The Dollop with Dave Anthony and Gareth Reynolds - 177 - Jock and The Boston Marathon Women

Episode Date: May 29, 2016

Dave Anthony and Gareth Reynolds examine, Jock Semple, Katherine Switzer, Bobbi Gibb and The Boston Marathon. SOURCESTOUR DATES REDBUBBLE MERCH

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October 26th, 1903. Jock Semple was born in Glasgow, Scotland. Oh, light one here. What's the name? What? Jock. Jock. Jock. Jock. When he was 14 he landed a job working nine hour days at the Singer Sewing Machine Plant in Clydebank. Okay, looking up. Yeah, sure. He ran his first track race which was in the factory TrackMeat. Okay. You mean it was, it wasn't in meat. It was, I'll stop. It was not a meat factory. Okay. Regular factory. Right. It's an actual TrackMeat. Right. Just TrackMeat in the factory. All right. Yeah. Go racing. He wore a bathing suit. Of course

I bloody did. Gonna get soaking. Pool party. And in front of a crowd of 2,000 he ran to victory in the 100 yard dash. The fact that he, how like, how could you watch? I don't, just the idea of watching races is just, it's far gone. They didn't have much then. No. And that's, that's a testament. The crowd cheered, Big Semple. He was already 5'8", which was apparently pretty large for Scotland. And since he was only 14 he became known as a big Semple of Clydebank from then on. Big what? Semple. S-E-M-P-L-E. Okay. Semple. Okay. Big Semple. Jock had a terrible case of asthma, but he discovered that 5 mile. I'm bloody, God,

I'm bloody, God, I'm bloody. He discovered that 5 mile cross country races improved his condition. Of course I would. Bloody saints, hadn't I? And they were good for his social life. Quote. I should, I should let you read this. Okay. This is the second paragraph. This is where I find out I can't read. Second paragraph. Uh, wait, oh, where? Right where it says they. Okay. They were a social outing too. We used to start from the public bass and run through the plowed fields over ditches and dykes through streams that were swollen up to your knees. Oh, it was grand being out there in the fresh

air every Saturday. And sometimes the more prosperous area clubs had a clubhouse and they'd have a cup of tea and a couple of cakes waiting when you come in. I don't think he made the right choice. Runnin' for sandwiches. Basically. Bloody, it doesn't take much. Uh, because times were hard in Scotland, his father pushed him to leave and he did. Boy, go. Get out. Run. Christ, son. Honey. Get the fuck out. I'm fuckin' hate ya. Good luck. He went to the U.S. when he was 19 years old. He lived seven years in Philadelphia working as a carpenter in the shipyards and in the construction industry. His brother lived in

Boston and when their mother came for a visit in 1930, Jock decided to see her hitchhiking up. While he was there, he entered the Boston Marathon. You're listening to Racing Week on the Dollars. Yeah, really. Oh, yeah. Well, you don't know it, but you're in Racing Week. These are call-aheads. To his surprise, about halfway through the race, he was near the head of the pack. Bloody hell. He was running along with the top runners at the time. Six-time winner Clarence DeMar, known as Mr. DeMarathon. You're living in the era of the worst nicknames. DeMarathon. John C. Miles, the Nova Scotian. He's got to have a nickname, too, right?

He must have, but I mean, Miles. Hey, Miles, you're in a mile. Hey, Miles. Let's just call him Miles. No, no, no. Hey. Yeah, let's just stick with Miles. Yeah, now that I'm actually at the edge. Miles works. There were two Finns, Willie Kryanin and Carl Koski. Jock passed the great Hinky Heinegan and moved into eighth place. Take care, Hinky. College girls cheered him on. Oh, he was living the greatest moment of his life. Jock finished seventh and his mom was waiting for him at the finish line. Oh, Jock, I'm so bloody paid. He was hooked and decided to stay in Boston. Okay. He got a job as a locker room boy for $11 a week. That's a shit pay. Yeah, just suck it. What? Just suck. Oh, sorry. Here's my towel.

He would never finish as high as seventh again, but he ran in the marathon each year. He thought it was a privilege to one with run with runners that he described as dedicated. Okay. When World War Two came, Jock tried to sign up, but a Navy Corp'sman told him he couldn't because he had flat feet. Wow. That's who cares. Jock. It's like in the army today. What I mean, what? Oh, God. Fuck it. I mean, you're put him in heels. Get him out there. Your fucking liver could be on the outside and he'd be like, get out and get going. Here. We'll put camo on it. Jock yelled, quote. What the hell are you talking about? That's Irish. That's okay. It was okay. Maybe. What the hell are you talking about? These feet cover 3,500 miles a

year. But it's true. I mean, how does it like, how are they not like your feet are too flat? You wouldn't be able to make it. Motherfucker, all I do is run. The Navy then reversed their decision. Okay. All right. After the war, Jock used the GI Bill to get a diploma in 1947 from the Massachusetts School of Physiotherapy and started working at the Boston Garden in a small office. There he gave massages to businessmen and ended up working for 18 years as the trainer for visiting NBA teams. Okay. It would sit on the visitor's bench and sometimes chase children off the floor or shout at a rude fan. Keep quiet. Get out of here, kiddies. Jock ran in the Boston Marathon for years, but after the 1949 race at age 46, he decided his responsibilities

as a marathon official hampered proper training. Okay. Right. So now he's working for the marathon. Right. Doing the business. At 9 a.m. every morning, Jock would head down a corner in an office building annexed to the Boston Garden where the Celtics played. He had a small office room, crammed with desks, filing cabinets and hundreds of dusty trophies. In the back was another room with three rubbed down tables, a whirlpool and heat lamps, a steam cabinet and a shower. This was known as the Salon des Slabs. Okay. As the years passed, word spread through Boston. If you wanted to cure a hangover, the way to do it was to go to the Salon des Slabs for the works. Okay. Which was time in the sauna. Then a whirlpool and a rub down. And at the end,

