Bart Yasso
(Bart and I)
You know those times when you’re so frustrated with work or
fed up with co-workers and clients that you want to violently hurl your laptop
through the nearest office window? This story is absolutely not about that.
I am fortunate enough to experience a number of perks
working at Garmin’s in-house ad agency, none of which have surpassed the
events of this past weekend. In preparation for the Garmin Marathon (In The
Land of Oz) – a small-ish race that starts and finishes at Garmin HQ in Olathe –
our fitness PR guru, Justin, threw a Hail Mary. Miraculously, when the end-zone
scrum had cleared, running legend Bart Yasso was left cradling the ball, good
for an easy six points.
Next thing you know, I found myself sharing stories at a
nice restaurant with a group of six co-workers and some guy who has run
marathons on all seven continents. Bart agreed to help out with PR for the event, and even run the marathon.
If you’re still not sure who he is and wanted to finish this post before googling
his name, I’ll help you out. Actually, Bart will help you out. Here’s his
welcome statement, directly pulled from his website:
Many runners tell me
quite simply I have the greatest job in the world. I get to travel to races
around the world and meet runners of all abilities. Let me reiterate I get to
meet thousands of runners with some amazing stories. For me running has also been
a vehicle of introduction to people, places, cultures, and animals. I have run
on all seven continents, but it's not the details of the races I recall it's
the people I meet.
And that’s it. The dude runs. Officially he works for the
niche publication, Runner’s World. His job title is CRO – Chief Running Officer.
No lie. He has no boss. He has no job description. Fans refer to him as “The
Mayor of Running”. Every year, marathon newbie’s curse his name as they pump
out half-mile reps completing his infamous marathon training program, the "Yasso 800's". He doesn’t need business cards –
you either know who he is, or you don’t get it.
Since he’s been at Runner’s World, they’ve been quite literally sending him
all over the world to participate in running events; some challenging, some
quirky and some downright insane. He arrives. He meets and greets. He runs. He reports back. He flies to the
next destination. To say he’s nomadic is an understatement. As you can tell by
his intro, he views running as the medium through which he can experience
different cultures, visit amazing and remote destinations, and learn and be
inspired by the many individuals who
lace up next to him. He personifies the beauty of a sport where amateurs and professionals participate side-by-side - opportunities that simply don't exist in other athletic realms.
The man is full of some amazing stories, and eager to share them. At
dinner, upon meeting him for the first time, he had the table hanging on his
every word. Same went for his speech the next day in Garmin’s auditorium, where
he presented slide after slide of footage from the far reaches of the globe,
each image with an equally compelling story accompanying it. Look no further than Bart for proof that running does not have to be boring. Some of the
highlights and hilarious anecdotes:
He began by speaking about who motivates him – a female Ironman
(Ironwoman?) triathlete with a prosthetic leg who competes and travels the world giving motivational speeches; and a young man who runs marathons
now, but was years earlier pronounced dead multiple times when in a coma induced by a traumatic heart injury. He
sees them regularly, goes out of his way to gush about how they inspire him, yet
they still find it incredible that the Mayor of Running looks up to them.
Penguin crap is the foulest smelling scent on Earth, and
impossible to get out of clothes. But you should definitely waddle close-up to
the beautiful animals if you can - the pictures you capture make it worth the experience.
Antarctica is the toughest continent on which to run a
marathon. You have to take a Soviet-era tanker just to get to the starting
line. And oh yeah, it's freezing out there.
If you run a marathon in the Himalayas, there’s no good
parking near the starting line. That's because it takes twelve (yes, 12) freaking days
to arrive there. On foot. And yes…the walk is up-hill in the snow. It is
Everest, after all.
(Taking it in, at Everest basecamp)
The editors at Runner’s World sent him to the Bare Buns
Fun Run in Spokane where, naturally, everyone runs in the buff. That wasn’t
the oddest part though; the oddest part came when he was asked to speak at the pre-race pasta dinner, and
arrived to a full house of runners carbo-loading at banquet tables…naked. So he addressed the crowd…naked.
He assumed there’d be a podium behind which he could hide his behind, but there
was not. Luckily he did not come home with the medal for – in his words – “smallest
in my age group”.
He was one of six individuals to inaugurate the Badwater
Ultra 146, a grueling ultra race in Death Valley that began at 282 feet
below sea level and ended at 14,496 feet atop Mount Whitney, with the
thermometer topping out at 120 degrees. What???
In Africa, a friend invited him on a “scouting run” for a
course he wanted to turn into an official race. Skeptical, due in large part to
the close proximity of lions, tigers, rhino’s and other wild African mammalia, he agreed to
accompany his long-time pal. A few miles in they reached an opening in the trail
and found themselves face-to-face with a smirking rhino. The photographer
tailing them took two photos: One of Bart and his friend on the receiving end
of a vicious rhino stare, nostrils flaring, and another, similar photo, minus
Bart, who had hauled ass out of there. Didn’t even look back to see if his buddy was safe.
