Rod Dixon

1983 New York Marathon Victory Remembered



I remember having lunch in Rome before the 1982 World Cross Country. (New York City Marathon director) Fred Lebow said that I was clearly the best road racer in the world. "But Rod, most Americans relate road running to marathons. The marathon is the measure of a man." So I said, "What does that mean, I've got to run a marathon to prove myself?" I thought I'll show you bastards…

After all I was an Olympic 1500 metre medallist (bronze, Munich 1972), I'd run cross country, indoor track, 5000 and 10 000 metre, and set the world record for the half marathon. That was reflected when Runner's World voted me the most versatile runner of the last 25 years.

As a track runner, when the gun goes if you're not within ten metres of the lead you may as well step off the track. What I saw with the great marathons was that you don't need to be. I looked up 'patience' in the dictionary. I wrote the definition out on a little card which was nailed to the wall. Training for the marathon called for almost isolation. It was about putting money in the bank so you could draw it out later.

Leaving Pennsylvania where I'd trained I realised I was at peace with myself, which hadn't happened before. I'd trained the best I ever had in my life. I felt in control.

On my fingers I put the five, ten, thirteen, eighteen, and twenty three mile splits. That was what I calculated to be my running pace, and I was going to stay with that pace no matter what.
When I looked up after the first mile I knew I was in a rhythm that I was comfortable with, but when I looked ahead the leaders were way up. That was a huge thing, because my instinct told me to be up with them, but common sense told me to be where I was. You've got to have a plan.

When you hit First Avenue there are an estimated one million people down that stretch. It's like being at a rock concert. Looking down the street, which is incredibly long, the runners didn't look that far ahead. So I was comfortable enough to say I'm on target. As we started to get towards the end of First Avenue I thought, hold on, I'm catching (Gidamis) Shahanga, but (Geoff) Smith is getting away. I wasn't concerned, because I knew I had to get to twenty miles as the race effectively doesn't start until then. Then I've got 6.2 miles to go, which is ten kilometres, this is what it's about. All those ten kilometre runs I've done, this is what it comes down to, let's go.

At five miles the road had been very slick. I hit a yellow line divider, slipped, and felt my right hamstring twinge a little. I settled back down again. At 22 miles when I started to pick the pace up I put extra pressure on my body. A couple of times it twinged, so I put pressure on it and broke down the pain.

I started to do the math on how far I was behind Smith. When I went through one of the half mile marks I realised I wasn't going to catch him, so I thought what if he slows down? I decided to see what the next mile produces. Smithy gave me four seconds, and I made up four. I decided to run the tangents, the shortest possible route, and that gave me my three to five seconds per mile. I was thinking in terms of pluses and minuses. Smithy was getting a little wobbly, starting to look back. I knew he was worried about me.

That was good enough for me to say I am the hunter and he is the hunted. As I went through Columbus Circle, there was a grass verge you had to run over. He gingerly stepped over it. I came at full speed and took it low and got off the other side at good speed, and picked up ten or fifteen yards on him just like that. The only way to hit him was to go up to him and try and out kick him, or hit him as hard as I could on the inside. I choose the latter. When he saw me going through at speed, it just destroyed him. I couldn't run any faster and had to back off, but the damage had been done and he had to let go of me. But by just eight seconds.

It was pretty amazing. My predicted time was 2 hours nine minutes. I ran 2 hours 8 minutes and 59 seconds. When I realised I had won the New York City Marathon, something I had dreamed of and trained for, I realised I had done something I should have done in 1976 at the Olympics (when Dixon finished fourth in the 5000 metres), and it just flooded into me. I came across the finish line and I looked to the heavens and said thank you, and kneeled down and kissed the earth. It was total euphoria.

Roone Arledge, of ABC's Worldwide of Sports, said it was the most dramatic finish in ABC Sports history for the last twenty five years. He said it epitomised the ecstacy of the win and the agony of defeat.

(As told to Gavin Bertram)