Jock would crack your neck. It's all right. Right. Take a deep breath in. There you are. Who's dead? It's just killing him. Oh Christ, I'll get it right someday. There's a fucking hangover. Put him in the pile. I can't hear you. You don't have a bloody hangover anymore, do you, me? Yeah. Go ahead. In the dumpster with you. After a while, pro and college athletes started coming to Jock whenever their trainers couldn't fix their issues. He should have called this place a shock strap. Oh, fuck. I mean, I mean, maybe, maybe too much for the time, but a great. I'm too much for the time. I hear you. You still are. You always will be. Yeah, you're a bit more. Well, I, yeah. Right. Okay. I just want to make sure someday. You're a lot. This is getting a little

too real. I'd like to get back on topic, please. So yeah, so these pro guys and these college guys would come without telling their coaches or their trainers who weren't doing the job because Jock was like the fucking man. They had like some side action. Yeah, he was like the side action guy. DL, Jock's the DL. And then like he goes to like the regular trainers and he's like, boy, your back sure is loose today. Did you do anything? No, I mean, I did a little stretching at home, but nothing professional. Yeah, I'm not in good enough. I wasn't at the, uh, no. Kind of, uh, smell like, uh, chlorine. I was out of, I took chlorine pills for fever. Oh, okay. All right. Well, let me just crack your neck and then we'll get you out of here. No.

What? It's cracked. I cracked. My mom cracked it. Your mom will not like a professional. Let me get my hands on my mom's a professional neck cracker. She works for the ballet. If you were, if you were going to another trainer, you would have the respect to tell me, right? Yeah, I would never lie to you. You wouldn't lead me on. And I would jock. No. Sorry, what? I didn't say it works. Okay. Okay. I love you. You're my favorite trainer. I love you too. Come here. He didn't make much money. You little bitch. No, hey, get in here. He didn't make much money and barely got by. This might be why he worked seven days a week, but money didn't mean much to jock. What he really cared about was the Boston marathon. Okay.

Quote. He's adorable. He's like a kid who like loves a character at Disney. Right? Oh, bloody love my marathon. I love it. Johnny, need my sleep, marathon's a month away. Quote. To me, it's sacred. I know what it is to train for it and to suffer. Hey. On marathon day, he'd be up at six AM. Oh, bloody excited. It's my big day. It's Christmas. These are my bloody Christmas. Barely slept. He'd pass out checkpoint signs and then he'd heard the runners into buses to take them to the starting pen. Sorry, these are runners or cattle? Yes. Okay. He'd always find some stowaways who weren't registered. Oh, yeah, bomb out, out, out. Yeah, that would be I'm getting caught by a Scotsman as a stowaway runner. The nerves. The best thing ever. Oi, I see a bloody

shoelace. Come out from under there. He was constantly phoned by wannabe runners to ask about how he could, how they could get into the marathon. He was not always nice. Shocking. As one reporter witnessed. Quote. Oh boy. One thing you just might do, Jock shouts into the phone, is try running 26 miles and see if you can. Oh, you know you can, do you? Well, then tell me what kind of time you're planning to do the marathon in. Jock's face goes red. Well, forget the whole thing because you're not worthy of the event. And we don't want to hear anymore of your crap. Jock slams down receiver, nearly breaking it in two. That was a reporter who witnessed that. So what are you going to do the story about? Well, I think I've got an angle.

He hated these guys who didn't take the race seriously. These screwballs. Oh, dude. Sorry, I just said these screwballs. These weirdies. These MIT boys, these tough characters, these average guys, they write me asking, should they put on spiked shoes for a marathon? He was happy to help the dedicated who took training seriously, but the ones he called smart, smart Alex and fat souls. Well, he would quickly lose his shit just thinking about them. Quote. Port Bailey's. Port Bailey's. You should see him. Some of them took six hours to run the course. I once walked it in four and a half. Oh, man, I was going to print you out pages to read, but I would just want to know if I booked the part. I didn't have enough time. So funny. Jock and the others running the marathon

considered to be the second biggest sport and others running, not running. Right. The guys who are in charge of it. The guy's running the race racing in it. Right. No, not the guys racing in it. The guy's running it. It was not first. Okay. By the way, I could have done that for 40 more minutes. I know. I know. It considered to be the second biggest sporting event in the world just behind the Olympics. And now it was being filled with assholes running about treating it with disrespect. Oh, boy. I know somebody's not going to be happy about that. The event field on the day was now filled with juggers and oddballs. They were college freshmen running as part of fraternity hazing. Big fat men. It shouldn't be walking 10 blocks. Drunks from bars

who had made a bet. Just tons of guys who weren't serious and Jock couldn't handle it. These bloody drunk college children just doing it to pledge a bloody fraternity. I will have my day. I will have my day. Oh, sorry. Is that door open? Oh, I just got a little brave heart. Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to. But the operator is still trudged on and treated it with respect. Jovey's and metals were given to the first 35 finishers and everyone would get a cup of beef stew, a cupcake and a glass of milk at the end. Oh, I mean, I'm sure you're hungry. Just doesn't sound like what you're craving necessarily. I can't wait to finish and have some stew and milk. Oh, oh, it's all worth it now. Oh, gosh. Oh, boy, I'll tell you what. I don't want water. Oh, milk is really I'm sorry.

