968 when Daws ran in the Olympic Marathon. However, he’d certainly run some impressive races locally, regionally and nationally since then.

So it was that I found myself walking into my coach’s house in Stillwater for a post-race party after the U’s biggest cross country meet in the fall of 1991. I had graduated earlier that year and was now a spectator and volunteer for the program. A friend leaned over, pointed to a man, woman and one of the U’s female athletes sitting on the living room floor talking. He said, “That’s Ron Daws.” The way he said it made me think I should know who he was. But all I remember thinking was, “Oh. Who?”

I was introduced to Daws that day, spoke to him briefly and actually connected more with his wife, Mary Hanson. I had recently graduated from the U’s School of Journalism where I had studied broadcasting. Hanson had produced her own cable television show for years (and still does!) [The Mary Hanson Show.] But I remember noting the quiet presence that Daws had. Not in a ‘look at me!’ kind of way. He just seemed like he might be interesting to talk to.

That winter and spring as I attended indoor and outdoor track meets, if Daws was there we would inevitably end up talking, at least for a few minutes. Each time I saw him I thought, “Oh good, now’s he’s going to tell me stories about his glory days!” I wanted to hear all about the Olympics, Boston Marathon, etc.

But he never talked about himself; at least not with me. He always wanted to know about my running background and my views on running in general. I was always embarrassed thinking, “What does it matter what I think? You’re the one whose lived this life of exciting, high-level running.” I was injured all the time at the U.

I realize now (and maybe I did a bit then, too) that he really did care what others thought. Probably about running and lots of other topics too.

Now comes the tough part. I’ve been assigned the unenviable task of trying to put Daws’ life into words. Luckily, many people have gone before me. I have them as interview sources and their great works as reference material.

Silent Sports now has the task of capturing Marr’s impact and contributions in their magazine. Maybe I should call them. I need someone to tell me – how do you take a person who was larger than life and condense him down to one story?




The Daws/Hoag Human Race Heroes Series (the first 3 of 5 articles):

Daws, Hoag Connected to Event, Each Other. Part I: The Beginning
Daws, Hoag Connected to Event, Each Other. Part II: The Self-Made Olympian
Daws, Hoag Connected to Event, Each Other. Part III: The Road to Boston