Sport: Unconventional Champion

From the looks of him, New Zealand’s burly Peter Snell would seem more at home blasting holes in a football line than competing against the whippet-thin men who run the mile. His shoulders are broad, his 16½-in. calves bulge with muscle, and at 171 lbs. he weighs fully 15 lbs. more than any of his competitors. Experts scoff at his size (“If he were lighter, he could run faster”), his racing tactics (“unscientific”), his graceless running style (“like a Sherman tank with overdrive”). But they all concede that, at 23, Peter Snell is the fastest middle-distance runner in track history.

No Fluke. “I run only when I feel like it,” says Snell, and this year he is in a running mood. Despite his upset 800-meter victory over Belgium’s Roger Moens in the 1960 Olympics, Snell was still a virtual unknown last January, when he set out to run a sub4 min. mile for the first time. Against lackluster competition, over a slow grass track in the New Zealand town of Wanganui, he blazed through the mile in 3 min. 54.4 sec.—clipping a tenth of a second from Herb Elliott’s 3∧-year-old world record. At first, trackmen dismissed Snell’s performance (he ran the last quarter-mile in a withering 56.4 sec.) as a fluke. They soon learned better: within little more than a month, the New Zealander had cracked four more world marks —for the 800 meters, the 1,000 yds., and the half-mile, both outdoors and indoors.

Fortnight ago, Snell ran in the Los Angeles Coliseum Relays against two of the U.S.’s fleetest milers: Dyrol Burleson (best time: 3 min. 57.6 sec.) and Jim Grelle (3 min. 58.9 sec.). Burleson, who had beaten Snell twice before, was confident of victory, and for the first three-quarters of the race, it looked as though he might win. Snell was maintaining a 5-yd. lead, but the lanky Oregonian is well known for his finishing kick. With only an eighth of a mile to go, Snell lowered his head and started sprinting. By the time Burleson reacted, the gap was 10 yds.

“He took off like a rocket,” said Burleson later. “He just went whoosh.” Snell broke the tape in 3 min. 56.1 sec.—the fastest mile ever run in the U.S. Astonished dockers timed his last 120 yds. in 13.4 sec.—the equivalent, approximately, of a 10-sec. 100-yd. dash. Said Snell: “”I was never in doubt I would win.”

Keeping Fit. Snell never walks anywhere if he can run instead. The headmaster of Auckland’s Mount Albert Grammar School recalls a day in 1957 when Snell won two matches for the school’s tennis team, then played a starring role in a cricket match. A little later, the headmaster found him running around the school track in shorts and T shirt. “What are you doing, Snell?” he asked. “I want to keep fit, sir,” the 17-year-old replied.

Snell eats what he wants, pays no attention to his waistline, enjoys a beer after a race, and says: “The only milk I use is in my tea and on my cornflakes.” He has never been to college. “A college would have you racing week after week,” he says.

“You can’t build up a good shape like that.” Under the watchful eyes of Coach Arthur Lydiard, Snell pursues a rigorous training program. U.S. milers concentrate on calisthenics and sprints to build up their speed for finishing bursts. Snell builds up endurance by competing in 25-mile marathons, runs 100 miles a week over New Zealand’s hilly country roads, rarely runs sprints and shuns calisthenics (“They’re a waste of time”).

“Lydiard tries for a breakthrough in stamina,” explains rival Oregon Coach Bill Bowerman. “When a runner like Snell works very hard, he reaches a point where he begins to ache in his joints. The pain is enormous. When that happens, most coaches ease off. Lydiard just keeps him working harder and harder—until he becomes insensitive to the pain.” So far, Snell’s masochistic training regimen has paid off: when he finished his record-breaking mile in Wanganui, he was hardly panting.