I think a cake is forming in my throat. I'm gonna be a cup of thick beef water. Is there any way to get a milkshake? Red Arbok, who worked in the garden, yeah, who ran the Celtics couldn't understand it. Quote, I followed them into the hotel once. I was curious to have a look figuring they'd have a special chef behind a great big pile of steaming stew. Well, they're pouring it out of cans. It was canned beef stew. It was goddamn canned beef stew. I couldn't believe it. It really, I mean, that really tells you about the difference in times, too. Totally like cans now is kind of fancy. Boston A. A amateur, like meat director, Will Cloney, countered that it wasn't just any canned stew. It was Dinty Moore stew. Mr. Quote, Bart Starr says the Green Bay Packers train on Dinty

Moore. God damn right they do. But in 1965, the finish line was moved. Can we talk about the Packers more? In 1965, the finish line was moved. And after that, the runners got homemade stew in the Employees' Cafeteria at Prudential Tower. Okay. All right. Well, shut your face, Red Hourback. Yeah. If it wasn't Cloney setting the record straight, Jock would have. He didn't like people laughing at the marathon. He didn't want... He's just like a weird guy who like thinks he has a connection to birds. I respect it. Hey, the birds are my only real friends. They understand me the way humans couldn't. I love you, Boston Marathon. You're my everything. You're just my girl. I have proposed to raise enough money to put the vagina on the Boston Marathon so I may consummate my love.

Time! Time out! Dude, is there... Can we do a time out? Well, I can do whatever I like. We would not like to do that. I think if there's a way to just get a vagina on it, it's not... It's a marathon. I want to fuck the marathon. Right, but it's not a thing. I need it. I've already finished it. Now I want to finish inside of it. Okay. What? Jock, we're going to send you to this little home up the street. Oh, I like homes. It's for special people. I'm very special. Yep, and you'll stay there in a little jacket. Oh, I like jackets too. And hopefully I can meet Mrs. Boston Marathon up there for a little confirmation. Bit of the old in-out, in-out. You know what I mean? Yummy. Oh, I feel a little bit sick. Had some dinty moir. He didn't want the thing he believed in

so much being mocked, which is why he probably took some fairly rash actions. Scotland could be called rash actions. It is just like even like Scottish people see mad when they're not mad, and when they're mad, you're like, what the fuck is this level? My uncle one time freaked out when my cousin dropped a jar of pickles and they smashed. You would have thought that she like kicked a Monet. That is a Scottish Monet. He was, it was like, dude, we'll go buy more. He's like, that's bloody ridiculous. They're bloody ruined. I was like, they're fucking, they're cucumbers and vinegar, sir. That's amazing. When one runner wore an uncle Sam's outfit and carried it. Oh, no, he did. For storm windows on his back. Wait, what about windows? He had an ad for storm windows

on his back. Jock ran up beside him carrying a tray in one hand. Oh boy. It was full of cups of water. As jock, as jock matched uncle Sam stride for stride, he would pick up a cup of water and throw it in the runner's face. Oh, to be watching that part of it. What is happening? How is that not on film? Let him drink it. I don't think you're doing it. Let him drink it. Oh, you got any storm windows on your bloody face. Maybe put a storm window in your stupid uncle Sam head. On a rainy day in the 1957 marathon, as it passed through Framingham, jock saw a runner wearing an underwater mask with a snorkel and webbed a snorkeler's shoes. Oh boy. Just to watch the red. Like a cartoon, like Yosemite Sam, like just steam coming out. Redder than our back.

He charged the snorkeler. I mean, right away, just imagining a Scottish man in love with a marathon chasing a land snorkeler. Like he must be him processing it. Oh, fuck. He charged the snorkeler and attempted to make a flying tackle. But the snorkeler jumped out of the way and jock missed and he landed face down in a gutter full of water. The Framingham police wanted to arrest jock for attempted assault, but other race officials were able to talk them down. No, you don't understand. He's just crazy about the race. He just really likes the race. He's crazy about the race. You know how you love your children? Yeah. His race or the race is his children. That's interesting. He has. Well, no, I shouldn't say.

No, they're not his children because he wants to have sex with the race. Officer, is that a problem? Yeah, we're just talking about how much you like the race. Oh, well, you know, we're talking next year about installing a vagina. Okay, we're gonna actually. We're gonna put it right towards the end. Yeah, we're gonna. Then as the runners go around. All right, sir, stop talking. I'll be finishing this. Hey, you have the right to remain silent. I choose to wear that. I beg you. I love it. I love my marathon. In the 1961 marathon marathon, two runners were neck and neck in the lead. When a black dog started nipping at one of their heels,

then tripped him. Jock lost it. He ran over and tried to kick the dog but missed. He's really his aims off, huh? Yeah, he's not good at stuff. He gets so hot that his aim goes off. The dog just ran off and Jock went onto the press bus and begged the reporters not to mention it. Concerned about the SPCA. Listen, everybody want water or anything? Need any stew or anything? So, yeah, I'm curious the angle on the marathon. Oh, right, sorry. If we could sort of sweep another regular thing where I tried to pet the dog with my foot. No, that wasn't a pet. Well, if I may, I was actually, where I'm from, you start with a foot. Pet with a foot first. Why don't? Well, you know, you don't get hair all over your hand.

