MARSH KEEPS ON KICKING : Steeplechaser Conquers Barriers and Pratfalls

One child answers the front door and three others peer from behind it. Jimmy, the oldest and, apparently, the bravest, steps from behind the door and guns down the visitor with his toy rifle.

Ra-ta-ta-ta-tat . Another reporter bites the dust.

Shrieks of laughter. Not from the children, who lost interest in their victim moments after winning the Battle of the Entry Hall. No, it is their father, that grown up little boy, Henry Marsh, America’s best steeplechaser for what seems like forever.

Marsh loves a good practical joke, or a good ambush, having been on the receiving end of both so often in his 12-year career. Marsh, 34, is scarcely remembered as the American record-holder in the steeplechase. We don’t often think of him as the only American track athlete to be ranked in the top 10 in the world in his event for 11 consecutive years. He’s going to Seoul--he’s on the Olympic team for the fourth time--but that’s not the big thing.

We hardly ever think of Marsh as an attorney, devoted family man or even member of the U.S. Olympic Committee’s executive board. He is all of those things.

But when we think of Marsh, if we do, we think of Hard Luck Henry. When we see Marsh in our mind’s eye, we see him running hard from behind, straining to catch the other runners. We see Marsh finally reach the lead runner, pulling even at the last barrier. And then, we see him fall flat on his face.

This darn subject just never gets dropped, this rap about having a string--eight years’ worth--of bad luck at big meets. And the fact that he is an extremely nice guy notwithstanding, Marsh is really getting fed up with all the attention paid to his mishaps.

“People say I’m jinxed,” he said. “If that’s so, then I’m the luckiest jinxed person in the world.”

Actually, since 1984 things were going along smoothly for Marsh, i.e., no one was bringing it up, until the U.S. Olympic trials in July. Then, a sequence of events began that were both frightening and, after everything turned out all right, humorous.

First of all, Marsh got sick again before the trials. Another virus. Turns out it’s been the same virus all along. His doctors told Marsh that his first bout with mononucleosis (in 1979) has left him with a weakened immunity to some blood-related illnesses.

Unfortunately for Marsh, the virus flares up in times of physical or mental stress. A way of life for a world-class athlete.

He had to adjust his preparations accordingly. “I really backed off in my mileage,” he said. “Better to take two days off and rest than to miss a week or two of training.”

Of course, since this was Marsh, there was more. Marsh’s doctors found something else, something weird. Doctors discovered that as a result of more than a decade of high-level competition, Marsh’s adrenal glands no longer produced adrenaline. They dried out after years of providing that late-race rush. Marsh now must take medication to stimulate the production of adrenaline.

Marsh went into the trials as the favorite, virus, glands and all. Then the bad luck began.

On his way to the track for his first-round race, Marsh had a traffic accident. His car was rear-ended in the parking lot at the track. The car that hit his was driven by a track official.

Being who he is and having experienced what he has, Marsh shook it off and made it to the semifinals.

In the semis, Marsh ran his way, from behind, but was clipped by another runner and fell at the last barrier.

Even as runners passed him, Marsh got up, put on a furious kick and placed sixth, earning the last qualifying spot for the final.

He also gashed his hand in the fall and the cut required a few stitches.

Naturally, seeing as how it was Hard Luck Henry, all of this was eagerly absorbed and reported by the media. Marsh, however, was good natured and patient as reporters asked for the gory details.

Marsh also provided some suspense in the final.

As he stood at the starting line, Marsh noticed that one of the officials for his race was the same man who had rear-ended him. Another omen?

No, as it turned out. Marsh ran conservatively, out of harm’s way, and sat back until his last-lap kick. The crowd roared, then, as Marsh charged from the back of the pack to second place. The old man with the little boy’s enthusiasm had made his fourth Olympic team.

There is something heartwarming about Henry Marsh, something unsinkable and unflappable.

Suzi Marsh was munching on M&Ms; and musing on her husband’s career.

