Walt Stack's advice on running a marathon.

Before becoming the world's most famous senior-citizen distance runner, Walt Stack 
(who died in 1995 at age 87) first got into shape the old fashioned way: He worked 
as a hod carrier, ferrying supplies to bricklayers, stonemasons, and the like on his
broad shoulders. But in 1965, at 57, he decided that eight daily hours of hard labor 
just wasn't enough. So he ran the first of what would eventually become 62,000
lifetime miles, crafting a highly visible training routine that made him a San Francisco 
institution - though many a Bay Area commuter was heard to mutter that he instead 
should've been committed to one. "I'm going to do this till I get planted," he'd say, 
and indeed he nearly did. Every day for 27 years, until sidelined by failing health in 
1993, Stack would set out on his bike and ride the six hilly miles from his Potrero Hill 
home to Fisherman's Wharf. There he'd strip off his shirt - to display the tattoos of 
peacocks, wild horses, and bathing beauties muraled across his broad, rawhide 
chest - and run over the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito and back, 17 miles. Next, 
Stack would jump into the Bay near Alcatraz Island (sometimes accompanied by
sharks) for a one-mile swim in choppy water he called "colder than a landlord's heart." 
Perhaps even more impressive than his daily routine, however - and a timeless reality 
check for those who may feel compelled to boast of their fitness exploits - was the 
perspective with which he viewed it. "All this work I'm doing," Stack once said in the
midst of a bridge crossing, "it don't mean shit." 

With inspiration for all who dared
(The grubby jokes were never spared.)

Len and Buck and Ruth and Stu
And Sister Marion, they all knew

Walt, with several minor flaws
Unique-a rebel with a cause.

Those who didn't run or soar
With Walt beside the Bay missed more

Than just a legend in our time;
But also lost the chance to climb

With winged feet the heights of charm
With Walt, whose character so warm 

Is with us still throughout the land,
On mountain trail, along the sand.
                                       J.L.

     At the DSE races, Walt was a frequent master of ceremonies and presenter of ribbons to the top finishers and you never know quite what to expect.  At one of the Sunday races there was a runner named Gail Gustufson who had been training for an important marathon and was doing quite well.  She mentioned that she intended to finish in a time that everyone who know her thought was unrealistic.

     Well, Walt heard about the prediction and after handing out ribbons one morning, he said, "I hear Gail's going to break a record in the marathon next week.  Come now Gail, if you run that fast, I'll kiss your ass at the Ferry Building at high noon and give you an hour to draw a crowd!"  Laughter broke out and the gauntlet had been thrown.

     Now to everyone's surprise Gail ran the race in the time she had predicted.  So the next week when Walt went up to present ribbons, people were calling out that Gail would be at the Ferry Building at noon, and Walt was expected to be there.

     As noon rolled around a huge crowd of runners gathered along with some curious tourists and other spectators.  Of course we were wondering what would happen and how would Walt handle it?

     What only a few people knew, was that Gail and a friend had rented a jackass costume and ere off in a hiding place.  As Walt walked up, the "animal" appeared, turned, and directed its hindquarters toward Walt.  In the typical Walt Stack style, he walked over an planted a big kiss on its behind.  Then Gail and the friend stepped out of the costume to roaring laughter and shouts.  God only knows what would have happened if she had actually dropped her shorts!  Anyway, there was one heck of a party afterwards.
                                                                                            Logan Franklin

     It began back when Walt co-sponsored me into the Dolphin Swimming Club in 1970 so that I could qualify to swim the Golden Gate.  On my first attempt, I got ever so close to the finish line at Lime Rock on the Marin shore but the tide had other ideas and I got washed away.  Actually I think I swam perfectly-Lime Rock is what got swept out to sea.  Needless to say, there was much celebrating the following year when I hit that slimy rock right on the bull's eye.  I even brought back some moss from its surface for proof and today it still stands encased in plastic on my trophy shelf.

     I also reflect on the great trips on the uses we chartered for the Avenue of the Giants Marathon.  Walt really was the life of the party.  His jokes and stories were often a bit off color but he never offended people who were sensitive if he knew there world be a problem.  He got quite wild at times but always a real gentleman when it was appropriate.

     Thank you Walt for all you gave to the running community, and for all you gave me as the first blind runner in our club.  Thanks to Walt, I have always felt welcome.

     P.S.  Walt Stack single handedly set in motion a fund-raiser to send me to my first Boston Marathon in 1971.
                                                                                            Harry Cordellos

     However, for me, there was so much more to the man than the obvious.  In spite of his transgressions, and there were many, he was both proud and ashamed.  The DSE may have been his unconscious and convoluted way of fulfilling atonement and compassion.  Behind his overt personality and extremes, he had that special stamp of manliness on which he stood up for his beliefs and gave accountability for a life of adventure and misadventure.

     Walt and I came from worlds apart.  It was as if we had each flown in as space aliens from different planets for our Sunday DSE runs.  Somehow we became dear friends in spite of our mutual dislike of the other's convictions and affiliations.

     A saint he wasn't but he stood by his friends, labored honestly in the field of human suffering, and took his responsibilities seriously.  Could anyone have asked more of him?  I doubt it.  I think of him daily and wonder what he could say about each of us if he were writing this?
                                                                                              Len Wallach

     We had a brief rehearsal but come the morning of the wedding, as we were going over everything one last time, we realized that Walt was much more nervous than we were.  On inquiring why, we discovered that in fact he had done this only once before and wasn't at all sure about getting it right.  By now and with guests already assembled, it was too late to make any changes and so throughout the ceremony we held our breath and crossed out fingers hoping that he wouldn't get lost, wouldn't come out with one of his pithy phrases or suddenly digress into one of his infamous stories, a potential disaster since our out-of-town relatives had never met of experienced anyone like him before.

     But all went smoothly; a few pauses were anxious moments for us but he restrained himself and got through them successfully without launching into some raunchy comment and everyone present had a good time.  Unlike the first wedding he conducted, this one had lasted through many years-so clearly he did good work!  Later he went on to conduct marriages for a number of other runners and was pleased and proud that he was a part of so many happy occasions.
                                                                                              Theo Jones

     Walt stayed president for about 15-20 years, and then passed on the helm.  But he continued to attend most of the races, and still ran, and most important deply cared about the club.

     We have probably had about 10,000 runners pass "thru our doors", and a spark for most of them was probably Walt Stack.  Even at the age range of 70-80, he did more marathons and 50 milers than anyone I know.  He beat me in 2 marathons, passing me in the last 3 miles both times.  What energy!  One time we did a 50 miler on a Saturday and then ran a marathon the following Sunday.  I passed him at about the 15 mile mark and he shouted, "You're an animal Stratta!" at which I shouted back, "What do you claim to be-Human?!"  Walt laughed at that one, as we had always laughed at his many crude jokes.

    Walt will forever have it, and we are his children.  It will certainly be a beautiful memorial to a great man.  There will never be another Walt.
                                                                                            Tony Stratta