Wanganui, 27 Jan 1962

Story by: Peter Snell

By 9.15 p.m. it was apparent that the programme was hopelessly behind schedule so we asked the meeting manager if he would break into the order of events to allow us to get under way on time. After consultation, he agreed.

The track wasn't quite the full 440 yards so we started half way down the back straight with four laps to run when we passed the finish the first time. When the gun shattered the tense silence, heightened by the ominous clouds hanging motionless overhead, I didn't leap away with my usual keenness. Normally I would have run out and jockeyed for a suitable position fairly near the front from which I could watch developments. But this time, taking the view that there were plenty of others to help me, I decided to sit in well back.

The expected didn't happen. There was some shuffling around and to avoid running too wide round the first curve, I was forced to drift back to the rear of the field. Tension probably caused this mix-up and it also affected my pace judgement because as we passed the quarter mark I heard 61 seconds called. This was still reasonably within the four-minute schedule so I wasn't unduly disturbed. The field was now in fairly close Indian file and I was content to stay where I was, 12 yards back from the leader Barry Cossar.

Midway through the second lap, I sensed the thinning of the field and surged forward to the middle and then again into a gap between Murray and Bruce. This put me third. Murray, my hope for the third lap, dropped two yards on Cossar. I had to leave him and go past to get a close trail on Cossar.

Peter Snell He was doing a tremendous job and two minutes were called as we passed the half-mile. I moved up to his shoulder and glanced back to see who was coming through for the third lap. All I saw was a large gap.

Impatience got the better of me then. I moved into the lead myself, determined that I would make the three-quarter mark in three minutes. It wasn't going the way it was planned but all was not necessarily lost. I concentrated purely on the time and on keeping my running as relaxed as possible and I was still moving comfortably as I came up to the three-quarter timekeeper and heard him calling '... 59 ... 60 ...'

Then a surprise. Tulloh drew level as we approached the bell, the bell clanged and Bruce was out in front, sprinting like a rocket and obviously intent on stealing the race. Even though it came from the runner I'd discounted, this was the stimulus I needed.

Rather than fight him round the bend, I stepped up pace only enough to poise myself on his shoulder. As we swung into the back straight with 300 yards to run, I knew I had him covered. I wasn't worrying about him. I was racing time, not Tulloh.

At that point I abandoned the studied relaxation of my running and let go with my finishing drive. This is the moment when you stop consciously controlling what you are doing and pour everything into driving out the utmost speed.

Peter Snell I found myself running in complete freedom from restraint. I was holding nothing back and I don't think I've ever felt such a glorious feeling of strength and speed without strain as I did during the final exhilarating 300 yards. I knew I must be well within the four minutes as I raced round the last curve. I straightened, heard for the first time the rising roar of the crowd and kept on driving. Still there was no conscious effort and I flew through the tape in full free flight.

I ran straight into chaos. That moment was virtually the end of the meeting. There were people everywhere, an endless din and confusion. Someone come out of the crowd and showed me a stopwatch. It was inside four minutes but I didn't bother to read it properly. Over it all the crowd announcer kept calling out that he, too, had a stopwatch but that all he could say was that it was definitely well under four minutes.

It seemed ages before the official time was announced at 3:54.4 and, because the printed programme was in error, this was announced as equalling Herb's world time. By now, I'd given up waiting and had run a victory lap. The crowd never stopped yelling and I felt in the some chaotic state of mind I had experienced after the final in Rome.

Finally, it was established with the officials and the crowd that my time was a tenth inside Herb's record and we had the tumult all over again.

Cool Running 04.10.02. Reproduced with permission from the author, Peter Snell. This article first appeared in "No Bugles, No Drums" by Peter Snell & Garth Gilmour, Minerva, Auckland, 1965. It was reproduced in "I Was There" ed. Bob Brockie, Penguin, Auckland, 1998.

Photos: 1: Halburg Trust; 2: Athletics New Zealand; 3: Wellington City Council.