So when I tried to pet it and slipped, I don't know if you saw me slip in a smidge. Slipped a touch. That's how you fall. Yeah, you saw the lead up to that and my foot went. And some said it looked like a kick the dog. Anyway, I don't think that's where the other paper. So if you could just, you know, just go with the other. But writer John Galooly put it in his column, quote, Jock simple was asked what kind of dog it was that he tried to kick. And Jock said it was a son of a bitch. It's a it's a mutt, but that mother's definitely son of a bitch. It's just this guy's just he loves this marathon. Oh, he's amazing. He didn't just work on the Boston marathon. Back then,

there were a select few guys running marathons and they'd pitch in with each others. You could find Jock all up and down the east coast at races shouting, arguing with traffic cops, chasing kids off bicycles while making sure the race was run. Jock was without a race. He's just a lunatic. Basically, yeah. Yeah. Jock was always the guy that made things work. At a Yonkers marathon, he drove through the runners in his car and got out front and then began and then began honking his horn yelling for people to clear the road. He drove through the runners to be like, look out for distractions. Sort of like the car. Oh, fuck. Bobby Gibb was born on November 2, 1942 in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

She was a teen in the 50s when decent women just worked jobs until they found a husband. Decent women did not run. Quote, you started to become a woman and suddenly there were all these incredible constraints. I could see coming down the line that I was going to have to live in a box as a woman, literally locked up in a house. We were expected to be housewives and that's all. We weren't expected to have minds. We weren't expected to have bodies that ran. She was pre-med in college, but as a teen, began running four or five miles through the woods near her home. In 1964, she saw the Boston Marathon on TV for the first time and right there, she knew she'd run in that race someday. So I'm guessing we're going to find out how Jock feels about this

and it's hard for me to know which way he's going to swim. He's kicking dogs. He's throwing water at Uncle Sam. It's tough. She started training on her own, running in nurses shoes because women's running shoes were not made. Wow. Isn't that amazing that in fucking 1966, there were no women's running shoes? You fucking, people act like this country is so far advanced, but that's, think about how close in time that is. That's fucking insane. And don't you think in a way the reason why we still have sexism and racism is because we haven't fully processed what just happened? Not at all. Not even remotely have we processed it. That is crazy. 1966. No one thinks about this. Except of course women who understand what the struggle is. We're like, I'm actually like,

no, it's legal. It's fine. You're good. We're just going to tell you what you can do with your bodies. Okay. All right. Good deal. That's not good ladies. Good deal. You guys can run, but then we get control of the most of the parts, all the parts really going to put stuff in and then not let you do anything with it. Okay. We'll decide what your body feels like. We're white. We should do a musical. In 1966, Roberta Bobby Gibb applied to enter the Boston Marathon, but was denied. Will Cloney, the Boston Marathon race director that year, wrote to her and explained that women were not capable of running a marathon. I'm sorry, you foolish, foolish girl. It's for your own good. You see your legs will drop off. Oh, not far. The most a woman could run was only a mile and a half.

That was the longest AAU sanctioned race. Can I run it 20 times? At the time it was believed running could lead to women having big legs, growing hair on their chests, and their uterus is falling out. It's for your own good. She started as a woman and now she's a baron ape. A tall one. What a baron one. I told you. Hey. Oh, what are you doing? Oh, is he between the windows? What was happening there? He likes the window sill, but then he likes to like... Oh, he was getting up in the window. Yeah, he's fine, but it's just he's in between windows. Jose was between the screen and the window. He was getting up in there too. That's actually the title of his book, caught between a screen and a window.

Oh, it's gonna be great. Yeah, it's mostly just ink paws. Many literally thought women would die if they ran a marathon. And it's just found it's just founded in total nonsense. Yeah, there's absolutely no... Just cuz. Just cuz men. Just cuz men, cuz white men. People had thought this for a long time, but Gib knew this wasn't true because she wasn't a fucking moron. Quote, at that point, I was enraged. Here they were stopping me from doing what I love because I belong to a certain class of person. It was a double bind. How could you prove you can do something if you're not allowed to do it? Well, that's the whole point, Missy. Yeah, you've really condensed what we're saying. So Bobby Gib set out to prove everyone wrong.

Now, she had trained and ran up to 40 miles. So she was a chimpanzee. In the morning of the race, in 1966, she hid in the bushes near the start. When the starting gun went off, she just eased into the middle of the pack. Oh boy. I think I know which way our boy's going. Bobby was wearing boy sneakers, her brother's Bermuda shorts, a bathing suit, and a sweatshirt to hide her figure and put the hood up to hide her hair. Okay. So she's just like the unabomber in a one piece. From a ways off, she looked like a man, but close up, her fellow racers knew right away she was a woman. And they were supportive, even going as far as to tell her if anyone tried to stop her from finishing, they would not allow it. I'm excited. Well, I wish.

