by George Hirsch  Grete Waitz, the most private of individuals, ended up excelling in the most public of sports, marathon racing. She ran past millions of cheering, hand-extending New Yorkers on the way to breaking the finish line tape in Central Park nine times. Moments later, she faced the swarming news media.       

She was approachable, easygoing and even funny in interviews. New Yorkers grew to love Grete, a down-to-earth, humble Norwegian, and reporters actually looked forward to their annual marathon date with her.       

Cancer was a different deal. She drew a firm line in 2005 when she learned she had the disease. She gave no details, not even identifying the type of cancer she had.     

  

“I look at this as something that concerns me and my family and no one else,” she said. “You know the day that I beat it, then I will talk about it.”       

Sadly, that day never came. Grete died at 57 in Oslo April 13, 2011.      

In 1978, on her first visit to New York, the 25-year-old Grete had slipped into town quietly. No fanfare, no flashbulbs, no limo. And little idea where she was, or what she was supposed to do. In a Felliniesque scene at the start on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, she sought the race director, Fred Lebow, tugged on his pants and said, “Mr. Lebow, where do I stand?”       

Through his megaphone, Fred shouted, “Women and first-timers to the left!” Then he changed his mind, “No, to the right!”       

Grete must have felt almost panicky among the 8,937 runners. She had never run a race longer than about 12.5 miles, never mind 26.2 miles. Yet a little more than 2 hours 32 minutes later, she had set the women’s marathon world record.       

I finished several minutes later and was introduced to Grete. Before I could congratulate her on the record, she asked about my race. When I told her I had run a personal best, she seemed as happy for me as she did for herself. I remember thinking how incredibly cool and composed she was in the midst of all the hoopla.       

A year later she returned to New York as the favorite, and set another world record, 2:27:33. The ensuing years brought more records, championship trophies and increasing fame.   

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We were lucky enough to have Grete and her family with us one Christmas back in the early 80's. She came out to be part of National Running Week. She was at the top of the world then, yet she was the nicest person ever. I will never forget the training run we did together! Thanks George for sharing this with us.
Bob Anderson 2/15/12 8:47 pm

I wanted to run against her in the five miler that year but came down with the flu. I doubt I would have beaten her. I just wanted to line up with the elite runners and be in the same race with her,
Richard Stiller 2/15/12 8:49 pm

That was so special to have Grete out here for our 5 miler New Years Eve in Los Altos...wished we could have kept that race going!!! It was a great way to start off the new year...
Bob Anderson 2/16/12 10:28 am

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Her victories carried ever-higher expectations, especially for the first women’s Olympic marathon at the 1984 Los Angeles Games. Waitz was the favorite, but a day before the race the American Joan Benoit overheard her talking with her physiotherapist.       

“You know how Grete was always on guard, playing her cards close to her chest?” Joan told me last week. “Well, she mentioned back spasms, and I sensed a vulnerability.”       

So Joan pushed hard from the start, opened a big lead on a hot day and never relinquished it. Grete finished second but set the gold standard for grace and sportsmanship. The next day the two rivals, now friends for life, sat together in the Olympic stadium.       

In 1992, Grete ran her last New York City Marathon to help Fred, whose brain cancer was in remission, realize his dream to run and finish his own marathon. Although running at a painfully slow pace, she covered every inch of the course with him, coaching, encouraging and crying at the end. Their five-and-a-half-hour run through the city remains the emotional high point in the marathon’s history.       

Two years after receiving her cancer diagnosis, Grete helped start Aktiv Mot Kreft, or Active Against Cancer, the Livestrong of Norway. When she died, the organization’s manager, Helle Aanesen, said, “She wanted the least possible attention to her own illness, but worked tirelessly to the very end to help others.”       

One of those was my wife, Shay, who also has cancer. Our long friendship with Grete only deepened in the last five years.       

We followed her treatments and daily regimen, which often included one-hour treadmill workouts. Shay and Grete would see each other several times a year, and quickly fall into conversation about chemotherapy and radiation, the power of positive expectations and wigs. Always wigs.       

“Cancer was the bridge that allowed Grete to let me cross over and get closer to her,” Shay said. “When we met and hugged, it was a real embrace that said so much.”       

Last Monday, Joan ran the Boston Marathon  in 2:51, amazing for a 53-year-old. She did not know that Grete was dying. But when I talked to her several days later, Samuelson recalled a gust of wind that assisted her late in the race.       

“It gave me a big push when I most needed it,” she said. “Looking back on it now, I think it must have been Grete saying, ‘Keep it going, Joanie, not just today but for life itself.’ ”       

Hours later, Grete died in Oslo, with her beloved husband, Jack, by her side, as always. I spoke with him the next day.       

“She was Grete to the end, still more concerned about me than about herself,” he noted with a slight chuckle. “On Friday night after I left the hospital, she called me at home to make sure I had enough milk.”       

He pledged to run the New York City Marathon this November.       

“I will run in honor of Grete,” he said.       

So will many others.