“Henry is definitely a strong person in that he has been able to accept these failures that have come along,” Suzi said, meaning it in the nicest way.

Said Henry: “They weren’t failures. They were setbacks.”

Regardless of your point of view--that Marsh has bad luck, is jinxed or just happens to be in very public view when these setbacks occur--there certainly is a history here. A disturbing streak of misfortune.

Working backward--is that somehow appropriate?--here’s the whole horrible list:

--1979. Marsh had won the biggies--the Pan American Games and the Spartakiad in the Soviet Union, and was the favorite to win the World Cup at Montreal, which is what track and field had before someone came up with the World Championships.

There, Marsh said he felt sick. He finished fourth. Soon afterward, he learned that he had mononucleosis. Out for four weeks.

--1980. A fine year. Marsh had the fastest time in the world before the Olympics. But of course Marsh, who qualified for his second Olympic team, didn’t get to go to the Games in Moscow. No American went because of the boycott.

--1981. His best season yet. At the World Cup in Rome, Marsh ran his usual race, picking off the other runners from behind and setting himself up for a frantic kick.

Marsh was running next to East German Raif Ponitzsch nearing the last water jump. Suddenly, Marsh veered around the jump then caught up with Ponitzsch and passing him at the finish line.

He was disqualified for not taking the jump. Then Marsh lost a second time during that meet, when his appeal--that Ponitzsch had forced him outside--was disallowed.

--1982. Nothing bad happened. That he can remember.

--1983. Marsh had by this time established himself as one of the best steeplechasers of all time. Still, he had to break through and win a major championship. The first World Championships in Helsinki, Finland, offered Marsh his chance.

In the steeplechase final, Marsh was in his characteristic position, last, near the end of the race. Coming off the final curve, he made his move. He passed all the runners until only Patriz Ilg of West Germany was in front of him. Marsh was gaining on Ilg, when, at the final barrier 80 meters from the finish, Marsh hit it and fell.

He got up and finished eighth.

“It was a mental mistake,” Marsh said. “I was too focused on Ilg, I didn’t pay attention to the barrier.”

Marsh injured his ribs in the fall, which made it painful for him to breathe.

Still, five days later he set another American record, 8 minutes 12.37 seconds. Henry Rono holds the world record of 8:05.4. But the lasting memory of that season was Marsh lying on the track while Ilg pulled away.

--1984. Olympic trials. This time, Marsh was set. These would be his last Olympics. Marsh did well, easily winning the trials. He told reporters then that he dedicated the win “to my wife, who is three days overdue with our third child.”

That night, Marsh didn’t get much sleep--a combination of excitement over making the Olympic team and not feeling well.

Marsh returned home the next day in time to take Suzi to the hospital. Her labor and the birth of Andrew took all night.

Marsh finally got some sleep late the next day, but when he woke he was not rested. He had something that he couldn’t shake.

It was five weeks before the Games and Marsh had to make a tough decision. He could stay in bed and probably recover, but he would be out of shape. Or, he could attempt to train through the illness, but he would run the risk of making it worse and keeping him out of the Games entirely.

He settled on a compromise course.

“I trained every other day,” he said. “One day I would go out and do my full workout. The next I would sleep all day. I knew I was really out of it then. I knew there wasn’t enough time.”

Even after the opening ceremonies Marsh was feeling ill. “I remember very clearly going on my morning runs and I’d be dizzy and feel lightheaded,” he said.

Then, on the day of the steeplechase final, more bad luck struck Marsh. If he were the kind who believed in omens, he would have seen them all day Aug. 10.

First, while Marsh was at the Coliseum preparing for his own race, he ducked inside to watch the women’s 3,000-meter final, featuring Mary Decker and Zola Budd. Decker was a friend and former training partner.

When Decker and Budd tangled and Decker fell, Marsh was understandably upset and his concentration for his own race was broken.

Later, while he was warming up for his final, he accidentally spiked himself in the calf, smashed into a hurdle and sprained his knee. Trainers looked at the knee, but as the race was about to begin, there was little they could do.

