Celebrating the Return of Track & Field, the Original Olympic Sport

Managing is the everyman’s activity. It blurs the obstacles of age, sizing, and ethnicity. The barrier to entry isn’t dependent on status or dollars. You grind in absolutely free spaces—back streets and grime trails—with almost nothing more than the shoes on your feet. With track and subject, all those sentiments only heighten. You expand as an particular person, but advantage the crew. The teachings uncovered therein transcend activity. You learn where by to force, when to continue to be in your lane, and how to lean into distress. And its origins as a spectator activity are significantly-reaching.



Observe and field’s history can be traced back to 776 BCE, when it was helmed as the initial Olympic sport—remaining the only occasion at the Game titles right up until 724 BCE. Freeborn Greek gentlemen sprinted equivalents of 200 meters and 400 meters competed in distance functions and duked it out in the pentathlon (discus toss, javelin toss, long soar, sprinting functions, and wrestling). Athletes who acquired a location on the podium acquired sealstones—similar to our modern day medals—a gemstone usually bearing an engraving of Nike, a winged goddess that personified victory. In Greek mythology, she was a messenger of the gods, usually shown with a wreath or ribbon with which to crown triumphant athletes.

Presently Nike’s a titan in a diverse sense. The company is a stalwart of pace. Its iconic Swoosh adorns the shoes of some of the fastest runners on Earth hailing from all corners of the globe—from Kenya to Oregon, Nike’s birthplace. The University of Oregon’s Hayward Area is where by the origin tale commences.

In 1973, the fledgling company signed its initial athlete: Steve Prefontaine, a gutsy 22-year-previous distance working prodigy. Historical Greek athletes were valorous in that competing in chariot racing usually resulted in becoming mangled or trampled to death—but that’s what fueled the crowds. They obtained drunk off the hazard. Prefontaine understood the draw. He approached running—or better nevertheless, racing—with a warrior spirit and gave it the similar attraction as looking at horses thundering around a circus. He was not timid. He went out challenging, in no way doubting his endurance or pace would falter.