Prolific marathoners reveal their secret -- take it slow

The Brookville Reunion Marathon is perhaps less a race than a good walk, unspoiled by golf or anything else -- a good, 26.2-mile walk -- followed by repast at Rob's Restaurant, "the best dinner buffet around" in the little southwestern Ohio town.

Brookville is more about old friends reuniting, friends who happen to be marathon titans. Some years, Norm Frank, the all-time leader in North American marathons, comes. So has the Canadian leader, the Michigan leader and so on.

At this year's marathon in August, Denny Fryman and Don McNelly were there. They always are. They're Brookville High School alumni, after all, who also happen to be No. 2 and No. 3 in career marathons in North America. It was Fryman's 760th marathon on his 60th birthday; McNelly's 725th. Jerry Herndon, West Virginia's all-time leader with 600-plus marathons, was also there.

Between the three of them, their marathons have covered 55,000 miles, or in a relay, better than twice around the equator. Fryman took his first step on that path when he graduated from college during the Vietnam War and joined the Army Reserves. He knew he was going to need to run in basic training so he started jogging and worked up to longer runs: 5K, 10K, half-marathon. "People were always bugging me, 'When are you going to do a marathon?' " Fryman said. "So I said I was going to run one marathon, and get it out of my system."

Who knew one system could have so many marathons? "I wanted to finish, and do it by 4 hours -- I think if I had broken 4 hours I probably would've quit, but I was at 4:12. The next time, I was 5 minutes slower, 4:17, then 4:22. I thought, 'I'm going in the wrong direction.' I thought, 'One more, one more.' "

Fryman then met Sy Mah, a Korea-born University of Toledo professor who mentored countless runners. Mah worked with Fryman, but he also told him, " 'Denny, you don't have speed.' Tell me about it. 'But you have the temperament and patience to make the marathon your best distance.'

"Here's what he taught me: I asked him what his favorite race was, and he said, 'My next one. Always stay hungry. Always plan your next one.' "

The late Mah taught him more than that. "I was always slow. People would ask, 'What time you going to finish, Denny?' And I'd say, 'What time does it get dark?' But Sy told me the guys worried about times will burn out."

So, for decades, Fryman's played tortoise to the hares on life's journey. Because of his background Mah believed "run for sheer joy, run more like children," Fryman said. "I've finished dead last, and been on a high. I'd drive home and think, 'What a great experience!' "

Fryman said he has noticed in recent years "more attention to the back of the pack runners": more walkers and charity participants. Nationally, those finishing marathons in more than 6 hours comprised about 11 percent of the total last year, according to Running USA's Road Running Information Center. In some places, such as Honolulu, they make up 40 percent of the field.

Fryman had a hernia last summer that slowed him further. And he now has a condition in which he must regularly eat protein, so he takes peanut butter sandwiches on marathons. "I run and walk. I still have some problems from my surgery. It used to be, 'you never walk, never walk.' "

His best ever was a 3:31 in the 1980s. It typically takes two hours or more longer now. But he wants to run 20 marathons a year for as long as he can, a pace kept by McNelly, which Fryman finds inspirational. "Mentally, one of my biggest fears is some kind of disease or injury... it's such a large part of my life I would have to adjust."

McNelly, 86 years old, doesn't even want to think about that. "I've never considered giving it up. I have not and will not. I realize some day may come -- but, as long as I can ... no matter the time."

Like Fryman, the time has never been important, less so in the past five years, since he gave in to walking. His best was 3:51 in 1971. Now it's more like 8:51.

"It was very hard to give up (running it), the psychology of it... you feel more like a runner. I'd rather run. But this is more prudent. I always enjoy the finish but... I enjoy the whole thing. It takes a lot of time, but if you're doing what you want to do, I think that's what time is for," said McNelly, who lives in Rochester, N.Y. "I tried golf. I'm not any good at it."

McNelly at presstime was at 726 marathons and counting. And he is counting. "I'm addicted. I have a streak going--I want 727, 728. I have the world record for the most after turning 80."

He does short runs between marathons. His goal is 100 miles a month. When it's suggested that's impressive, he says, "I'm embarrassed. It's not enough."

Asked the key to the longevity, the 210-pound McNelly -- who likens himself to a Mack truck -- says: "My theory is that I was blessed to be born big and slow. I never got caught up in the competition. I never remotely considered the possibility of winning a marathon. I'm blessed. I'm slow. I'm a lucky guy."

May not seem like a slogan to live by, but tough to argue with the results. "It's made me much healthier. I'm 86. Most of my contemporaries are not around. Those who are use walkers and canes. I'm not putting them down. I'm just very fortunate."

McNelly actually took up running because, "I had a buddy who had a heart attack and died without warning, without my OK. It shocked me." He took a newfound interest in his health. A doctor told him he needed to lose weight. The doctor was a runner and got McNelly hooked.

His son went to MIT and his daughter to Boston University, and they talked about the Boston Marathon. His son was in a fraternity along the course. And so in 1969, before there was a time requirement, McNelly ran Boston for his first marathon. Asked how he did, he said, "I finished."

He has run Boston 30 times, twice as a legal participant. He's also run in all 50 states and numerous countries. Many vacations have revolved around marathons, sometimes with his wife, Phyllis. "If it's a good place, she'll come along," he said. There was the European trip with marathons in London and Paris. "She sure went on that one."

Don and Phyllis have been married 65 years. Between them and Denny and Dorann Fryman, there's about 100 years of marriage. (An underrated key maybe to a long marriage, knowing when to run really far?)

Marathons gave these folks friends the world over. But, after Brookville, at Rob's Restaurant, it's about old friends, Fryman said. "We shoot the breeze almost like it's our first marathon. We're like little kids." The old teacher, Mah, would surely approve. "Denny's Playtime," Dorann calls the marathons.

And if, with each year, playtime lasts a bit longer, it's not such a bad thing.