1997
The first time Abraham Weintraub tried to enter the New York City Marathon, he was not thinking about how fast he could cover the 26 miles and 385 yards. All he wanted to do was push his wife, Ruth, in her wheelchair.
She had Alzheimer's disease, but that did not stop them from doing things together. He wheeled her through their neighborhood stores in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. He wheeled her through tourist attractions in Ireland and Israel when they went on vacation. But when he applied for the marathon, officials told him, "You can't push a wheelchair in the New York Marathon," their son Joel recalled.
Mr. Weintraub began training anyway. He went ahead and ran, by himself, in the marathon in 1992. He had never been much for sports, but after his wife died the next year, he kept on running, as an antidote to loneliness and loss. "My father just wanted to keep busy all the time, to forget," Joel Weintraub said.
Now 87, Mr. Weintraub will run in his fifth New York City Marathon tomorrow, with number X6150 pinned to his shirt.
After watching him trot along his favorite course in Bay Ridge, one can safely say that Mr. Weintraub will cover the five-borough circuit at a pace that will not take him to the Olympics, but that is definitely faster than walking. Last year, his time was a respectable 6:18:34. He was the 27,346th runner to cross the finish line and came in ahead of 836 mostly younger entrants. The New York Road Runners Club says that about a dozen other runners who are over 80 enter the race every year, including Sam Gadless of Boca Raton, Fla., who is 90 now and has been slowing down a bit. In 1993, he finished in 6:04:47. Last year his time was 7:24:59.
Mr. Weintraub, though, has been getting faster. Last year, he dropped almost 6 minutes off his 1995 time, which was 3 minutes faster than 1994, which was more than 90 minutes faster than his time of 7:59:29 in 1992. In 1995 he even earned a place in New York City Marathon history: he became the fastest 85-year-old ever to complete the race. (Mr. Gadless set a record that year as the fastest 88-year-old, in 7:12:18. He also holds the record as the fastest 86-year-old in 1993 and the fastest 87-year-old in 1994.)
"Every year, I shave off a few minutes," Mr. Weintraub said before a practice run this week. "I'm steady. When I run three, four miles, I get my wind. That's when I start passing people."
Yes, passing people. In the London Marathon on April 13, where he was the oldest entrant, Mr. Weintraub finished ahead of more than 2,000 and first among the 20 older than 80. He was also something of a star on the BBC. (He brought home the videotape.)
"He has passed quite a number of athletes in the last hour or so," the deep-voiced announcer declares as the tape shows a reporter with a microphone in her hand catching up to Mr. Weintraub.
The tape shows him pausing to chat with the reporter. Then, a surprise end to the interview: he kisses her before he jogs off toward London Bridge.
"I asked permission," he whispers in his apartment in Bay Ridge, watching the tape for perhaps the hundredth time.
The tape shows him finishing just ahead of No. 47202, who Mr. Weintraub said was 65. "He could have beaten me," Mr. Weintraub said. "I'm faster than he is, but my feet were full of lead by then."
But the BBC experience was puzzling. "I don't understand," he said, watching yet another replay of the kiss. "This was five miles before the end. How'd they know I'd finish?"
Finishing is his motto. "Every race I run, I'm scared, scared I won't finish," said Mr. Weintraub, a retired postal worker who competes in about 30 races a year of various distances. "Sometimes people are trying to keep up with me. I tell them the important thing is not to quit. Finish. It's not a question of the order, just finish."
Having started marathon running late in life, Mr. Weintraub does not talk much about runner's highs or the differences between Nike and Adidas. "He claims the reason he could run when he was 80 was he wasn't all that athletic before," his son said, "that people wear out their joints if they're athletic."
Mr. Weintraub developed a regimen: an early-morning run, a game of tennis and a subway ride to Manhattan, where he cruised the fancy food stores. "You know Fairway? You know Zabar's? Citarella?" he asked with the authority of one who has lugged home fully loaded shopping bags from each. "Balducci's, the strip steak is $19 a pound. It's this thick. I go by taste."
Lately, he has dropped the tennis, but not the running. And so, after a cup of extra-strong coffee, he walked two blocks to the long stretch of pavement on the Brooklyn waterfront where he has put in so many miles that he knows every stride-throwing hummock and dip.
He had to pull up his white socks, which had slipped to somewhere just north of his ankles. Then he decided to peel off his dark blue sweatshirt, even though it was one of those mornings when the temperature was struggling to make it out of the 40's.
Mr. Weintraub has the course figured out. He plans to jog to the Williamsburg Savings Bank in Brooklyn, about 8 miles from the starting line. "If my pace is slowing up, I'll walk after that," he said. "I'm a fast walker." But when he hits Greenpoint Avenue, he intends to start jogging again, right straight into Long Island City. He may do some more walking on the way to Manhattan, but by the time he is closing in on Central Park, he will be going full speed.
"You're born with your speed -- nothing you can do about it," he said. "Speed doesn't mean a thing when you run 26 miles. The good runners, the fellows who teach me, they start off very fast. But it's not how you do the first 5 miles. It's not a question of the order, just finish."
The medical director for the marathon, Dr. Andres Rodriguez, said much the same thing.
"Older people know not to push themselves to go too fast or too far, so they finish and finish fine," he said. "It's the younger people who think, 'I can do it in 5 hours.' " Asked about Mr. Weintraub, he said, "If he feels comfortable running this distance, fine. Physiologically, he sounds like he's 50 or 60."
Mr. Weintraub's memories are those of a much older man, though. In his apartment, he is looking at the photographs of himself and his wife on their wedding day in 1936. He is talking rapidly now, remembering his courtship and one unexpected moment. "She gave me the ring back," he says. "I thought she'd picked somebody else."
It turned out that she had not. They were married for 57 years. But questions about their life can still be troubling. How long has it been since she died?
"I can't remember," he says, and there is a catch in his voice. "I always think of her smile, her beautiful smile, and she took that with her."
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