June 2, 2004

by Jack Heath, Coach.

My first meeting with Browning Ross was accidental. I was asked to stay after school to play basketball by my freshmen English teacher. On my way to the gym, I passed some friends on their way to sign up for track. They talked me into following them into the sign-up room. Behind a desk sat the track coach, Browning Ross, a man who would have a bigger impact on my life than anyone besides my parents. I knew nothing about Browning, and asked him, "What events do you have that don't involve running?" With a smile he suggested the long jump and high jump.

Not willing to commit myself yet, I showed up in our first meet with baseball spikes. Browning had spent the first two weeks watching me struggle through a cold, rainy spring. He must have noticed something. "Jack, I am going to run you in the mile today," Browning mentioned a few minutes before our first meet. "Are you sure?" I asked. Luckily, I had no time to think about it. I ran 5:30, and held off a senior with a beard who groaned like he was trying to kill me. Browning ran onto the track and gave me a hug, saying, "You are going to make a good runner." I would find out through a 25-year friendship, that Browning did not make those statements loosely.

Browning had a way of listening without seeming to. A typical conversation: "Browning do you still have that pair of running socks (or book, etc.) in your store?" Browning had a way of looking at you without answering. "You know if we change around the last half-mile of the course we could avoid a lot of traffic." Guess he didn't hear me, no use bothering him. Except the next day, without fail, the socks or book would be there. He was multitasking before I knew what the word was.

 Coach:

In high school, I felt like I had an advantage, having Browning as my coach. He never talked strategy before the race or made anyone nervous. Instead, he would crack jokes: "Good looking guys up front. Jack, Mike, and Jim get in the back!" After a poor race, Browning would just say, "Atta boy, you did alright!" After a course record or win he would keep you on the same even keel--no big heads allowed. "What did you run? 15:03? That's what I ran in 5th grade! That's about what the top girl on Woodbury is running for three miles!" Still, the training was sound. Browning was ahead of his time. Barefoot running, fartlek (including running backwards, sideways, etc.) were a staple of his practices. Browning would always look for new, interesting places to run in South Jersey. Many of these locations were in the woods. Trying to stay with Browning in the woods took every ounce of concentration and strength I had. Our high school competition was easy by comparison. One of my first two miles resulted in Browning's favorite story: For six-and-a-half laps I battled a runner from Maple Shade, passing on curves, straights; neither runner could get an advantage. Trying to motivate me, Browning yelled, "C'mon Jack, beat that FAT KID!" The kid yelled, "Fat kid, my ass," and sprinted away. Afterwards he said, "Where's that old guy who called me fat?" Browning laughed at the way it backfired. He never yelled at any of his runners. One cross-country race, in Pennsgrove, stands out: two runners opened up a gap on me in the first half-mile. I looked at Browning and he had a smile on his face as if to say, "No problem, you've got this one." I caught up and set a course record--made possible by his confidence in me.

World Class Runner:

Slowly, we found out from other runners how great a runner Browning was, and what he had accomplished. It would never come from him. If asked, he'd make a joke and change the subject. Still, his running feats were legendary. I enjoyed asking him about his experiences during his running camps in Medford and Pomona, NJ. Browning would describe coaching and running in the first world cross-country meets, "teaching" the great Ethiopian runners how to run, meeting tribal leaders, and dropping their sacred gift on the airport tarmac, running in the Olympics, winning a prize in the Sao Paulo midnight run--a trophy, a sack of flour, and eggs--and carrying it on the Broad Street Subway in Philadelphia on the way back. Every time there was a new story, all with a funny ending. Through Browning I got to meet world-class runners. People like George Sheehan, Dave Wottle, Dick Buerkle, and others at his camp. George Sheehan had the same gift as Browning--to talk to a 13-year-old kid like they were an important person--which they were. It was rare in my experience for coaches and world-class athletes to think this way. I can remember two runs with Browning as among the most difficult, but rewarding, I've done. On the Atlantic City boardwalk Browning, Dave Wottle, Dick Buerkle, and I raced a boat that was parallel to the shore and returned before some of the top high school runners in South Jersey did. Another time Browning and I ran 6-mile pace for 8 miles in 90-degree heat along some railroad tracks in Gloucester. Both were confidence builders--so this is what it takes to be good. I especially enjoyed when Browning would accompany me to road races. He would still win his age group handily. Still running 6-minute miles, it wasn't enough of a challenge for him. Offbeat, interesting races appealed to him. One year, we both went to the Whitesbog Cross-Country Run in the Pine Barrens. Winning our age groups, we both won a case of blueberries and an electric pencil sharpener. As I dropped him off at his house after the race he said, "Jeez, what am I going to do with all of these berries? I didn't tell anyone that I was going to a race! Do you want them?" Browning's wife Sis said to me, "Jack I know you love running, but nobody, nobody ever loved running more than Browning."

