To Heal a Broken Soul

Billy Mills (left) and Mohammed Gammoudi, 1964

Last week, the global governing body for track and field announced that athletes who win gold medals at this year’s Olympics in Paris will receive prizes of $50,000. This marks another shovelful of dirt on the grave of amateur athletics.

Although the idea was always a myth, there seemed something noble about competing just for fun. In fact, amateurism restricted competition and gave rise to widespread cheating. The rule was still strictly enforced through the 1960s, at least in some countries.

I competed in cross country and various distance events in high school. I know the sensation of legs that turn to tulip stems in the last stage of the race, the oxygen hunger that screams at a stubborn brain to come to its senses.

For spectators, track can provide moments of surprising intensity and excitement. As runners approach the finish, something hard to define allows one of them to prevail. The thrill of a distance race comes not from spectacle, but from watching men and women, pitted against each other in the most basic way, reach within themselves and draw on reserves of will, strength, guts, spirit — call it what you will.

One such moment happened sixty years ago this summer. It involved a young man named Billy Mills. He had been born twenty-six years earlier on the Pine Ridge Ogala Lakota Reservation in South Dakota. His tribal name was Makoce Te'Hila, “Respects the Earth.” He grew up amid poverty. His mother died when he was nine. His father told him to deal with his grief by leaving behind hurt, hate, jealousy, and self-pity. “Go way down deep, where the dreams lie.” That was the way, he said, “to heal a broken soul.”

Four years, Billy’s father died. The youngster was sent to a boarding school called the Haskell Institute, a Bureau of Indian Affairs facility that pushed tribal children to assimilate. He fought loneliness and severe depression.

Mills did well enough in cross country to win a scholarship to the University of Kansas. There he was a three-time all-American. He joined the Marine Corps after graduating and began to train more intensively. At the trials for the 1964 Olympics, he finished second, making the team for the 10,000-meter event. That summer, he went to Japan to pursue his dream.

No one expected Mills to be a contender in the race. He was going up against Australian Ron Clarke, the world record holder and one of the dominant distance runners of his time. Among the other elite competitors was Mohammad Gammoudi, a Tunisian who had emerged as a top prospect at the distance, one with a fearsome finishing kick.

The runners would complete twenty-five grueling laps around a 400-meter track, running for the better part of half an hour and covering more than six miles. Race day was rainy and the cinder track soft, making the effort even greater. An unwieldy pack of thirty-eight runners started the race. Some of the men were lapped once or even twice by the lead runners, who had to navigate through the slower competitors.

After the start, the field quickly spread out around the track. Only a small group was able to keep pace with Clarke. It included Gammoudi and Mills. As the bell rang for the last lap, Mills momentarily took the lead away from Clarke. The Australian quickly regained it, then pushed Mills toward an outer lane to get around a runner they were lapping. Mills stumbled but fell back in on Clarke’s shoulder.

A moment later, Gammoudi shoved between the two leaders and surged out in front. He outpaced Clarke. Mills fell back and seemed finished. Coming around the final turn and down the last straight, Clarke struggled to reel in Gammoudi. But with fifty meters to go, it was Mills who exploded.

“I could not hear any noise at all,” he later remembered. “Only my heart pounding. My vision was coming and going.” Sweeping out to the middle of the track, he pumped his arms, lifted his knees, and surged toward the tape. He beat Gammoudi by four-tens of a second and set an Olympic record. Clarke finished a second later.

Mills, Gammoudi, and Clarke at the finish

It was the most spectacular upset in Olympic history. Billy Mills remains the only American ever to win the Olympic 10,000 meters. For him, it was not about money, or about promotions and endorsements. He had gone down deep. He had made his dream a reality.

In the years that followed, Mills helped found Running Strong for American Indian Youth, a nonprofit that teaches youngsters a healthy lifestyle. He has traveled the country for decades, talking about his life, instilling in native youths respect, pride and an appreciation of their heritage. In 2012, President Obama awarded him the Presidential Citizens Medal, the nation’s second highest civilian honor.

Billy Mills — Makoce Te'Hila — will turn eighty-six this year. He continues to share his dream and to fight for the rights and dignity of his people.

To watch an awesome video of the race, click HERE.

Learn more about Running Strong for American Indian Youth HERE.
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