This is a piece I wrote on Steve Prefontaine, and what he means to me, fifty years after his death.
Steve Prefontaine was my generations’s rock star runner.
Marc Bloom, the esteemed writer of The Runner, and editor of The Harrier, called Steve Prefontaine, “the James Dean of Running.”
Steve Prefontaine held American records from 2,000 meters to 10,000 meters, at the time of his death. When the late Bill Dellinger heard that Pre had died on his drive home from a party at Kenny Moore (Olympian at marathon, 1968, 1972, Sports Illustrated senior writer, chronicler of our sport), it was noted that Bill Dellinger pulled his phone from the wall, and threw it across the room.
Frank Shorter, Olympic 1972 gold medalist and silver medalist in 1976, told a crowd at Pre in 1993 that he never recovered from Pre’s death. The conversation (I was there), in the stands with probably a thousand people, sitting for a long shot for one of the Pre movies, that Pre and Shorter had grown close training and racing. It was honest, it was full of pain, all those years later.
Friends, just a few years older than me have told me stories about drinking a beer or three with Steve after NCAA events. There is this glorious photo of Steve Prefontaine with John Ngeno after a brutal 3 mile at Hayward, and Ngeno is laughing outrageously. I always think that Steve was telling Ngeno an off-color joke. Seems in character with all that I have been told about Steve Prefontaine.
Kenny Moore, in a piece on Steve Prefontaine, after his death, notes that, when asked about Steve Prefontaine’s antics, Frank Shorter smiled an noted, conspiratorily, “Consider a satyr.” Look that up, kids.
Steve Prefontaine was a hard-living, hard-drinking 25 year old who loved to race, felt injustice at an intestinal level and loved with his whole heart (at time of his death, he had two official girl friends, I believe, quite genuine relationships, I am told). His running was unapologetic, brave and focused. He took on all comers, and was beat by many of the world’s best. Steve Prefontaine also beat many of them, and probably re-played the races in his mind’s eye, as he ran those ten milers in the cemetary behind Hayward Field, not telling anyone when he would make a right turn or left turn on the rainy stones. Running at six-minute pace (Steve did not like running slow), Steve could be a challenge to train with. Pat Tyson got it, and was one of the few Pre would tolerate on some of those challenging sessions.
Consistency is another legacy. Coach Bill Bowerman, who passed away last Friday at the ripe old age of 91, told assembled writers on more than one occasion that Pre did not miss a single workout during his four years at Oregon. That is a big deal. Dellinger’s artistry with the workouts and Prefontaine’s tenacity were a wonderous combination.
Ever run a 10,000m on the track? This writer raced the 25 lapper over three dozen times. One felt like crap or nearly like crap. When Prefontaine set the AR (27:43.6), he ran all alone over the last laps, gutting it out. I always wanted to see Pre race an hour, I think he could have been incredible.
Each year when I go to the NIKE Pre Classic, I think of that 25 year old Steve Prefontaine. I almost see him, in my mind’s eye up in the stands, high up, with a PBR in a paper bag, perhaps a burger too, enjoying each and every event in the track AND field meet that is held each year to respect his legacy. Oh, Steve Prefontaine loved field events. He loved to give Mac Wilkins, Olympic discus gold medalist lots of razing, Wilkins called Pre “world famous”. No one else got away with that one, I am told.
Each year, I read the eulogy by the late Kenny Moore, posted here. Each year, I tear up, appreciating now, at the ripening age of 66, how little I knew at 25, and how it would have been great to know Steve Prefontaine. I was supposed to see him in the winter of 1975 at the Cow Palace Indoor Games where he was to battle John Ngeno. I was unable to go, as I had to babysit. So it goes, as Kurt Vonnegut noted.
So it goes….
