Breaththroughs, amateurs, and the story of the extraordinary men who ran the four-minute mile

(Note to the reader: I owe the genesis of this essay to four events. A few days ago, I happened to re-watch one of the greatest sports movies ever made “The chariots of fire”, which focused on the life and times of two Olympic athletes. While watching the movie I googled the name Vangelis – the brilliant music composer for the movie – and realized that Vangelis had passed away this May. Who can forget the unforgettable opening sequence of the Chariots of fire which captures a group of English athletes sprinting along the beach in slow motion with waters gently lapping their feet, mud splattering their white fatigues, the faces of the athletes flushed with excitement and fatigue, and in the background, the immortal and hauntingly beautiful Vangelis’s score of synthesized music weaving itself into the tapestry of the scene, with sounds of the piano, drums, and percussions rising and falling with every stride? Soon after the movie, I listened to the entire background score of the movie on my Vinyl player. I had bought this LP a few years ago in Kentucky for 60 dollars in an antique record score. In between all these events, I was reminded of an essay I was made to read in my tenth grade on the four-minute mile run by Roger Bannister, and lastly, it struck me that all these great athletes of the past era were amateurs, for whom, sport was just one part of life. And then this essay wrote itself)

If one were to study the history of breakthroughs in any field, it will be apparent, that all it takes is for one man capable of supreme effort, to break down an established mental or physical barrier, and achieve what is generally thought of as impossible. When such a moment comes, all of a sudden, the triumph, the goal which once seemed so insurmountable, becomes a commonplace achievement, and other competent players start rushing in through the door, often resulting in further breakthroughs in the field in quick succession. Madame Pompadour, the mistress of the French King Louis XV, once famously said,“ Apres’ Moi, le deluge”, which means “After me, the flood”. Though she said this in a slightly different context, the essence applies. Just as an avalanche in a mountain begins with the thawing of a single block of ice, once a human barrier is broken, it becomes relatively easy for others to follow suit. Precedence is set, the mental stranglehold that prevented men from realizing a difficult goal stands removed, and the act falls within the realm of the known and achievable. This is the secret of any creative act, it rips open the lid on hidden possibilities. Another important factor to be considered for a breakthrough to happen is the ability to let go or go beyond our existing mental models. And that is not easy because the mental barriers we erect for ourselves and what we inherit from society are very strong. It needs tremendous daring, an unwavering belief in oneself, relentless effort, and the firm conviction that a breakthrough is possible. Most of us rarely question the truth of the models we live by, never challenge them, and therefore never get a chance to explore the possibilities of the human spirit and body. But every once in a while, there comes a man who challenges the established norms, is willing to make the supreme effort necessary to push the doors open, and recast the boundaries of what is possible. These individuals are heroes, who ask uncomfortable questions, who are willing to go the distance and leave no stone unturned along the way, and who set new peaks for others to climb.

Nowhere is this spirit of accomplishment and breaking barriers more visible than in the world of athletics and sports. The history of athletics is strewn with broken records and near-impossible achievements, especially in the field of running – where time is of the essence. I remember as a tenth grader reading about Roger Bannister in my English textbook, and how he broke the four-minute a-mile barrier, an act that was considered physically impossible for nearly 150 years. There are hundreds, if not thousands of athletes who have run the mile in less than four minutes since that day on May 6th, 1954 when Bannister ran the mile on the Ilfey track in Oxford under gloomy weather conditions to near-empty stands. Bannister ran the mile in 3.59.4 seconds, the first time, any human being had recorded a mile under 4 minutes. It was a staggering achievement if one considers the history of the mile and the quest for the four-minute a mile. There was something about completing a mile under four minutes that aesthetically appealed to and captivated milers for a long time. There was a symmetry to the challenge – Four laps, four-quarter miles, four minutes – which lent it an air of divine ordinance. In 1804, Captain Robert Barclay, a cheerful Scottish landowner, ran the mile in 4.50 minutes, the first recorded time for a mile. By the time the 19th century ended, Walter George, an Englishman, had bettered the time at 4.12.08. To shave off the last twelve seconds would take another 60 years.