Despite all that, once the race began, Marsh ran well. He was at his customary spot near the back of the pack and feeling pretty good. Then another bizarre development occurred.

On the second lap, a man jumped from the crowd onto the track and joined the runners, following just behind Marsh. The man carried a sign that read: ‘Our Earth At Peace, One Human Family.”

Security guards hustled him off the track but he broke free and joined the runners again.

Marsh said he was aware of the commotion behind him but called it just another distraction.

That behind him, so to speak, Marsh concentrated on catching Kenya’s Julius Korir, the race leader. Marsh got to within a stride of Korir on the final straightaway, but then, uncharacteristically, began to fade.

“I came off the curve and I thought, ‘Hey, I’m gold,’ ” Marsh said. “Then Korir pulled away. Then I thought, ‘I’m silver.’ Then (Joseph) Mahmoud (of France) passed me and I thought, ‘I’m bronze.’ Then (Brian) Diemer pulled up alongside. Then I thought, ‘Oh.’ ”

Marsh finished fourth, but that was not all. He collapsed at the finish line and had to be carried out of the stadium on a stretcher. He was suffering from what doctors called extreme fatigue.

Oh yeah, on his way down during the fall, Marsh also pulled his right hamstring.

Ever one to find the bright side in a bleak situation, Marsh notes, “Hey, I still ran an 8:14. Not bad.”

Henry Marsh lives in the foothills in this town just north of Salt Lake City. To get to the Marsh home it helps if you have a four-wheel drive vehicle and Henry has left a trail of crumbs to aid in navigation.

His comfortable two-story brick home overlooks a golf course and a broad valley. The man next door, who has made a fortune in the paving business, has a huge flagpole that flies both the U.S. and Olympic flags. People assume it is Marsh who lives in the spacious Tudor home.

If they only knew. The paver probably has a serene household with skylights, overstuffed leather chairs and plenty of quiet. The paver probably doesn’t have a back yard crammed with a trampoline, a sandbox and playground-quality swing set.

No, it is not Marsh who lives the glitzy life. Marsh has made a decent living from track but he’s not fabulously rich. He’s got a family to support and that already sets him apart from many other American track athletes.

“We were always the oddballs,” Suzi Marsh said. “We were the first couple to be married, then we were the first to have kids. We could see that it was starting to happen in track, but we were the first and it was unusual.”

Odd, but helpful, too. Unlike other athletes who can afford the luxury of a self-centered life, Marsh has always had to think of more than just himself. It might have prolonged his career.

“Track is only a part of my life,” he said. “If it doesn’t go well, that’s OK. For some athletes, that’s their total measure of success. Having a family has put it all in perspective.”

The focus of Marsh’s life has never been completely on track. When he went to law school, there were those who told him the studies would hamper his training. They did not. Being able to have a life away from the track put less pressure on him and actually enhanced his training.

He has gone from working as an attorney at Salt Lake City’s most prestigious firms, to television sports personality. Marsh still works in radio, as host of a weekly show called “The Henry Marsh Fitness Corner.” He has founded Athletes Unlimited, an organization that seeks funding for amateur athletes. And he is also the director of corporate wellness for the Franklin Institute, a company that teaches time-management techniques.

It has been a good and full life for Marsh and after he runs in Seoul, that will be the end of the athletic portion of it. No more racing. If he falls, or if he gets sick, it won’t change his mind. In fact, his misadventures might have helped Marsh make up his mind to retire.

“It certainly has humbled me and made me realize I am human,” he said. “It has made me appreciate the success more and keep it all in perspective. You don’t appreciate your successes without failures.”

As he says this, the Marsh kids are popping in and out. They would be starting school the next day and the nervous energy in the house was flying. Lauren climbs on her daddy and Andrew is scribbling in a notebook another reporter has left behind. All is well.

There are no mishaps in this part of Henry Marsh’s life. No falls and no setbacks. When he returns home from Seoul, after his last meet, it’s likely to be a delightful trip to Bountiful.