If you are an amateur runner like me you’ve probably heard of John Franks Galloway, who died this week at the age of 80 following complications from a stroke.
Better known as “Jeff,” he was an inspiration to generations of runners and a democratizing force within the field of competition.
He was himself an elite runner. An All-American collegiate athlete and a 1972 US Olympic Team member who competed in the 10,000 meters.
In high school, Galloway recorded bests of 4:28 in the mile and 9:48 in the two-mile, becoming Georgia State Champion in the latter event.
Running for Wesleyan University, he developed as a competitor, earning All-American honors in track and cross-country, clocking 4:12 in the mile. He was on the 1966 Wesleyan cross-country team along with Amby Burfoot and later Bill Rodgers.
In 1970, Galloway became the first winner of the Peachtree Road Race in Atlanta, Georgia, a race he directed for many years.
But it was perhaps his mid-70s training alteration — emphasizing more rest and fewer miles per week, coupled with a long run every other week — that made him a legend. It was a strategy that proved successful in extending his competitive career through his 70s and would have likely kept him running marathons well into his 80s. And it was a method that could be replicated by amateurs and newcomers to long-distance running.
The Galloway method consists of short bursts of running paired with planned intervals of walking – sometimes as little as 30 seconds of running paired with 30 seconds of walking for the entire duration of the race. The method reduces fatigue, boosts endurance, and prevents injury.
Not only did Galloway’s method encourage casual runners, it also proved that competitive athletes could preserve their health without compromising their overall pace. Not to mention that it helped all athletes preserve their ability to run even at advanced ages.
The Galloway Method gave us back-of-the-packers an elegant and trusted way to make it to the finish line, and it also gave us the steel we sometimes needed to feel like “real athletes.”
Walking wasn’t a weakness; it was a measurable strength.
We Galloway aficionados know from the miles of history contained in our GPS watches that we often come in close to our no-walk averages and sometimes beat our personal bests on race day when we take walk breaks.
With Galloway’s coaching, we didn’t have to defend ourselves with any of the few loud-mouthed braggards we might overhear professing that “real runners don’t walk.” We didn’t even feel bad.
When I spoke to some of my friends about the news of Galloway’s life and influence, so many of them credited him with keeping them in the race for the long haul.
We had made a choice to run in a way that supported our future as runners.
And not only did that feel good, it felt like a secret weapon that one day they would benefit from, too.
My only sadness is that Mr. Galloway didn’t get to complete the 80th-year marathon he would have aced.
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