So she started feeling more comfortable and she took off her sweatshirt. And now everyone knew a woman was running in the race. Instead of booing or setting her on fire, the men cheered and women cried as she passed by. Oh, a local radio. Well, imagine this. Yeah, I get it. Imagine it's the fucking mid sixties. It's just every time I say it. It makes my centuries ago. Yeah. So it's century the dark ages. It's the mid sixties. You know what you're capable of. You know, because of your body that you're able to do this shit. And you actually are seeing for the first time a woman going fuck you. They might have been crying because they knew she was going to die in 0.5 miles. That's what I'm talking about. Well, they they're how many of these women were terrified that

her uterus is going to fall out. Oh, God, I hope one of the male runners doesn't slip on her womb. Let's see. We told you someone would get hurt. Well, now a uterus is on the ground. That gentleman has a broken leg. Wait a minute. There's a uterus on the ground of the Boston Marathon. This is what I've been waiting for. Oh, I can have a half marathon with her finally. Ah, gonna make some haggis. Oh, I finally get my dream of consummating with the marathon. Gonna put one in her. Oh, God. A local radio station started reporting her progress. When she passed Wellesley College, the women's students were waiting, screaming, and cheering. Bobby knew how important this was. I was actually running way slower than I wanted to. I was saving

my energy because I knew that the worst thing that could happen would be if I didn't finish. I had this huge weight of responsibility on me. Here I was, making this very public statement. If I had collapsed or hadn't finished, I would have set women back another 50 years or maybe longer. Bobby Gibb, who did not have her uterus fall out, finished ahead of 290 of the race's 415 official entrants. Okay. She had a running time of three hours, 21 minutes. Wow. That's really good. The governor met her at the finish line and shook her hand. Bobby thought her running of the marathon in a good time would open up the race to women. It was proof women were strong enough to run the full marathon. Now, he didn't come after her, and I could not find any reason why.

But I'm assuming that he was concerned about all the positive news coming out. Right? So it's on the radio. The governor's coming down. Everyone is saying this is awesome. Right. But he's... So I think he didn't know what to do. He's just sitting in a cold hot tub making it boil with his rage. An article appeared in Sports Illustrated title. A game girl in a man's game. I would say the biggest difference we have between history is like how you title articles. I mean, a girl. The way they start. Girl. Yeah. A girl. Girl. Girl. Quote, last week, a tidy looking and pretty 23 year old blonde named Roberta Gibb not only started,

but also covered the 26 mile 385 course. Leading us to believe she's immortal. Now, let's just take a look at that sentence. Super hot chick first. Second, she did this thing. Yeah. But in the 1967 marathon, the marathon was still not open to women. A year later. Yeah. Jock wasn't opposed to women running, but those were the rules. I'm not opposed to women's athletics, but we're taught to respect laws, to respect rules. The amateur rules here say a woman can't run more than a mile and a half. I'm in favor of making their races longer, but they don't belong with the main. They don't belong running with Jim Ryan, right? You wouldn't like to see a woman running with Jim Ryan, would you?

From then on, Jock would call her the Gibb dame. Who's she kidding? She runs in leotards and all that. Why didn't she even run in women's events? She never does. The Gibb dame don't run in anything. He's like got Trumpian nicknames. All sweaty Bobby. Crooked Bobby. Catherine Switzer was born on January 5th, 1947, and raised in Fairfax County, Virginia. Catherine wanted to be a cheerleader, but her father didn't want that for his daughter, explaining that it was better to be cheered for. Because they really are cheer followers, if you think about it. Well, if you think about it, at this time, for you to be someone who breaks through and does something important, you have to have either a father or a mother who's saying,

go fucking do it. Probably more importantly to have a father because he is part of the system that's keeping you down, right? Ironically, women needed balls. That's what I'm talking about. But I think you need to have the parents. You have to have a parent saying, no, it's all bullshit, right? Yeah, you definitely. I mean, I don't think you can come. I mean, yeah, I think you have to have some influence to know that something is unfair. Yes. Catherine started running when she was 12. Her father pushed her into it, telling her literally get in the race. Jesus, Dave, can we not take phone calls during the show? I'm sorry. It's it's my dog's ready. Is that him calling? Yeah, he calls me. I would like to be picked up.

Her father pushed her into running, telling her running a mile a day would help her earn a spot on the school field hockey team. This was when no one was running on the streets, especially not girls. But Catherine was soon running three miles a day. She would even run a mile after hockey training, although her coach held it against her saying if she had the energy to run after practice, she wasn't trying hard enough during practice. Okay. Yeah, all right. Catherine went to Lynchburg College. Okay. If anybody doesn't know it, crazy religious town, crazy religious college. Our numbers there are great. In Lynchburg. Oh, yeah, big fans. Really? Yeah. Oh, yeah. Our numbers are spiked there.

At the school, she was spotted by the school's track and field coach since there was no women's team because there were no women's teams anywhere. He asked her to run for the men's team. So naturally, the people of Lynchburg College lost their shit. Of course. Yeah, she shouldn't be doing that. She was in the press and now receiving hate mail that warned her God would strike her down for the obscene practice of running with men. So can't you like, doesn't that let you see that how like God over the years, like he's just getting like they were, they swore that he would be livid about women running. Yeah. Well, turns out he's not. He's cool with it. And they're running everywhere. So now he's livid that gay people that exist. Well, eventually you'll be like, oh,

now it's it's fine now. Everything's normal. I mean, let's just, you know, they started with saying that that black people weren't equal to white people. And now their battle is not now they're battling over where certain people can shit. Like that's where their battle is gone. From from the overall equality of black people to that person can't shit here. Well, they're losing their battle pretty fucking strongly. Yeah. Yes. Their argument is in the toilet. It is literally in the toilet now. It can be used by any gender. So in December 1966, Catherine met Arnie Briggs, who had been training for years with the Syracuse team. So he's an older guy that's been training with Arnie was the University

male man and then run in 15 Boston marathons. He started working with Catherine and soon had her running 10 miles per training session. But when she said she wanted to run the Boston marathon, he said no woman can run the Boston marathon. But I know he's training her. I know. Okay, it's fucking crazy. Okay, Arnie insisted. It was too far for a fragile woman to run. And then lost his shit when Catherine brought up Bobby Gibb quote, no game has ever run the Boston marathon. If a woman could do it, you could, but you have to prove it to me. If you ran the distance in practice, I'd be the first to take you to Boston. So he's like a climate denier climate change denier and the fact that he doesn't think Bobby Gibb actually did it.

