Given this one race memoire, more of an accomplishment than many of us could ever hope to accomplish, if the poster is in fact the real Gerry Lindgren (which, given previous posts, appears to be true), I would simply thank him, not question him, and heed his advice any day of the week:
An American had never beaten a Russian at 5,000 or 10,000 meters.
"The Russians ruled," author and runner Kenny Moore says. " To even run with them, let alone run off on them, was seismic."
So Lindgren hit the track for the 10,000 meters in the Los Angeles Coliseum on July 25, 1964, and sent shockwaves that extended will beyond the world of sports.
Lindgren didn't just beat the Russians that day, he destroyed them.
"I don't think either of us had a clue just how phenomenal that was," says Lindgren's coach, Tracy Walters. "If we did, it would have scared us."
Lindgren's dramatic victory that day finally put American distance runners on equal footing with the rest of the world.
"What he did as a young runner against the Russians was something no other runner could do. No one had ever beat them," says former Washington State coach John Chaplin, who came to WSU when Lindgren was a senior. "That made other runners say if this kid could do it, hell, we could do it. And they did. But they didn't do it until he had done it."
Leonid Ivanov and Anatoly Dutov, ranked second and third in the world, towered over Lindgren by a good 6 inches.
Lindgren, who now lives in Hawaii, remembers the race as if it were yesterday.
"When the race got going . . . everything settled in. I was just waiting for them to throw their big kick," he says.
A lap short of 4 miles in the 6.2-mile race, Ivanov surged about 20 yards ahead of Dotov, causing a dilemma for Lindgren that Walters solved.
"I didn't know what to do, stay or go," Lindgren says. "My coach saw my dilemma and yelled at Bell, `Tell Gerry to go on by if he feels good."'
He did.
"I went to the outside. I just floored it as hard as I could go," he says. "Suddenly I'm in the lead. I'm thinking I shouldn't be there. . . . I was just running completely out of control, as hard as I could, thinking all the time, `Lazy Americans.' It was the only thing in my mind."
Pictures show Ivanov with an absolutely bewildered look as Lindgren roared by. The crowd went berserk when Lindgren made the move.
Lindgren was supposed to drop back into a normal pace but didn't because he thought he heard Ivanov on his heels.
Lindgren figured he had to look strong until he was passed, but no one went by. He kept hearing footsteps. His legs were rubbery.
As the laps wound down, his goals changed. As he passed Bell he thought he heard his coach yell that his lead was 5 meters. Maybe he could still finish in the same lap, maybe he could beat one of the Russians.
"It wasn't until I went around the final curve to the straightaway I thought maybe I could beat one of them if I went fast," he says.
Lindgren still heard footsteps as he crossed the finish line in 29 minutes, 17.6 seconds and glanced around. He was shocked neither Soviet runner had rounded the corner, more than 100 meters back.
"I finally figured out it was my own footsteps," Lindgren says, still amazed at the memory. "I was so inexperienced, I didn't realize you heard your own echo."
Ivanov finished 22 seconds after Lindgren, a lifetime in international racing. Dotov's time was 30:51.8.
Lindgren kept running. Not a victory lap -- that wasn't the modest Lindgren's style -- but his usual warm-down lap. A herd of photographers chased him. Along the backstretch, he slapped hands with adoring fans in the front row.
The moment was so moving, U.S. Attorney General Robert Kennedy, just months after his brother was assassinated, sat among the delirious crowd with tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Then it sank in," Lindgren says. "The crowd was roaring. I wasn't sure what I had done. I was in a trance."