 Race Director:

After the world cross-country meet held at the Meadowlands, Browning took us to the hotel in New York City where he had founded the Road Runners Club of America in 1958. Since that day he had put on a summer and winter series of races every year. A few stand out. He put on a five-mile race in Avalon, in July for close to thirty years. A few hours before the race we would run the course, then Browning would set up a table and register runners. The last year it became a hassle. After our run, a police offer asked him if he had a permit. He went to the municipal hall to obtain one for the first time. Next, a runner asked if there was a banquet following the race (and its five-dollar entry fee). Browning pointed to a clambake at the town hall a few feet away. "It's in there…" he said. After the race, we stopped and each bought a jug of apple cider from a roadside stand for the ride home. A car stopped to ask us directions, got one look inside at two hay-seeders drinking from jugs, and said, "Never mind!" On another occasion I sat with Browning in subfreezing weather before one of his winter series. "Jeez, if no one comes we can go home and watch the Eagles playoff game…" he said. "Do you think no one will come?" I asked. "No," he said, "They'll be here." And they were. At his cross-country series a runner twisted his ankle and threatened to sue. Browning once helped me design a course in thirty seconds that I had puzzled over for 12 years. I just couldn't make it turn out. Looking out my car window: "Can't you go down this path and come back on the next street?" Problem solved. "What is Sports East, the race's sponsor?" the clueless runner asked. "It's a large corporation in Ohio," Browning answered with a grin. Nothing seemed to bother him, even the new breed of runner we started to encounter at races in the late '90s. Although everyone at Browning's races got a prize, he loved to save the biggest and the best awards for first-time race finishers. Imagine the look on a 12-year-old girl's face when she won a prize as big as she was. Or imagine the look on an elite runner's face when Browning unscrewed the top of an enormous jar of pretzels that he had awarded said runner and took a few out and started to eat them as he read out the rest of the awards! At one race, a 10-mile in Glassboro, I joined him to help out after consuming a big dinner. He talked me into running the race instead of helping him. "Here put on these running clothes from the store, I've got a watch and some great prizes--I'd like to see you get some." I did, although I felt like turning green for portions of the race. Browning was flexible. Often he would change one of his courses in mid-season just for a change.

 Innovator:

Browning found a way to stop his runners from complaining about every ache and pain. "Rub peanut butter on it," he'd say. I remember freshmen runners giving off the faint whiff of peanuts. It was his cure-all for every injury (that only needed time to heal anyway). Imagine my surprise, 25 years later, when I see an article that Australian physiologists believe peanut butter can speed recovery from minor injuries. I cut out the article and brought it to Browning at one of his summer races. "I told you," he said with a shrug as he put the clipping in his pocket. Browning had us run barefoot as much as possible. He felt that feet atrophy in shoes (like a cast). He also believed in doing speed work year round. "There is no such thing as burn-out he'd say. You don't need to run slow for four months first. Keep your speed up year round." On one occasion I approached Browning about a sore hamstring. "Sit on a tennis ball," he said. Do you know what? It worked. It worked as well as his cure for sore knees--deep knee bends with hands folded on my head. I saw this exercise in a yoga book not too long ago, by the way. Browning was always looking for little strips of woods to run in. Somehow he'd find them, even in heavily populated South Jersey. He rarely ran on the roads. To this day, when I hear the call of a blue jay I think of him. What could be better than to run through cool, shady woods, on a hot summer day?

 Friend:

Browning's friendship is missed most of all. Imagine a friend that was always glad to hear from you--that always had time for you--that was Browning. If someone broke the world record in the mile, I would have to call him, unless he called me first. Like my parents, he was one more person who could give good dependable advice on a number of subjects. It was refreshing how Browning could talk about so many things other than running. Earnest, while never taking himself seriously, Browning was a barometer. A good friend with whom I could run ideas past. One time, on the way to a race in Swedesboro, Browning looked at a cemetery and said, "See that cemetery? It's filled with people who thought the world couldn't do without them." It is Browning's friendship that I miss the most. He took seriously his roles as husband, father, coach, official, runner, without ever taking himself seriously. You were struck by his honesty. While coaching with him at Gloucester Catholic one of our runners trailed the pack by a good margin, but kept looking back. "What are you looking back there for?" Browning asked, "They are all in front of you." When the runner finished, Browning was the first to give him encouragement, but not false hopes. His good-natured teasing was contagious. At one meet a lone runner trailed the pack by five minutes. "Atta boy Jack, hang in there," he yelled to the runner--pretending to encourage me. Two minutes behind him, another runner struggled by. "C'mon Browning, get up there with Jack," I yelled after him. Browning got a kick out of it and his familiar "Tee, Hee, Hee" laughter followed. Although Browning was inducted into the National Distance Running Hall of Fame for his great athletic career and selfless devotion to running, it is his friendship and generosity that I will always remember. If only I could have the impact on one person that he had on so many of us.