New Steve Prefontaine biography reveals man behind mythic distance runner
'The Front Runner' a testament to appeal of athlete who believe in purity of maximum effort
The late American distance runner Steve Prefontaine never won an Olympic medal, a world championship, or even held a world record. Yet, half a century after his untimely death in a car wreck at the age of 24, "Pre," as he came to be known, remains an iconic, almost saint-like figure, of track and field.
Many would argue that Prefontaine is regarded as the most charismatic runner of all-time, often credited with igniting the worldwide running boom of the 1970's, not to mention being the first face of the multi-billion dollar Nike brand of athletic gear.
In a new biography, "The Front Runner - The Life of Steve Prefontaine," author Brendan O'Meara re-examines his legacy on the cusp of the 50th anniversary of the international athletics gathering that bears his name. This year's "Pre Classic" at Hayward Field in Eugene, Ore., will feature more than 20 Olympic gold medallists and countless world champions. It is one of, if not the most, star-studded fields in the history of professional track and field outside an Olympic Games.
O'Meara suggests that, in many ways, the annual pilgrimage of these outstanding, runners, jumpers, and throwers from every corner of the world, to a small, university city in the Pacific Northwest of the United States, is one of Prefontaine's greatest contributions to the sport.
A local hero from the coastal logging town of Coos Bay, Prefontaine once held every American record from 2,000 to 10,000 metres. And he set many of those records and won most of his important races at the University of Oregon's fabled track at Hayward Field.
He was idolized as a child prodigy from a rough and tumble background who was outspoken and had the audacity to take on the best in the world while defying them to race flat out instead of languishing in the rear and concocting last-minute, or contrived, victories.
He was, as O'Meara explains, the quintessential front runner from an athletic perspective.
In the biggest race Prefontaine ever took on, the Olympic 5,000m final at the 1972 Munich Games, he was by far the smallest and youngest contestant in the field. And yet, the confident and brash American was undaunted, leading into the final lap while duelling magnificently with the likes of the statuesque Finn, Lasse Viren, who eventually won the gold medal, and 1968 Olympic champion Mohammed Gammoudi of Tunisia who claimed silver.
Prefontaine, totally spent, ran out of gas over the last few metres and was narrowly beaten for the bronze medal by Great Britain's hard charging Ian Stewart. Distraught, Prefontaine bowed his head, removed his spikes, and walked barefoot off the track in front of the astonished fans in the jam-packed stadium.
For many people of a certain generation, it was a vivid and lasting first recollection of the crucible of Olympic competition.
Prefontaine was the upstart kid with the flowing blond hair who came so close to knocking off the Goliaths from afar. He presented the teasing promise of the thrill of victory which gave way to the reality of a fourth-place finish and the agony of defeat.
O'Meara chronicles Prefontaine's life based on more than 150 interviews with teammates, friends, and rivals who knew the enigmatic high school and collegiate phenom. And while there is a certain mythology surrounding "Pre" and his faithful followers known as "Pre's People," O'Meara gives his subject a human quality which is more decipherable.
Referring to him as "Steve" throughout, the author discovers that behind the bravado was a sensitive young man who was most comfortable in familiar surroundings and often wrestled with self–doubt. Moreover, Prefontaine is portrayed as less of a philosopher king and more likely driven by a simpler set of principles — he wanted to run hard and fast and compete against the best in the world on his own terms, not to mention his home turf.
There are also stories of Prefontaine being a practical joker, a wild and crazy driver of sports cars, and a prodigious guzzler of beer. The way O'Meara tells it, Prefontaine revelled in the attention of his fans, but he might have foregone future fame and fortune for a more modest life, which included owning and operating his dream bar called "The Sub Four," in reference to his achievement of running a sub four-minute mile.
In fact, Prefontaine did resist offers of lucrative contracts from the blossoming professional International Track Association (ITA), choosing instead to protect his amateur status and pursue his dream of winning an Olympic title in Montreal in 1976 against the best competition from around the world.
While it is true, as O'Meara acknowledges, that Prefontaine fought for athlete self-determination and freedom from the restrictive bonds of the Amateur Athletic Union (AAU), he did it not out of a desire for personal financial gain but instead to have the opportunity to race against the premier athletes in the sport at the most opportune times.
In this sense, Prefontaine was not only a front runner he was a forerunner in a world where athletes would eventually have greater control over their own destinies. In short "Pre" was an idealist who was well ahead of his time.
His death came after midnight on May 30,1975 following the final track meet in Eugene of what was known as "The Finn Tour." It was an invitational series of events run on a shoestring budget that Prefontaine envisioned and organized. It gave the hometown hero a chance to take on world-class, European rivals before his faithful supporters.
He won that last race over 5,000 metres at Hayward Field, serving notice to the local fans that the possibilities were endless for this young man who hailed from their own backyard and that the gold medal at the Montreal Olympics was most certainly within reach.
At the end of the telling of Prefontaine's story, the author concludes that his subject was uncompromising in his self belief while reflecting the hopes and aspirations of his many disciples.
"Steve would often express, especially as his career began to take off, how running was a means of personal discovery," O'Meara writes in the last paragraphs. "As he broke the tape, the people roared once more, and the shadows lengthened over the track. Steve aglow by the setting of the sun."
In the final analysis, "The Front Runner," is a testament to the enduring appeal of an athlete who believed mightily in the purity of maximum effort.
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