Ellen Caughey - Running to Win: The Story of Eric Liddell

2022 by Barbour Publishing, Inc.

Print ISBN 978-1-64352-527-3

Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63609-398-7

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All scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

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STOKE-ON-TRENT, ENGLAND, JULY 1923

The runners were lining up in their positions on the cinder track. Although no lines were drawn to show them where to be, these men had been in enough races to give each other the space needed.

At least for the moment.

Eric Liddell of Scotland, age twenty-one, known as the Flying Scotsman, had received a good position, just one spot to the right of the most inside lane. All runners wanted that coveted inside position, especially during the race. Whoever ran there didnt have to run as far, for one thing. And, of course, if no one was ahead of you, you would likely win the race.

To win this race meant a great deal. The winner today would earn a place on Great Britains Olympic team and the chance to race in Paris next summer.

Smoothing back his thinning blond hair, Eric glanced to his right and smiled. He knew by name all the runners here, men from England, Scotland, and Ireland, including the man tying his shoes next to him. J. J. Gillies was one of Englands best runners, and the favorite to win this 440-yard race. Earlier that day Eric had won the 100- and 220-yard races. No one expected him to win three races on the same day.

As he did with all the runners in every race, Eric offered his hand to J. J. and shook it. But instead of saying, Good luck, Eric said, Best wishes for the race.

Eric didnt believe in luck. To him, all things happened for a reason.

Reaching in his coat pocket for a small shovel, Eric then returned to his starting place. Carefully, he carved out of the cinder track two small holes, just the size of the toes of his shoes. When the race began, Eric would need these holes to help launch himself into the race. Most runners brought their own shovels to races. They had practiced carving just the right-sized holesnot too big and not too smallso they could get their best start.

As the runners began to take off their outer apparel of coats and long pants and throw them on the grass, the race official with his flowing white coat made the long-awaited walk toward the track. Clearing his throat, he proclaimed, Runners, take your marks!

Eric felt his heart start to beat faster as he crouched down and placed the toes of his shoes in the holes. He knew he was a poor starter and would have to run as hard as he could to finish in the top three. But he would never have another start quite like this!

Out of the corner of his eye, Eric could see J. J. Gillies. J. J. was looking at that inside lane, bordered by a wooden railing. As the seconds ticked by, J. J.s eyes became like slits. J. J. is determined to win, Eric thought. Are my legs strong enough to give him a race?

With the small starting pistol in hand, the official raised his arm into the sky. On the count of three, gentlemen, and then the gun will sound. Seconds seemed like minutes to the racers until the official spoke again. One, two, three Bang! The report of the gun shattered the nerve-wrenching stillness.

The runners arched bodies exploded forward until they straightened, their legs and arms making them go faster and faster.

Fifteen yards into the race, J. J. Gillies made his movethe move he had plotted in his head minutes earlier. But instead of waiting for an opening, J. J. cut right in front of Eric! In a second, Eric felt himself lose his balance and go flying into the wooden railingand then roll over two times onto the grass. Eric sat up and shook himself, then blinked his eyes. Across the track someone was calling his name and pointing a finger at the track. Then another voice demanded his attention.

Get up, get up! yelled two race officials, waving their arms wildly. Youre still in the race!

Eric couldnt believe it. But he didnt have time to ask why. Scrambling to his feet, he hurdled the railing onto the track. By this time, even the slowest runner was twenty yards ahead of him. There is no way, Eric thought, unless it is Gods will.

And then Eric started running. First, he began swinging his arms so they looked like two very active windmills. Then his fists started punching the air in front of him, as if the air were holding him back. When his legs really started moving, Eric raised his knees high, as if he were leading a marching band. And finally, to make himself go even faster, Eric threw back his head, his chin up, his eyes looking to the sky.

Yard after yard, Eric began to catch the pack of runners. His arms punching him forward even harder, Eric, to the amazement of the crowd, was now in fourth place. But he was still ten yards behind the leader, J. J. Gillies.

Even though Eric was from Scotland and was most loudly cheered by Scots, now everyone started cheering and shouting his name. No one could believe what they were seeing.

Forty yards to go, Liddell! one man shouted to Eric as he overtook the third-place runner. Forty yards, two runners to pass. He couldnt feel his arms or his legs. He could barely take a breath. Forty yards seemed like forty kilometers to him. But he would not stop.

Again, he willed his arms to punch harder, his knees to lift higher, his arms to swing faster. As he neared the finish line, Eric threw out his chest and flung back his head one more timeand passed J. J. Gillies to win the race. Eric Liddell had won the 440-yard race by two whole yards.

Eric had used everything he had to win the race. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath. Someone offered him a swig of brandy, but he shook his head adamantly. Motioning to the one who had offered him refreshment, he whispered, Perhaps a cup of tea?

All too soon, the extremely winded Scottish runner found himself surrounded by the crowd. There were race officials, college friends, reporters and photographers from the local newspapers, and even children. He could only nod or smile at their questions. They were asking him about the Olympics, about his training program, about his next race. Did he know Gillies before? What would he say to him when he saw him? Everyone could see that Gillies had pushed him off the track.