He kind of thinks it's a myth. Well, look, the jury's still out. I think we could say that. So she trained. There's a lot of scientists who don't think she ran the right 11 like there's like 1% Yeah, it's 1.7% but they're but they're pretty strong unit. Right. So Catherine trained and trained three weeks before the marathon. Catherine and Arnie ran 26 miles. And he was like, All right. And I know you have a twin sister. And then Catherine looked at him and said, I'm not done. And she insisted they run five miles more. Oh boy. How about that? Stick that up your ass. I'm curious what his reaction Arnie had no argument. He agreed she could run. All right. I guess you can. But Arnie declared she had to register first or she'd be in the shit with the

amateur athletics union. An organized organization that still didn't think women could run without their unit uruses falling out, even though a woman had already run a marathon. She must have like taped her vagina or something. She put a plug in. Clearly she had a plug in obviously Arnie and Catherine check the rulebook. There was no mention of gender. No official guidelines. It's inferred. Right. Bobby Gibb had been denied due to women being due to being a woman, but there was no official rule barring a woman. They just assumed that it was so outlandish and insane that they didn't have to put it in the rulebook. Right. Yeah. Well, it's like like it's like saying we don't have rules against turtles driving cars. It's like that's in kids movies, like there'll

always be like a moment in like a movie where like there's like a council of judges and someone will be like, I don't see anything in the rulebook that says that a Sasquatch can't play basketball. Catherine signed her entry form KV Switzer to avoid detection as a woman. She sent it in along with the $2 entry fee. Her boyfriend, Tom Miller, was a 235 pound ex all American football player and a nationally ranked hammer thrower. Whoa. I assume I assume a hammer throwing is some sort of track and field thing as opposed to a guy just running around throwing hammers. No, he's a furious carpenter. Okay. Yeah. No, it is not a sport. He's been jailed. Oh, Jesus. Yeah. No, it's it's homicidal. Okay. Yeah. Tom now said he was going to run in the marathon. But they didn't need to

train because quote, if a girl can run a marathon, I can run a marathon. She sounds like she was probably in a pretty healthy relationship. He seems supportive. So he's just running because he doesn't want his girlfriend to out athletic. Well, and plus you're going to want someone to carry your uterus cross the finish line for you. Don't leave it out. Well, I mean, still to this day, the Boston marathon, they give you a uterus bag. Yeah, no, that's the big silver thing at the end. In case it falls out during the race, quickly capture it. No, yeah, you got to run with a little like basket under you that sort of just drapes. On the morning of April 18, 1967, Catherine decided she wanted to look feminine. So she put on lipstick and gold earrings. Oh boy.

But it was cold and snowy. So she also put on a big sweatshirt. At the gate, Boston Athletic Association officials in long overcoats and felt dress hats were checking the numbers of the racers. They were either too in a hurry to notice or didn't care that she was a woman because she got through. Catherine put on her number 261 and started warming up. Then men began to approach her and wish her good luck. Tom saw her lipstick and told her to take it off because he was worried she'd be noticed. But Catherine refused. Okay. The gun went off and Catherine ran with Arnie Tom and another runner from the Syracuse team. The first couple of miles went with no problems. They ran beside each other, getting a few cheers from spectators. The uterus about to drop as an

enemy. But they would not remain anonymous for long. At mile four, a press truck pulled up beside them with the cameras on. Catherine was the first woman wearing a number and the press knew this was a big deal. As soon as the press were on it, Jock Semple knew. Jock was not happy. That's what I wanted to hear. That she had managed to hoodwink officials and get a number. Jock was in another truck that he ordered to pull ahead of Catherine. Oh, dear me. Follow that woman. He then leapt out and he stood in the middle of the road in his overcoat and felt hat shaking his finger at Catherine. No, no, no. Naughty, naughty. As she passed, he said to something she did not understand. Then he reached for her hand. He just got ahold of her glove instead and ripped it off.

She had to do a stutter step to get around. At first she thought he was just some crazy spectator. Well, in a way. Right. I mean, he gave me both. He's both. But then she saw that he had a blue and gold BAA ribbon on his lapel. But Jock wasn't done. Quote, moments later, I heard a scraping noise of leather shoes coming up fast behind me. When a runner hears that kind of noise, it's usually danger like hearing a dog's paws on the pavement. Instinctively, I jerked my head around quickly and looked square into the most vicious face I'd ever seen. Oh, geez. A big man, a huge man with bare teeth was set to pounce. And before I could react, he grabbed my shoulder and flung me back screaming, get the hell out of my race and give me those numbers. Oh, Jesus, Jack. No.

