HENRY RONO AND MO FARAH
I remember Henry Rono when he was young.
I was young then, too.
Today, Henry Rono is 70.
In the 1970s, during running’s boom years, it was a ‘Catch-22’ scenario for him.
Hamstrung, stymied and then stifled by Kenyan boycotts of the 1976 and 1980 Summer Olympic Games, the then-26-year-old made his 1978 season on the track, one for the ages.
It may have been the most remarkable ‘personal best’ year in the sport’s history.
Over 81 days, as a sophomore at Washington State University, he set world records in four events:
The 3,000 meters;
5,000 meters;
10,000 meters; and
3,000 meter steeplechase.
A feat never accomplished by anyone before…
Or since.
Rarely does a runner with the stamina to break new ground over 25 laps, have the speed to do so, over 7-and-a-half laps–with barriers.
Sir Mohamed Muktar Jama Farah CBE OLY–Mo for short–is a British long-distance runner.
Mo Farah’s ten global championship gold medals make him the most decorated male track distance runner ever.
He is the most successful British track athlete in modern Olympic Games history.
Farah was the 2012 and 2016 Olympic gold medalist in both the 5,000 and 10,000 meters.
He is the second only, after the Fin, Lasse Viren (1972; 1976), to win both the 5,000 and 10,000 meter titles at successive Olympic Games.
His list of accomplishments is truly the stuff of legend.
Trust me.
Farah shocked the world recently when he revealed in a BBC documentary that he was trafficked to the U.K. as a child and forced into domestic labor.
Domestic servitude.
Last year, at least 10,000 children were trafficked to the U.K., and forced into crime, sexual exploitation or, as in Farah’s case, domestic servitude.
That figure is likely a gross underestimate.
Decades later, Henry Rono is far less impressed by his historic track exploits than he is by his commitment to educate himself.
To master the English language.
“Running to me was second nature,” he said.
“Education was my weakness.”
His life has been a real roller coaster ride, to say the least.
It’s been nearly a half-century since he first left Kiptaragon, a collection of small farmsteads in the Nandi Hills of the high-altitude Rift Valley region of Kenya.
Whew!
A “Forrest Gump” kind of adventure.
One that has taken him from the pinnacle of athletic excellence to the gritty depths of addiction.
And to nearly every corner of the U.S. in between.
Now, after more than three decades away, he’s back in Kenya.
Sober.
Clean.
Among the avocado trees and bougainvillea flowers of his yesteryear.
But…
He remains largely unappreciated, if not cast aside altogether.
He had returned with the offer of a job, coaching up-and-coming athletes.
Local officials informed him upon his arrival that, unfortunately, there was no room in the budget for him.
Wow!
He’s pretty much estranged from his wife and two children, who live on the properties he bought at the peak of his running career.
But he’s far more than the fallen hero he’s come to represent in the world of elite running.
“Henry’s such a more complex and endearing figure than he’s usually depicted,” remarked Tomas Radcliffe, a professor of English at Central New Mexico Community College (CNMCC), who edited Rono’s self-published memoir.
“His goals and motivations are pure to him. That may be the most exceptional thing about him.”
Mo Farah too.
The long-distance superstar has said in the past that he arrived in the UK from Somalia with his parents, as a refugee.
Not so.
The Olympic superhero has told the BBC that he was given the name Mohamed Farah by those who flew him over from Djibouti.
His given name at birth was Hussein Abdi Kahin.
Transported from the East African country at age nine, by a woman he’d never met.
To care for another family’s children.
“For years, I just kept blocking it out,” he said.
“But you can only block it out for so long.”
In the BBC documentary, Farah states that his parents have never been to the UK.
His mother and his two brothers live on their family farm in the breakaway state of Somaliland.
His father, Abdi, was killed by stray gunfire in an eruption of civil violence when Mo was 4.
When they arrived in the UK, the woman who arranged his transport, did and said the following:
She took him to her flat in West London;
She tore up a piece of paper in his possession, which had the contact information of some of his relatives;
(“Right in front of me, she ripped it up and put it in the bin,” he sadly recalled.
“At that moment, I knew I was in trouble.”).
And she informed him that housework and childcare were in his immediate future, “if I wanted food in my mouth.”
He says the woman told him: “If you ever want to see your family again, don’t say anything.”
“Often I would just lock myself in the bathroom and cry,” Farah said.
For the first few years, the family did not allow him to attend school regularly.
His old form tutor, Sarah Rennie, remarked that Mo came to school “unkempt and uncared for,” and was an “emotionally and culturally alienated” child who spoke very little English.
She further noted that the people who claimed to be his parents never attended any parents’ evenings.
Said Sir Mo’s PE instructor, Alan Watkinson, “The only language he seemed to understand was the language of PE and sport.”
Back to Rono.
His early years were also punctuated by tragedy.
A bicycle accident left him unable to walk until age 6.
His father’s death in a tractor accident around then, meant the family struggled.
Rono was in and out of the classroom for years, as his mother cobbled together academic fees.
He was drawn to running by the time completed seventh grade…at 19, inspired by Kipchoge (Kip) Keino, who was raised in a neighboring village.
Keino’s 1,500-meter win at the 1968 Summer Olympics ushered in an age of Kenyan running dominance.
One that Rono would soon join.
His stride wasn’t the most graceful, but his will, and barrel-chested force were unmatched.
Although he obliterated 4 world records in low-key meets with little competition, on a diet of cheeseburgers and Budweiser–and with a college degree and a Nike contract in hand–his luster faded fast.
Careless with money, he was lured into bad investments by con artists.
Lots of sadness.
Along with some uplifting periods.
Kris Houghton and Solomon Kandle, New Mexico-based runners who set personal bests under Rono’s guidance and with his tutelage, described him as a “wise sage,” with a reverence for hills and a deep appreciation for the sport’s mental aspects.
“He loves the pureness of someone seeking to better themselves,” Houghton said.
Henry Rono and Mo Farah–tales of past adventure and all-encompassing woes aside–each project a sense of contentment and appreciation for what running has given them.
Opening a path.
Securing opportunity.
Fueling hope.
Amen.
[Editor’s Note: This piece was written by Mr. Kaplan in July 2022.]
