Orange County : Prep Wednesday : Cross-Country Athletes Once Ran Endless Miles of Workouts, but That Philosophy Changed When Some Runners Began to Feel as If They Were . . . : Running on Empty

In the summer of 1964, a skinny 18-year-old with a butch haircut and a pitter-patter stride rocked the running world with a 10,000-meter victory over Pyotr Bolotnikov, the Olympic gold medalist from the Soviet Union.

The immediate question was: How?

How could Gerry Lindgren, a 112-pound kid just weeks out of high school, become the greatest sensation in American distance running overnight? How could Lindgren, a mile specialist, outrun some of the best 10,000-meter men in the world?

To these and other such questions, Lindgren opened his training diary and answered: Miles.

Lots of miles. Miles in the morning, miles at noon and more miles at night. And if he was in the mood, (which he usually was), a few miles in between. Lindgren’s training log calculated 30, 35, up to 50 miles . . . per day.

For runners, it was the dawn of distance. Mega-distance. Suddenly, those three-striped, rubber-soled shoes began wearing out at tremendous speeds.

But as many eventually learned, the mega-mile trend wasn’t for everybody. In fact, many prominent distance runners look back today on the seemingly endless pavement-pounding that may have shortened or even ended their careers.

“In high school, I heard about guys who were doing 130 miles a week and more,” said Ralph Serna, former Loara High and UC Irvine distance star. “Every morning, we wondered if we should be out there doing 10-milers, too. But our coach’s whole idea was that he wasn’t going to burn us out in high school. He figured he’d give us a chance to develop our best in college. I guess he was ahead of his time.”

But others, who tried to outrun their longer-distance peers, often put reason aside to search for an edge.

“When I began training for 1964 (Olympic Trials), people were always asking, ‘How many miles did you run today?’ ” said Bill Dellinger, two-time Olympian and now track and field coach at the University of Oregon. “Before Lindgren, I never thought about adding up my miles. Then all of a sudden, putting in more miles than the next guy became The Way. I don’t think we (American distance runners) have ever gotten over it.”

Lindgren wasn’t the only one to advocate over-distance. New Zealand’s Peter Snell, winner of three Olympic gold medals, and his coach, Arthur Lydiard, came to Southern California in the early ‘60s, giving clinics on the virtues of 20-mile runs to enhance aerobic endurance.

“Lydiard and Snell really opened peoples’ eyes to mega-mileage,” said Doug Speck, Southern California editor of Track & Field News. “And 65,000 people watched Lindgren beat the Soviets at the L.A. Coliseum (in the 1964 dual meet). It had a major shock effect around here.”

Suddenly, programs once based on light jogging and heavy track work began emphasizing the new mega-mileage regimen. Jack Hedges, Westminster High School coach, was one of the first to implement 100-mile-or-more weeks into his cross-country program.

Costa Mesa’s Joe Fisher started “two-a-days.” And at Tustin, then-Coach Tom Noon, now at Golden West, kept runners exhausted, but enthusiastic.

“Noon worked us really hard, but he could get you fired up about it, too,” said Bob Messina, UCLA women’s cross-country coach who coached at University High in the early ‘80s.

“He sent us out on two-hour runs and had us doing 50 quarters (quarter-mile repeats). Then we’d run a few miles down to the park and back. I remember being a very tired little boy back then.”

Despite their fatigue, many athletes continued down the road of mega-mileage, hoping to gain an extra edge. In a sport where win or lose often depends on how much pain one can tolerate--mentally, as well as physically--this extra edge allowed for a certain comfort cushion in competition.

Some might have called it obsession.

“I woke up at 4 a.m., ran five miles, then ran again at 7, then I’d run five miles at lunch, then again after school,” said Don Ocana, a standout at Valencia High in the late ‘60s.

“I was going about 100-120 every week as a sophomore, then pretty soon started running all the time. I read the all about the training of the Russians and the Germans. I wanted to do everything I could to get faster.”

Of course, not all athletes worked with such intensity. Many averaged a modest 20-30 miles a week, composed mostly of easy jogging and fast track work. Some ran very little, depending on the day-to-day whims of their coaches.

“We basically did not train in high school,” said Corona del Mar Coach Bill Sumner, a former standout at Baldwin Park High. “We ran 20 miles per week, max. Our distance coach was the science teacher. He’d come out, take roll, and for the most part, ask us what we thought we should do today.

“A long run was a flat, five miles on the riverbed. No one knew any better. We even ran and raced barefoot sometimes, acting like little Indians, leaping over tumbleweeds.”

But for others, the high-mileage programs paid off. Westminster, which had distance runners going up to 135 miles a week, had four of the best milers in Orange County in 1970. Costa Mesa started a 10-year, 75-dual meet winning streak that lasted until 1983.

Dan Hirsch, coach at Buena Park for 17 years, also enjoyed a 10-year winning streak and a program that has been ranked in the Southern Section 2-A for 15 consecutive years.

