Entering the stadium Friday evening, Ryun had no idea of the wonders he was about to perform. He was not even sure he would try for a record. "I'm prepared for a big effort mentally," he said, "but I'm still not sure I'm all right for it physically. It all depends on just how good I feel." Thoroughly rested after an easy week, he stood for a few moments on the grass near the entrance to the track, then turned to some friends. "Don't take this the wrong way," he said quietly, "but could I have about 20 minutes to myself right now?" He had made his decision. He jogged off alone across the field outside the stadium, then sat down under a clump of trees to complete the loosening-up exercises that would prepare him, physically and psychologically, for the fastest mile that has ever been run.
In his recent races Ryun had been relaxing behind the leaders, surging to the front whenever he pleased and winning in times dictated by the early pacemakers. "I realized," he said, "that I wouldn't set any records doing that, because no one was going to knock himself out setting a record pace. So I decided to push myself." He told only one opponent, Grelle, of his plan. "Fine. See you later," Grelle answered. "I sure won't try to keep up with you."
No one tried, as Ryun ran the first quarter in 59.2 and the half in 1:59, slightly slower than he had wanted to go. "My legs felt kind of heavy early," he said. "Then I began to feel very good. In fact, this was an easier race than the one at Berkeley last year."
Moving farther away from the field, Ryun ran his third quarter in 58.6. "When I saw what you were doing," said Oregon's Roscoe Divine, who finished fifth, "I thought I'd like to rush up to help push you. But then I said, 'Let him do it himself. I'd better just worry about placing.' "
When the time was announced, officials asked Ryun to jog a victory lap for the crowd. "You must really feel like jogging another lap," someone said. Ryun looked up with a small smile. "You know, that's the trouble. I do. I have too much left." As he jogged, Divine talked about Ryun's feet. "With somebody to help him," Divine said, "he'll certainly run 3:50." Grelle, who was delightedly claiming a world record of his own—"for my age group"—added, "You can't set a figure. There is no limit."
Ryun came back and asked to hear the times for all the runners. They were duly recited, down to Liquori's 3:59.8, and as he listened Ryun seemed to realize for the first time just what he had done. "Gee," he said, "that was a fast race, wasn't it? But if I could run that fast, and still close in 53.5, I guess I've got a long way to go yet."