My daughter-in-law ran the 120th Boston Marathon last
week. She was one of 13,000 women in the world’s oldest yearly road race.
The very first marathon race, part of the revival of
the Olympics in 1896, was won appropriately by unheralded Greek water carrier Spyridon Louis in under 3
hours. Eight of 17 runners finished, seven Greeks and one Hungarian.
The Boston Marathon was initiated the next year, April
19, 1897, to celebrate Patriots’
Day, which had been invented in
Massachusetts in 1894 to commemorate the battles of Lexington and Concord in
1775, as well as the first bloodshed of the Civil War in the Baltimore riot of 1861. The Marathon was added to the patriotic holiday to link the American struggle for
independence with Athenian ideals of democracy. The newly formed Boston Athletic Association was well organized: alongside each of the 15 runners
rode a militiaman on a bicycle with water, lemons, and wet handkerchiefs.
Over the next 70 years, the race was transformed into
an international event for men. The field ballooned
from its usual 200 before 1960 to nearly 500 in 1965.
But women were banned in Boston. Into the 1960s,
athletic authorities claimed women were incapable of running that distance. The
longest AAU-sanctioned race for women was 1.5 miles. Women could not compete further than 800 meters in the Olympics.
By that time, Roberta Gibb was in her 20s. Accepted
ideas about what women could and couldn’t do were no longer universally
believed. Gibb watched the 1964 Boston Marathon and thought she could try it.
She trained on her own for two years, including a trip across the US which
combined driving and running. By the time she reached the Pacific Ocean, she could run 40 miles. But she couldn’t run Boston in 1966. The race director wrote: “Women aren't allowed, and furthermore are not physiologically able.”
Gibb took a bus from San Diego to Boston, arrived the night before the race, hid behind a forsythia bush near the start, and blended into the crowd of male runners as they passed by. She had worn a hooded sweatshirt to hide her illegal gender, but soon got too hot. She was worried that taking it off would get her in trouble, but the men around her said not to worry. “We won’t let anyone bother you.” The news that a woman was running spread quickly. As the runners passed through Wellesley, thousands of extra spectators cheered her. Fifty years later, Gibb remembered, “The women of Wellesley College knew I was coming and let out an enormous scream. They were jumping in the air, laughing and crying.” Her feet bled in her new boy’s size 6 running shoes. There were no shoes made for women. She finished in 3:21 in the top third of the pack, faster than average finish times for men today.
Gibb took a bus from San Diego to Boston, arrived the night before the race, hid behind a forsythia bush near the start, and blended into the crowd of male runners as they passed by. She had worn a hooded sweatshirt to hide her illegal gender, but soon got too hot. She was worried that taking it off would get her in trouble, but the men around her said not to worry. “We won’t let anyone bother you.” The news that a woman was running spread quickly. As the runners passed through Wellesley, thousands of extra spectators cheered her. Fifty years later, Gibb remembered, “The women of Wellesley College knew I was coming and let out an enormous scream. They were jumping in the air, laughing and crying.” Her feet bled in her new boy’s size 6 running shoes. There were no shoes made for women. She finished in 3:21 in the top third of the pack, faster than average finish times for men today.
The press were excited by her story, but unable to
understand her motivations. She was asked whether she had some axe to grind
against men. Photographers followed her to her parents’ home, where they wanted
to take pictures of her cooking. The BAA released an official statement: “There
is no such thing as a marathon for women.”
All around her, Gibb had found acceptance and
encouragement from runners and spectators. The authorities, the experts, the
people in charge said women couldn’t do that. They meant that women, their idea
of women, shouldn’t do that. After she did it, they said she was an anomaly, a
freak. We won’t let you do that. Roberta Gibb was a freak in a sense – she was
willing to reject their thinking and violate their rules.
That wasn’t enough, though. The next year, Gibb ran
again unofficially. Jock Semple, the race director, ran into the street to tear the bib number off Kathrine Switzer, who had entered incognito as K.V. Switzer.
Switzer’s running partner, a hammer thrower, body-blocked Semple, and other
racers protected her.
In the years after Gibb’s first Boston marathon, the
idea that women could do it, too, whatever it was, bubbled through American
society. It took a movement to crash through the walls authorities had built
around women.
Gibb ran again in 1968, beating four other women. In
1972, women were finally allowed to enter – 8 women started and they all finished. Title IX,
opening all forms of school sports to women, was passed in 1972. That year
women were allowed to run 1500 meters
in the Munich Olympics. The first Olympic women’s marathon was held in Los
Angeles in 1984.
The 2016 program of the Boston Marathon celebrates 50
years of women in Boston. Gibb was the Grand Marshall of Boston this year. My daughter-in-law did not have to hide or
feel alone when she ran. She didn’t have to be an activist or a freak. She just
had to be a runner.
Steve Hochstadt
Jacksonville IL
Published in the Jacksonville Journal-Courier, April
26, 2016