On this day 68 years ago, Emil Zátopek, the legendary Czechoslovak long-distance runner, made history. I had heard of Zátopek and his great feats before but it was only recently that I started developing a growing interest after rewatching this video and reading more about him. I’ve now also bought his biography by Richard Askwith and I can’t wait to learn more.
His achievements in the Helsinki Olympics of 1952 summarised here in his Wikipedia entry are what he’s best remembered by:
At the 1952 Summer Olympics in Helsinki, Zátopek won gold in the 5,000 m, 10,000 m, and the marathon, breaking Olympic records in each event. Zátopek is the only person to win these three long distance events in the same Olympic games. His victory in the 5,000 m came after a ferocious last lap in 57.5 seconds, during which he went from fourth place to first in the final turn, passing first Alain Mimoun of France, then Herbert Schade of West Germany, and finally Chris Chataway of Great Britain. Zátopek’s final medal came when he decided at the last minute to compete in the marathon for the first time in his life, and won. His strategy for the marathon was simple: he raced alongside Jim Peters, the British world-record holder. After a punishing first fifteen kilometres, in which Peters knew he had overtaxed himself, Zátopek asked the Englishman what he thought of the race thus far. The astonished Peters told the Czech that the pace was “too slow,” in an attempt to slip up Zátopek, at which point Zátopek simply accelerated. Peters did not finish, while Zátopek won the race and set an Olympic record. Zátopek running in his first Marathon, beat second placed Reinaldo Gorno (Argentina) by 2:01 minutes.
Of course I’m amazed of what he achieved throughout his career as an athlete but it’s also his human side which has drawn me to admire him even more. This anecdote from an article in The Guardian is a good example of what he was like:
In 1968 the Australian athlete Ron Clarke came to visit. One of the world’s fastest distance runners for a decade, Clarke had suffered from a string of bad luck at major championships, and in that year’s Olympics in Mexico City had collapsed and very nearly died from altitude sickness. For all his lack of success Zatopek respected him as an athlete and liked him as a person, and the two spent a pleasurable day together. When he dropped Clarke off at the airport, Zatopek embraced him warmly and handed him a small parcel. “Not out of friendship but because you deserve it,” he said.
Clarke kept the package in his pocket until his plane was in the air. “I wondered whether I was smuggling something out for him. I retired to the privacy of the lavatory. When I unwrapped the box, there, inscribed with my name and that day’s date, was Emil’s Olympic 10,000-metre gold medal. I sat on that toilet seat and wept,” Clarke said.
I think the last couple of lines encompass him best:
Certainly those who knew him best were sure that Zatopek’s greatness had not been confined to the track. As Ron Clarke […] put it: “There is not, and never was, a greater man than Emil Zatopek.”
My Excerpts 