Jack was livid because this was Bobby Gibbs all over again, but worse. Now this woman had a number. She was official and there were not supposed to be women officially in the race. There is now a famous photo, Catherine nervously looking over her shoulder as stocky old jock, brown hair blowing in the wind, face twisted with rage is clutching for Catherine. This was the culmination of all the weirdos who had been ruining his race. Quote, then he swiped down my front, trying to rip off my bib number. Just as I leapt backward from him, he missed the numbers, but I was so surprised and frightened that I slightly wet my pants and turned to run. Whoa. But now the man had the back of my shirt and it was swiping at the bib number on my back. I was making little cries of not thinking

at all, just trying to get away. When I saw tiny brave Arnie batted him and tried to push him away, shouting, leave her alone, jock. I've trained her. She's okay. Leave her alone. And the man screamed, stay out of this, Arnie. And swatted him away like a gnat. What? But now I would watch marathons if this shit happened. Fucking the best. Now remember mile 16, a lunatic Scottish man is going to try to denumber you because of your gender, because your gender. But now her boyfriend, Tom Miller, had enough. I was going to say. Using his 285 pounds, he body slammed jock with a well-placed shoulder block. Jock hit the ground, winded. Arnie yelled at Catherine to run like hell and they took off.

As they ran, Arnie was saying he was going to kill jock. Oh, geez. A press truck pulled up beside them with three feet of runners. A photographer hung out getting some nice face shots of her. Then riders in the back of the truck started questioning her. What are you trying to prove? When are you going to quit? What happened with that Scottish man a mile ago? When are you going to quit? Yeah, that's good. Before stuff starts falling out, when do you think you'll wrap this up? And how will you lead your life with no children? Are you worried that your family name will die with you? How will you get along with a hairy chest? What do you think your ovulation cycle is going to be like after this? You're about to be de-uterized. What do you live like as a man?

Can we look at your ovaries? Now Catherine was mad, but she also calmed down and told them she wasn't trying to prove anything. All she wanted to do was run. But she was humiliated by what had happened and wanted to drop out of the race. But that wasn't an option. There was too much riding on the first woman with a number running the Boston Marathon. If she dropped out, people would say women couldn't run a marathon. So she kept on. She knew she would finish even if it was on her knees. Of course, jock wasn't done. Oh boy. It's really pitting my understanding for the plight of a woman against how much I love comedy. Ah, a bus rolled up. Oh no, I've got a bus now, bitch! Next stop, you! Jock was standing on the floorboards holding onto the outside door,

like a character from a Mad Max movie. Spraying his face. He's like garbage manning. Yeah, just drinking spray paint for whatever reason. He shook his fist and screamed, you're all in big trouble! Wow, this guy really liked the Boston Marathon. But then the men around Catherine running got upset. They were not down with jock and his threats. They started flipping him off and shouting obscenities at him. Okay. Arnie screamed at jock to quote, get the hell out of here, jock, leave us alone. He finally took the hint and the bus sped off, leaving a nice cloud of exhaust for the runners while laying on the horn for runners in front

of them to get out of the way. Wow. So the other men in the fucking, so far, all the other male racers have been stand up guys. Well, now that they know that she doesn't die after 1.5 miles, they've been cool. That's very good point. As the race went on, the tempers came out. Catherine was angry at Tom for hitting jock so hard. She thought he went overboard. The dude was trying to take her number. I know, but in her mind, he caught like, it's almost like a black person at a Trump rally. Right. You just, you know what state? Do your protest, hold your sign quietly, take them out. You're under a microscope. Don't give them any fuel. Don't give them any pictures. She's doing a protest thing. It'd be like if Jackie Robinson punched a picture. Right. Yeah.

She wanted this to go smoothly. I get that. And Tom was angry. He suddenly yelled at Catherine, you're getting me into all kinds of trouble. She needs to get out of this relationship. Tom thought he was going to, he's projecting so much. He now thought he was going to get kicked out of the AAU. He wanted to compete in the Olympics in the hammer throw and thought now that he just hit an official, he was done. How am I going to become a household hammer thrower name? Catherine just said he was the one who had hit an official, which she never wanted. And now she was upset that he was starting a fight with her in public in the middle of a race. Yeah. I'm sure as she's putting womanhood on her back, she really needs to be having like

arguments with his hammer throwing future. Yeah. Look, Tom, we can talk about your hammer throwing future when I'm done changing the Boston marathon. I'm sorry. I'm running for an entire gender. Could you put your little bitch shit about the hammer throw? I'm going to have to enter the screw competition. Tom ripped the numbers off his front and back, then told Catherine she was too slow and ran off into the pack ahead of her. Okay. He, I mean, talk about a guy who's going up and down in my book. Everyone around them looked embarrassed. Catherine started to cry. I told her, I told her to forget about him and shake it off. And she did. She then caught up to Tom a little while later. What's that bitch who asked her to walk with him for a bit.

Really? She said she couldn't or she lose her momentum and passed him by as she ran off. He yelled, I'd never leave you. Can I just say, can I just say that Catherine is the epitome of a strong powerful woman and Tom is the epitome of the stereotype of the male fuckhead holding them back. Yeah. She's like ironing out relationship woes while she's about to finish the marathon. Like he is. And now he's being a little funny. He is literally the stereotype of what so many women think. Well, he's doing that thing where like most men, I'm sure have gone through it, where you just, you're acting up so much for something. And in two hours later, you're like, I'm the worst. Yeah. But he also is acting like he is running with her to protect her.

