Athletics of To-Day 1929

The Marathon Race 117 Marathon Day, rgo8, was one of almost tropical heat, and the dust from the untarred roads was stifling. When the field of fifty-six runners lined up to face Lord Desborough, acting as starter, Johnny Hayes, U.S.A., was in the third, and Dorando, Italy, and C. Hefferon, South Africa, in the fourth row. H.R.H. the Princess of Wales gave the signal, and Lord Desborough fired the pistol. Two Englishmen, Clarke and Barnes, headed the fi ld, followed by Burn and the Indian, Tom Longboat, both of anada, and Pietri Dorando. At Barnespool ridge, Eton, T. Jack, of the United Kingdom, had assumed the lead and the first mile had been covered in the absurdly fast time of 5 mins. ri secs. At five miles, where I think I am right in saying that that great journalist, Fred Hatton of The Athletic News, who couJd not get a s at in the Press car, was waiting with a bicycle to act as attendant to Lord, Jack stopped for rest and refreshment, and his fellow Englishmen, Price and Lord, took the lead, with Hefferon and Dorando b hind them. Hayes as yet was nowhere in sight. The distance had been covered in 27 mins. r s c., and at ten mil s (56 mins. 53 s cs.) and at leven miles (r hour 2 mins. 44 secs.), rice and Lord w re still in the lead. :Meanwhile the first mad chase had scattered many fainting forms along th dusty roadc;, lined ev rywh re with eh ring spectators, while others still struggled on foot-sor , dirty, and sweat-dr nch d. At about the half distance Lord collapsed into a d of n ttles with f t so skinn d by leath r shoes that th y must have caus d him agony. H had d part d from the sch dul Harry Andr ~ had plann d for him and in trying to race ric up ind r Hill had brought about his own d wnfall. H ff ron was th n at ric 's should rand st yed th re until he took the 1 ad at fift n mil s (r /2 /22), wh re Lord had ag in caught up and Dor ndo was lying fourth. Longboat, th anadian Indian, in third place, wa about tt all in "and k pt app aling to his attend nt to 1 t him hav the bott! of champagn , the n ck of which pr trud d from the cyclist's p ck t, and I fancy he got it in th nd, for at sev nt en miles he had dropped to a walk and orando soon pass d him.