Wednesday evening, I'm doing something I've never done before: speaking at a Film Center. To compound things, I'm not even knowledgeable about films or film criticism. In an age where so many seem to be film experts, I'm assuredly not. Fortunately, I'll have lots of friends on the stage with me, and I plan to hide behind them. Other panelists include: Kathrine Switzer, Roger Robinson, and John Manners.
I'm not sure if the idea was Ben Cheever's or if he simply got talked into it by his wife, Janet Maslin, a New York Times book reviewer and a board member, if not board president, of the Jacob Burns Film Center in Pleasantville NY. At any rate, someone decided that the Center should host an evening discussion on the theme of "Endurance" in movies. I believe this was meant as a sort of prelude to the second Westchester Marathon, scheduled for October 8 (see WestchesterMarathon.com). After considering various films, the Center decided to focus on the 1964 Tokyo Olympiad movie, with its famous footage of Ethiopian Abebe Bikila's second-straight gold medal, this one in the startling world-record time of 2:12:11. We'll also get to review Billy Mills's completely unexpected victory in the 10,000 meters. Here's the info on our presentation.
I look forward to seeing how the crowd reacts to the distance sequences, especially Bikila's run. I'm assuming most won't know much about Bikila, or perhaps about running/marathoning in general. It will be fun to see what questions they raise, and how we answer them. I hope to bring you a report a couple of days after the event.
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For myself, I have a very sharp memory of the Mills win. And, having just reviewed the Tokyo Olympiad DVD, a quick observation on Bikila.
I was a college freshman in the fall of 1964 when the Tokyo Games were held, and I recall showing up at cross-country practice one afternoon when a teammate reported that he had just heard on the radio about Mills win. I straightout told him he was nuts; he had obviously misunderstood what was said. You see, I actually knew who Billy Mills was, which virtually no one else did at the time. I had been reading my Distance Running Newses and my Track & Field News, and I recognized Mills as a good but not exceptional American 5,000 and 10,000-meter runner. Which meant that, on the world scene, he was a complete nonentity. His chances of winning Olympic gold were way worse than 100 to 1.
Of course, the next morning's newspapers confirmed the Mills victory with astonishing photographic proof. Now I was his most excited and enthusiastic fan. I immediately sat down and wrote a long letter home to my parents. The gist of it was simple: If a nobody like Billy Mills can win an Olympic gold medal, then maybe a nobody like me could win something important some day. The Mills story meant everything to me; it fueled my training like nothing before.
When you watch Bikila win the Olympic Marathon, you notice many things, and take home different messages. Here's what I noticed: He was the last to walk to the start line, and casually positioned himself several meters behind everyone else. As the pack circled the stadium track, he stayed in the rear. The ever-majestic Bikila was in no hurry. He knew that he had plenty of time to perform his appointed task, he took his time, and he commanded the marathon like no one before him or since.
I didn't previously own a copy of the Tokyo Olympiad DVD. Now that I do, I'm sure I'll review it often, mostly to appreciate and re-appreciate the miracle of Abebe Bikila. (You can buy a copy from Amazon.com here, and I'm sure at many other Internet sites.)