Touring in Iraq where hundreds of soldiers, hungry for distraction,
participated in a marathon with him while still in full military training gear (boots and all), just
to say they ran with a legend. They had to report to duty immediately after the race, but still chose to run, just to have a small slice of Americana. He also went up in Chinook helicopters and those
large military planes, strapped in next to soldiers with large automatic weapons, looking for bad guys. (Bart gets special props for referencing the movie Con
Air when describing how the planes flew long distances with the large cargo
doors open).
In India, if you’re asked to participate in the opening ceremony
of a cricket match, it’s nothing at all like throwing the first pitch of a
baseball game. Not considering you have to put on pads and stand with a trembling
cricket bat on the receiving end of a seven foot behemoth Indian pitcher, who
is whipping a tiny unforgiving ball directly at you (so you have a better
chance of making contact). All made scarier when it’s a grudge match between
India and Pakistan, with over 110,000 fans trying to figure out what exactly
this guy is the mayor of.
Another crazy assignment - he once ran a 10k with a burro named Taco Bell. It pulled
him to four and a half mile splits for the first half of the race, then stopped suddenly,
forcing him to haul Taco Bell fighting tooth and nail the rest of the way. For
added authenticity, the starter’s pistol was some dude who rode up on a horse and
fired a shotgun in the air.
Favorite country to visit and run in is South Africa. He
stayed away during Apartheid, but has visited multiple times since. He
considers the 55 mile Comrades run his last great race, one he completed in
2010, at 54 years and battling chronic Lyme disease. Those who
miss the cut are literally shut out of the stadium in which the race finishes –
the gates are closed and locked. Nelson Mandela will go out to console the first few runners who are left outside. It's significance to the culture and heritage of South Africa means more to the country than the Boston Marathon means to the US. Bart completed the race in time, and so did his wife…but she beat him by
over an hour.
(At the Comrades run in South Africa)
Not a one-trick pony, he’s completed five Ironman competitions
(swim 2.4 miles/bike 112 miles/run26.2 miles, try not to die) and cycled across
the US unsupported and by himself. Twice.
Listening to Bart talk is like watching VH1 Storytellers,
but instead of drugs, depression and humor, there’s running, inspiration and
humor. Our three mile pre-race shake-out
jog was pure joy; never have a larger group of runners gone so slow, yet completed
the activity so fulfilled by the experience. He holds court wherever he goes:
at dinner, speaking in front of large groups, jogging in groups. He was born for
this.
The man was a rock star at the marathon, completely in his
element. He finished in just over four hours with no one around him, yet the
moment he crossed the finish line, he was the center of attention. He was
approached no less than three times before he could exit the finisher’s tape
and chug some water. He reserved the same grin/smile for everyone, proudly
displaying his Garmin Marathon scarecrow medal and “Had a Wicked Good Time”
finisher’s shirt for all to see.
(Jake, Justin and Bart, post-race)
He ate chicken sandwiches and drank beers like the rest of
us, sitting shoeless in the open area well after his race ended. When finishers
crossed the line six hours after the marathon began, Bart was there to clap for
them. The man was living it up, genuinely enjoying himself, the unofficial
master of ceremonies. Which is precisely why I imagine there’s no one at Runner’s
World angling for his job. He’s the guy in your office that says he has “a
dream job”, except for the fact that Bart actually has his dream job. That guy doesn't.
If I learned one thing from The Mayor of Running during his
visit to Garmin, it’s that I have a total man-crush on him. It’s hard not to. His
presence, confidence, the stories he tells, the places he’s visited, the
bizarre and extreme races he’s conquered, the people he’s met…the fact that he
spends his life flying all over the world, doing what he loves, advocating for
his cause. The man’s an inspiration. You can’t meet the guy and not want to do
something better and more fulfilling with your life. I’m sure he’s left
thousands of people, if not more, feeling this same way. And that’s why he’s so
good at what he does.
True to form, he was one of the very last people to
leave the marathon, well after the final four finishers walked across the
finish line, having completed their first ever 26.2. As Justin drove away with
him in the passenger seat, he rolled down the window, summoned the race
director and left us with these final words of wisdom:
“I have to apologize to you. I was busted peeing on a
side-trail of the course. Somebody tweeted about it”.
True story...
To read more of Bart Yasso’s great stories, by someone who
writes way better than I do, here’s a link to his website and book: http://www.bartyasso.com/
For more on Bart’s appearance at the Garmin Marathon: Wicked Good Time
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