Running a mile is quite different from running a hundred meters sprints. In the latter one has to hit top speed in quick time, pouring all the energy one has into a few concentrated seconds, but to run a mile needs well-thought-out technique, careful strategy, and optimal utilization of energy. One should know how to pace oneself across the laps, and when to summon that extra kick, that extra momentum, and mental strength to push oneself when the muscles are nearing exhaustion. Long-distance running is as much an art as it is a science, and requires both speed and endurance. We owe it to the Romans for establishing the measurement of the mile as 1611 yards (1.47 km). In the sixteenth century, the English footmen who hung on to the side of horse carriages as guides, often ran from one milepost to another announcing the arrival of a carriage at the next town or inn. Interestingly, such runners were known as pedestrians. It was around the same time, that the distance of the mile was standardized to 1760 yards (1.61 km), which, incidentally, fit around nicely as four laps circling a football or a cricket field. There were also informal competitions between pedestrians, typically for cash, on who could run the fastest from one from post to another. In this manner, the mile run acquired a distinctive, competitive character to it. The advancement in the accuracy of clocks added the necessary mystery to running the mile in under 4 minutes. The first man to run a mile in 4 minutes and single digits – 4.09 – was the Frenchman Jules Ladoumegue. On a windless, sunny Parisian afternoon, he brought the time to less than 10 seconds of the 4-minute magical mark. From this moment onwards, every second shaved off the running time will require great effort and perseverance from the athlete who desired to break the barrier.

The hunt to break the four-minute a-mile barrier reached its climax between the years 1952 and 1954, when three young men, belonging to three different continents, pursued the dream in their ways. Roger Bannister from England studying to be a doctor, John Landy from Australia, a student of the Agricultural sciences, and Wes Santee, from Kansas City, USA, a farm boy who would go on to become a marine. Amateurs, all three of them. To them, running was a passion, a gripping exercise in discipline and commitment, and they didn’t expect their athletic talents to consume their whole lives and bring them money. They ran because they loved to break records for their own sake, and they loved the feeling, the flow of adrenalin that pushed them to perform better. It is interesting the word Amateur is derived from the Latin root “Amator” – which means to do something for the sheer love of it, as an activity independent of one’s source of income. This idea goes back to Greece when its citizens engaged in physical and cultural activities because they enjoyed doing it, and liked showcasing what they had a talent for, without any monetary expectations. The Olympic Games, established in 766 BC, were a prime example of the esteem in which such amateurs were held. The first event held in the Olympics was a foot race. Koroibos, a cook from the nearby city of Elis, won the two-hundred-yard race on a track along the river Alpheus. For his efforts, he wasn’t given a piece of gold or money, but just a garland made of leaves and twigs (Even today, an Olympic champion only gets a medal and no money). To be called an Amateur was the highest honor during the Renaissance period and up to the first half of the twentieth century. Sir Isaac Newton, and Sir Francis Bacon, for instance, were all amateurs. The Royal science society, which has done so much for the evolution of science, was strictly composed of such Amateur gentlemen, who had no other considerations for getting together, apart from the love of what they were doing. In modern times, however, to be called an amateur is often considered a trifle demeaning. The meaning of the word has morphed into something else. The word now indicates a lack of experience and high-quality skills. We like to be called professionals these days. This word has a ring of success (whatever that means) about it. We typically tell youngsters: “grow from an amateur level to a professional”. In other words, don’t waste your energy and time doing something for the sheer love of it, monetize your talent, and make money. This is a complete corruption of a beautiful idea, and I think, and I am sure many of my readers will agree, that the world could do with many more amateurs and fewer professionals.

Coming back to Bannister, Landy, and Wes, the crushing defeats at the Helsinki taught each runner valuable lessons. They had a few more years to run, and each devoted the time they had left to work out a strategy to break the mile record. It became their overwhelming passion and drive. Each country wanted their man to be the first to do it, but between the three, personally, they had great respect for each other. Bannister’s approach to the training was scientific. Studying to be a doctor, he understood better than anybody else the biological underpinnings of physical endurance. In those early days, when athletics was not dominated by machines and scientific counsels, Bannister preferred to base his training on the demands the body made on distance runners. He erected his fitness contraptions, tested himself and other volunteers on the impact of oxygen intake on stamina and muscle fatigue, and worked to reduce his running time microsecond by microsecond. For the most part, Bannister preferred working alone, without a coach, until he found someone in 1953, whom he could unconditionally trust. Between his daily schedule at the hospital, and the classes, he would find one hour during lunch to run his 10 laps before showering and returning to the hospital to care for his patients. Landy, on the other hand, was a natural sprinter and considered one of the most elegant runners ever: High knee action, rhythmic hand movement, steady head and a stable center of gravity, and a perfect running stride – were his hallmarks. Landy was a bookworm. When he wasn’t running, he would curl around with a book. Wes, the typical American, was a naturally gifted runner, but erratic. Unlike the other two, Wes has a less than ideal childhood, and if not for his college Coach, Easton, his friend, philosopher, and guide, Wes’s talent for running would never have blossomed.

