Frank Shorter's Story

By Frank Shorter

At age eleven, three or four days a week, I started to run the 2 1/2 miles to and from school in my hometown of Middletown, New York. I wanted to be a downhill ski racer and had read that some Olympic skiers of that era ran in the off-season. At the time, sneakers were not allowed in the classroom, but I convinced the principal to let me wear some low-cuts I had specially modified because I was “training.” I also persuaded the Phys Ed teacher to let me run solo laps around the playing field during gym class. I must have come across as down right serious.

I discovered I simply enjoyed the feeling of running. It felt smooth and was easier and more relaxing than walking. I loved how the air flowed through my hair. My mind would wonder as I jogged along, knowing I would get there because the route was so familiar. Away from school, I ran to and from baseball practice and the mile or so home from my friends' houses. Sneakers, loafers or sandals - it didn’t matter. The goal of ski racing gave me a reason to run, but even then I knew it was more than that, and it never seemed odd to me that I was the only person in town running the sidewalks.

At age 15 I started organized training at my prep school, Northfield Mount Hermon, in Massachusetts. I went out for Cross Country and immediately made the team. At the end of my junior year I finished fifth in the New England Prep School Championships. My senior year, I set course records across the league. Even then my goal was not to win, but to train as hard as I could, and then see what the result would be. I was finding out about myself, not testing or evaluating.

Running had evolved into a goal-setting sport for me, but I was happiest while training in the woods surrounding the campus. I would actually sometimes sneak off and run on my own: doubling workouts in high school because I simply enjoyed being out there, alone with my thoughts. Now I know it was stress release from academics. Having found out I could focus, train for running and study well at the secondary school level, I decided to continue on to college. However, collegiate championships were not on my mind; I was going to be a doctor.

At Yale I was fortunate and had a coach, Robert Giegengack, who taught me how to train myself through the Socratic method. For three years I competed and was reasonably successful, but it was not until the end of my senior year that I refocused on running, and my improvement curve took off. I graduated in June, won the NCAA 6-mile (10,000m) championship and finished second in the 3-mile (5,000m). Suddenly, I was national class. Soon after I dropped out of medical school and decided to try to make the Olympic team in the 10,000m.

I have always enjoyed training as much or more than competing. This trait combined with the fact that I can train consistently and at a high level of intensity for years on end put me on the path to the 1972 Munich Olympic Marathon. I went to Law school and averaged 20 miles of training a day. Now Constitutional Law was the stress release from intense interval training. The primary and secondary career goals had been reversed, and it worked; I won.

I will admit that on the victory podium during the National Anthem I felt Nationalistic. At that time Americans were not considered a people who could endure. The gifted Africans, stoic Northern Europeans or hardened Cross Country runners of England - these were the distance runners. However three Americans had just finished in the top ten in the Olympic Marathon, and I had won by over 2 minutes.

After the National Anthem was played, I thought, "Where do I go from here?” My instincts said "let things settle down," so over the next three years I finished law school and passed the Colorado Bar exam. I also decided to try to go back to the 1976 Montreal Olympics. Why? Because I was still improving and simply enjoyed training too much to get on with the rest of my life. In Montreal I trained harder and better, ran faster and finished second to an East German. But I was still not ready to pursue the traditional American dream.

So I simply decided to stay as close to my sport as I could. But there was one simple dilemma: at that time you could not earn a living as a runner. So I decided to reframe the problem and create my own way of earning a living. I opened some retail sports stores and started a clothing company, both under my name. Next, two friends, Bob Stone, a lawyer, and Steve Bosley, a banker, and I created the trust fund for amateur athletes. This allowed US athletes to win money and put it in an individual trust, getting out enough to put them on an equal financial level with the state-subsidized Eastern European athletes of the day. Now, there is prize money in every Olympic sport.

More recently, a window opened in Washington to begin the process of leveling the playing field and giving back the competitive advantage to the World's athletes who, for over thirty years, had chosen to not use performance-enhancing drugs. I worked with President Clinton's Drug Czar, General Barry McCaffrey, to form USADA (The United States Anti Doping Agency) in 2000. For three years I was Chairman and I am still their National spokesman.

I do not really know when I stopped being an elite athlete; it just happened. Now, I am running for the same reasons that set me off to school when I was 11. I am incredibly fortunate to have been very good at something I have always enjoyed doing. It makes sense that I would make a career out of it, and still be out there letting my mind wonder.