But it's all about him. Yeah. It's all about him. Well, look, he's basically Thor. He is Thor. So a little respect to be nice. Catherine Arnie. Don't leave me, babe. When did I leave you? A mile ago. Besides that, hey, babe. Catherine Arnie and the other Syracuse runners finished in four hours, 20 minutes. Catherine. We're 20, dude. We're 20, brah. Sparget up. Mega beer. Tom finished an hour later. The press are out of Catherine. What made you do it? Are you a suffragette? Oh, God. Yeah. No, no, yes. Can we see your penis? No, yes, I'm running for voting in the 30s. Oh, interesting. Why Boston? Why wear numbers? They were all afraid. What's a stupid question? They were all afraid that they would be arrested

for Tom hitting Jock, but nothing happened. Although Jock had Catherine disqualified from the race for being a woman, even though there were no clear cut rules that women were not allowed. Whatever. A BAA official insisted a podiatrist check her feet right there. And when she took off her shoes, her socks were soaked in blood. The podiatrist lanced blisters and taped her feet. Photos of Catherine running, being attacked, then saved by Tom, and Catherine and bloody socks at the finish line were all over the newspapers that evening. BAA director Will Cloney said, quote, women can't run in the marathon because the rules forbid it. Unless we have rules, society will be in chaos. I don't make the rules, but I try to carry them out. We have no space

in the marathon for any unauthorized person, even a man. If that girl were my daughter, I would spank her. Oh, dude, honestly, it's the most times it's the last sentence. First of all, not a girl, a woman. Yeah. Second of all, you spanking a woman like you've described is how a lot of porno starts. Yeah, he really, I mean, as a matter of fact, I'd be willing to offer up a spanking now if she were so inclined. As long as she keeps her panties on. Naturally, the reaction of the AAU was the opposite of what should have occurred. The AAU barred women from all races with male runners. So now, now what she did was get a rule in that says no women. Yeah, basically. God damn it. If a woman violated the rule, she would be barred from competing

in any races, but lifetime. Yeah. Okay. So the rule is the same. The rule is that women can't run in races. And if a woman runs in a race, then she can't run in a race. You can't come in here. And if you do, you're not allowed back. But women did run just not with numbers. They also pushed the governing bodies to allow women officially into races. So women, you know, Bobby Gibb, and the next year they go out and run again and go, yeah, we're fucking doing it. You can pretend like it's not happening. Oh, thank you. We'll do that. We'll do that first part you suggested. Every year we're gonna do it. So more and more and more would just keep showing up and running. And they can't stop them from running along with the guys unless they have a number.

But they're gonna finish and they're gonna fucking go, yeah. And eventually, yeah, you keep pretending like this isn't happening in front of your fucking face. You know what women's number is in my book? One. Bro. For me, it's 69. I think you might want to retract that. Finally, the Boston Marathon relented and in 1972 allowed women to run. In 1973, Catherine was at the starting line of the race when Jock came up behind her and grabbed her. He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her around and gave her a kiss on the cheek in front of tons of TV cameras. She said that was his way of saying thank you and his way of apologizing. They eventually became very good friends. Once the rules were changed, Jock became

very supportive of women running. Hello, reality show. He's just about the rules. Yeah. No, no, men allowed. Women only. No, Jock, relax. No. The test is a fall off. Bobby Gibb graduated from the University of California, San Diego in 1969, fulfilling the pre-medical requirements and with a major in philosophy and a minor in mathematics. She was then rejected from medical school due to her gender. She worked as a horse riding instructor, a sculptor, a lawyer, and an associate in a neuroscience laboratory. She sounds like one of those commercials for a degree online. She's clearly super fucking smart. She wrote a book about inflation and another about economics, and she continued to run in marathons for years.

In 1996, at the 100th running of the Boston Marathon, the BA finally recognized Gibb's three wins in 1966, 1967, and 1968. She was awarded a medal for each. Okay. Catherine became an author, television commentator, and marathon runner. Catherine says she never received a negative comment from a male runner in her entire time. Jock was inducted into the... She must have had headphones on. Jock was inducted into the American Long Distance Running Hall of Fame in 1985. Dave, can you imagine the emotion? Oh, this is the bloody greatest day of my life. Ever since, I knew you could run longer than a short distance. I knew what I wanted to be involved with. You complete my long distance marathoning. Put it away, Jock. Well, I was just gonna say

if it was possible to now bring up something I talked about ages and ages ago, but I think we might now have made the technological strains. Shut the mic. To equip a marathon with a functioning vagina. Shut the mic. And then I will finish inside of it. I'm back, baby. Jock died of cancer in 1988. Boy, I'm glad I hit that bit when I did. The Jock Semple Award is given by the Boston Athletic Association each year to a local Boston athlete who has made an impact with running especially... Who fought a fellow runner? Performance. Wow, holy shit. That was some juicy stuff, David. This is fucking crazy shit, right? Wow, yeah. It is... And I started out this story. I asked someone to a researcher... Not just like a Starbucks employee. No, you know, there's some people

that help me research and I was like, can you do the story on her? And he sent me the story and he's like, there's just not enough here. And I was looking and I was like, well, what about the guy who tried to do it? I just... In my mind, I was like, I wonder what the guy... What's the deal with the guy who tried to pull her down? And then I started reading about him like, oh my god. Oh, sweet bastard. We have our leader. Well, that is... That's interesting. That's the business. Yep. I guess you could say, this week, you really taught me a story from American history on a topic that I had no idea what it would be about. Isn't it funny how that works? Gareth? Yeah, Dave? We sign cars. Damn right, we do.