On May 6th, 1954, Roger Bannister ran the mile at 3.59.4. Not many spectators were there that day to cheer him up, and an hour before the race, the race was almost canceled due to bad weather conditions. The track was wet, and the conditions were not ideal for Bannister. But, he was in great shape – mentally and physically. It didn’t matter how the track was, Bannister knew this was his best opportunity to break the mile record. His body and mind were in that zone of readiness to meet the challenge. He ran a perfect mile, he brought to bear all those endless hours of practice and training he had put in over the last two years, since the defeat at the Helsinki games. The moment was just right for the mile to be conquered. For those who witnessed Bannister’s sprint that day, it was simply unforgettable, how he paced himself, the speed at which he ran the first three laps, his austere strides, and the remarkable acceleration in the final 150 yards. When his chest pushed against the finishing ropes, time stopped, and the high precision, expensive, Omega clocks that were making their way into professional sports, registered a number less than four minutes. The human body and spirit had triumphed – the barrier stood breached.

Forty-six days after Bannister broke the time barrier, Landy bettered the time at a race in Finland. Landy ran the mile at 3.58 minutes, a staggering 1.5 seconds less than Bannister’s. The dam had burst, and flood gates were open. Taking one second of a sprint takes years of preparation, but here, in eight weeks, Landy had obliterated Bannister’s great achievement in terms of time. Bannister had banished the mental demons that held sway for decades, cleared the air, and Landy, perhaps with a little less mental pressure of not being the first one to break the barrier, was able to give it his all and cross the finishing line well under four minutes. By the time the year reached its end, three more runners would do it under four minutes. That mysterious threshold of four minutes was no longer a mysterious wall, it was torn down. New frontiers had to be set.

Now that the time barrier was behind them, it was time to decide who was the best miler of the two – Bannister or Landy. Pitched against each other, who will win the race? The showdown happened at the Empire games in Vancouver, in August 1954. Both the runners hadn’t met since the Helsinki games, and this mile race featuring Bannister and Landy was slated and advertised as the mega event of the games. Millions were expected to watch the race through the new medium of Television broadcasts – which was beginning to take over from the traditional radio commentary. Wes Santee was the commentator for NBC in America, a position he would have willingly traded with anyone else, to be on the track running alongside Bannister and Landy. But that was not to be. Television sets were making their way into Western households, and the world of sports itself was on the cusp of a massive change – a transition from amateur sports to professionals. Landy and Bannister, both, knew this would one of the final races of their athletic lives? The race didn’t disappoint. Landy, in his typical style, burst into an extraordinary pace from the start and led the race all the way with Bannister behind him by several yards. In the fourth lap, with about 150 yards to go Bannister’s stepped up the gear, and Landy could see the shadow of Bannister lengthening in front of him as he inched closer to the Australian. In the final stretch, Bannister ran past the tiring legs of Landy and cross the finishing line with Landy following him. Both men clocked under four minutes. In a span of 60 days, the four-minute a-mile barrier was broken four times collectively by these two outstanding athletes. The barrier was no more a mirage.

For this Herculean effort, neither did Bannister nor Landy receive any financial support or remuneration. Within a couple of years of this extraordinary performance, both of them retired from athletics and focused on their careers. They did exceedingly well. Landy went on to join ICI as a rural scientist, served on the Melbourne Olympic committee, led the Australian drug task force, wrote a couple of books on natural history, and in 2000 was appointed the Governor of Victoria. Landy passed away in Feb 2022 at 92 years. Bannister had the best 112 days of his life between May and Aug of 1954. During that period, he graduated from medical school, courted his future wife, passed the medical board exams, broke the four-minute a mile barrier twice, and won his residency as a doctor. It is unimaginable for a modern-day athlete to pack so many life-changing events into so short a span of time. Bannister worked as a neurologist after his retirement, built recreational centers throughout the country, evangelized the need to keep the sport from the influence of performance-enhancing drugs, was knighted in 1975 for his services, and wrote a wonderful book about the art of running. Roger Bannister died in 2018 just shy of ninety.

These men epitomized the best traditions of a bygone age, when honor, effort, passion, discipline, and a broader range of interests were considered the hallmarks of a good life lived. Absolutely scandal-free, they loved the life of the mind and the body with equal vigor. One nourished the other. John Landy summed it up the best when he told Neal Ascomb (the author of the brilliant book “The perfect mile” which chronicled the extraordinary achievements of Bannister, Landy, and Wes) “Running gave me the discipline and the self-expressions I needed. It teaches you the ability to be present under pressure. It teaches you the importance of being enthusiastic, dedicated and focused”.

These are timeless life lessons for anyone in any field, anytime.