“I was one who believed in lots of hard work, all the time,” Hirsch said. “Back then, it was the more, the better.”

Then came Eric Hulst.

Hulst, who started running to get in shape for ninth-grade tennis, became a national high school distance standout within his first year at Laguna Beach High.

In four years there, Hulst won three Southern Section 2-A cross-country titles; a 19-and-under world cross-country title; and set three current national high school two-mile records: 9:04 as a freshman, 8:50.6 as a sophomore and 8:44.9 as a junior.

Hulst’s training methods brought him almost as much attention as his racing.

As a freshman, Hulst ran 90 miles a week, including his morning 10-miler from his Emerald Bay home to uptown Corona del Mar and back. As a sophomore, Hulst increased his morning run to 13 miles and added four-pound weights in each hand to build arm strength.

By his senior year, Hulst was averaging 130 miles a week, running mile-long hill repeats to the Laguna Beach skyline, and doing hundreds of stadium steps under the weight of a 10-pound lead-filled vest.

Len Miller, who coached Hulst at both Laguna Beach and UC Irvine, once said: “In five years, Eric could be the greatest long-distance runner in the history of our country.”

Hulst was then just a high school sophomore, starting his second year of running, but many area runners tried to emulate him as if he had been a veteran champion.

“Eric Hulst was my idol,” said Joey Gomez, a former distance star at Valencia High. “I tried to do everything he did. I ran a 132-mile week once, and tried hand weights, too.”

But Hulst’s brutal workouts rarely worked for anyone but Hulst.

“I think a lot of runners were wrecked (trying to do the things Eric did),” said Speck. “Eric’s ability to withstand that kind of thing was one-of-a-kind.”

At Irvine, Hulst ran well, but never reached his potential. In his sophomore year, he had a knee injury from which he never quite recovered. Though he loved his running, his interest in school was only moderate at best. He dropped out his junior year.

Suddenly, Eric Hulst became the Eric Hulst Syndrome. Many were convinced he was a mental burnout case, and some even suggested he quit because he was afraid he wouldn’t achieve his goals.

“Lots of people assume I burned out emotionally,” said Hulst, who now owns a wallpapering service. “But that was never true. If the knee hadn’t given out, I’d probably still be out there (competing) today. It was the body that gave in, not the mind.

“Sure, I had aspirations for the Olympics and all. I wanted to be the best. Definitely. I wanted to spend a few summers in Europe (on the track and field circuit). But it was a good time in my life. I wasn’t depressed when I gave it up. I’m happy I got what I did from it.”

Listening to Hulst, one is convinced, yet at the same time perplexed. How could an athlete with such potential walk away, seemingly without bitterness? Hulst smiled and said:

“Actually, now that I look back, I think I spent too much time and energy on it. There are more things in life I can be happy with. I’ve taken up photography, I ride my bike. Athletes need to understand there are other things.”

Hulst’s philosophy seems to parallel a recent shift in the sport. Namely, a change from the no-pain, no-gain, mega-mileage attitudes to one of a balanced approach.

Stewart Calderwood, Laguna Beach coach who was a teammate of Hulst at Laguna Beach and Irvine, has a training philosophy that he says is completely opposite of Miller.

“Years after Laguna, I find out we were doing marathon-type workouts in high school,” he said. “One time we ran a 153-mile week, 22 miles a day to prepare for a two- mile race. I had the experiment done on me. I know the outcome. It might have been good for Eric, but it was terrible for the rest of us.

“I feel a great responsibility to my athletes. We average 40 miles, I don’t even mention morning (workouts) to them. I’m not trying to get them to be the best in high school, I want them to continue (competing) through college and beyond.”

Calderwood’s philosophies are echoed throughout the county. Many coaches have chopped weekly mileage standards in half or less, substituting shorter, quicker quality work. Others programs, such as Santa Ana, have adopted alternate forms of exercise, including swimming and cycling when legs are sore and tired.

Knowledge of exercise physiology has helped Corona del Mar’s Sumner develop his program, integrating information concerning nutrition, hydration, and anaerobic and aerobic thresholds. And though Servite’s Mark Mulkerin admits: “I’m a total non-athlete,” he keeps up on the latest information by attending college coaching clinics throughout the Southland.

Tim Butler, Dana Hills coach, believes that encouraging his runners is the biggest factor in the Dolphins’ success. Tustin Coach Tom Coffey, who called himself “the most intense, demanding coach around,” sends his runners on long, hard runs--with swimming pool stops along the way just for fun.

“I know I’ve changed my thinking,” said Buena Park’s Hirsch. “I used to have the kids run at 5:30 every summer morning because I worked construction. Now we have none, and the result is better rested kids. When it would be 100 degrees and a third-stage smog alert, I used to say, ‘Hey, we’re tough! Get out there.’ Now I cut it to an easy three-miler or even send them home. We’ve gone from 70-75 miles a week to 35-40, and I don’t see anything but happier kids who are lasting longer into the season.”