Ageless Wonder

How did Ed Whitlock manage a world record, sub-three-hour marathon at 73?
By running three hours a day, seven days a week in a cemetery.

Ed Whitlock defies both aging and logic. The wiry, retired engineer from Milton, Ontario has posted marathon times men less than half his age can only dream of. Whitlock was the first person over 70 to run a sub-three-hour marathon. At 73, he turned in an age-group world record of 2:54:48. And at 76 he ran 3:04:53.

Whitlock seems to taunt death, not to mention tedium, by circling a cemetery dozens of times a day in his long training runs. He gets no runner's high, only a quiet satisfaction from smashing record after record. Now a spry 77, and despite a knee injury that has kept him out of competition for almost a year, he's determined to come back and run - and break some records - in his 80s.

In school and university, I was considered to be one of the better junior runners in England at the time. I was a much better runner when I was in school than when I went to university. Somehow it kind of leaked away then. I was never as good at university.

So when I came to Canada in 1952, I wasn't that upset to give it up. I didn't run again until I moved down to Toronto in 1955. I tried to start, and was appalled by how bad I was. So I never started really running again until I was over 40, and I've run continuously since then.

When I started running again in my 40s, I was a middle-distance runner. It was only when I got to my 60s that I became a long-distance runner. In my 40s, I ran mostly the 800 and 1500 metres. In 1979, at the World Masters in Hanover, I won the 1500 for men aged 45 and up. Then I got busy at work. That was my excuse. And I didn't do too much serious competitive running in my 50s.

I did my first marathon in 1976 with my youngest son, who was 14 at the time. I didn't run a serious marathon until 1979. I ran Ottawa. That was where I did my best time I ever did: 2:31 and change. It wasn't bad for a middle-distance runner who was pushing up the age group by then. I was 48, so I was getting old.

I'm not really sure how many marathons I've done, but it's around 35. I haven't done a huge number. I'm only averaging about one a year since I started doing them.

Chasing the record

When I was 65, I first ran the Columbus Marathon. I went down there for the next four years - each time I was well under three hours. When I was about 67 or 68, I had this idea that I could do one when I was 70 and that was an objective worth going for. I ran Columbus when I was 69 and I did 2:54 that year. But I was pretty beaten up at the finish of that thing. It wasn't that great a performance, but I was still pretty confident.

The following spring I went down to London, Ontario and I was pretty confident that I was going to do sub-three. I ended up 24 seconds over three hours - about half a minute under the previous world record. I knew at the half-way point that it probably wasn't going to be there. I was kind of surprised that in the end I came as close as I did - it was disappointing to say the least. Later that summer, my left knee started to hurt and I was basically off running for a year. So I didn't run another marathon until I was 72, when I ran the Toronto Waterfront Marathon, two-and-a-half years later.

The way things were going, I was reasonably confident that I had a good chance of doing it. But I was walking over to the mall and I was walking along quite briskly - this was six days before the marathon - and I managed to do a face plant on the sidewalk. I found out afterwards that I broke my nose. I had two black eyes and all kinds of abrasions all over my face - it wasn't a pretty sight. I ran the thing anyway, although I was getting a lot of advice that I shouldn't try it. I was ahead of the three-hour pace all the way until I really began to have difficulties just after 35k. It was a real struggle to get home; fortunately I got in with a little group of runners that helped me along. I stayed with this group, grimly hanging on, until about 40 or 41. And one guy stayed with me and shepherded me home.

The photographs of me finishing are not pretty. I had all these facial disfigurements for one thing, and I was showing obvious distress apart from that. I was leaning over to one side, but I made it with just over a minute to spare. So that was a tough race. I was happy to have got it done, but I was still embarrassed about the way I finished and the way I looked. It was a feeling more of relief than elation.

The following year I ran an absolutely marvelous race. I wish I knew how you could do that all the time - it would be nice to be able to bottle it. It was kind of a magic summer - I ran a great 10k two weeks before and a great marathon, in 2:54:50. I finished in great shape, I wasn't in any distress.

Round and round the cemetery

My marathon training program is to run every day, three hours a day. I run a third of a mile loop over and over, around a cemetery.

Absolutely, it gets boring. But for me, it has some advantages. It's just 200 yards from here. You're never far from home. It's particularly advantageous in the winter. You don't run against the wind for any length of time, and they clear the road. In the summer, most of it's in the shade. I don't do most of the things the books say you should do. I don't know that it would work for everybody. But I think it's a truism as far as marathons are concerned that the more running you do, the more total volume you can handle, the better.

Particularly for the last two months before the marathon, I try to run every day and try and run three hours. I don't measure how far I go in three hours, I purposely don't do that. I don't get psyched out by how good or how bad I'm running that day. I just run around and put in the time. I try to get lots of these three-hour runs in before the marathon and then I like to run a 10k a couple of weeks before. From that I can judge what pace I can do for the marathon.

The following week, I keep doing the three hours. I run long on the Sunday and the Monday before the marathon. After that, I taper back down to run maybe an hour a day. I normally keep track of my pre-marathon build-up starting about 20 weeks before the marathon. The more I can do the better.

I never claim that's what everybody ought to do, but it works for me. Everybody has to find what works for them. Consider how much time you have to waste on this, and whether your wife will put up with it. It would be very difficult for me to do that if I weren't retired.

I find it kind of vaguely amusing to see the people who carry around the belt full of bottles and need all the latest gizmos. There not really on the same wavelength as me. I don't believe in the "how to run your best 5k in 10 weeks." I think that's all magic potions.

I don't take water out with me. I just bring a watch to see when the time is up. I don't perspire as much as most people do. In a race, I do drink, depending on conditions.

I never give advice. The only advice I would have is to find out what's best for them. Get your enjoyment the way you like. Some people like to not push themselves too hard and that's fine. Some people are in it for competitive reasons and that's fine, too.

How does he do it?
Even he's not sure…

I suppose a large part of why I was able to do it is genetics. I suspect that's more than 90 per cent of it. I'm naturally light, I have good mechanics. I don't pound as much as most people would do. You do have to adapt. One of the reasons I stopped being a middle-distance runner is because my Achilles tended to complain when I did interval work.

When I started running again, I never had any particular thought that I was going to stop. It's the same thing now. Do I have any thoughts that I'll be running in my 90s? Yeah. I'll run as long as I can. Whether I'll be able to get going again now or not, I don't know. You don't know what's going to happen tomorrow.

I'd just like to keep running, mainly. That's what I'd like to do. And set some 80-year-old records, maybe. They're well within reach if I could keep running.

The quiet satisfaction of a chore

Everyone is egotistical to some extent. I suppose I take a slight degree of quiet satisfaction I suppose.

I doubt I could run for my health. I'm too lazy for that. I need more incentive than that. I don't think records are a necessary part of it. Just to be able to compete is enough. Other people say: Why do you always run by yourself? Why don't you run a group? The disadvantage of running with a group is that you're either running slower than you should be or faster, one of the two. Doing my own thing, I can run just how I feel.

I don't particularly enjoy running around the cemetery when it's too damn cold or too damn hot. I like going to races, being part of the scene, talking to the other people. But I don't get any runner's high or any particular enjoyment out of running around the cemetery. This is a chore.