50 years after making history, Val Rogosheske returns to run Boston Marathon

Heartbreak Hill is known as the most grueling stretch of the Boston Marathon, not so much because of the incline but because it comes so close to the end of the 26.2-mile race.

And yet, 50 years ago, when everyone around her was walking up the hill, Val Rogosheske kept a bounce in her step.

"We knew none of us women better drop out," she said. "And I thought, none of us better walk, either."

The Twin Cities native's gumption was rooted in the idea that what she and the seven other women were doing was historic: They were the first women allowed to participate in one of the world's most prestigious marathons. All eight women finished.

On Monday, to commemorate the 50th anniversary of her historic race, Rogosheske is returning to run in the Boston Marathon with her daughters, Allie and Abby, and a cousin.

"We didn't qualify. I just wrote and asked if I could bring three female relatives," Rogosheske said, noting Adidas is providing their bibs and sponsoring the women. Rogosheske is part of an honorary team running to celebrate the original eight; she's the only one of the original group participating this year.

"How many 75-year-olds do you know that are preparing for a marathon?" Abby Rogosheske asked with a laugh.

For Val, running the Boston Marathon a half-century after the historic race is an important mile marker in her life.

"I just like revisiting history and by doing so, appreciating what happened and maybe my small part in it," she said. "And this year, to bring my daughters back to run with me, and my cousin, is really, really meaningful."

Val Rogosheske was a tomboy as a kid, running around and playing sports with kids in the neighborhood. But she didn't compete in athletics because it wasn't considered "ladylike."

There were no high school or college sports for women at the time, although she participated in athletic clubs at Edina High School and St. Cloud State, where she majored in physical education.

"Someone asked me how fast I could run a mile. Here I was, a phy ed major, and I thought, I've never timed myself. And I couldn't even finish the mile," she said. "It was embarrassing. So that's when I started jogging."

She met her husband, Phil, on a blind date when Phil was home from his Army posting for Christmas. He was a teacher and athlete, but what won her over were his letters. "This man could write," she said.

Within a year, they were married and Val found herself on the East Coast. So when Phil, a competitive kayaker, suggested she find a goal to help her get out the door and run, she set her sights on the Boston Marathon.

"I had heard of women hiding in the bushes. I thought, 'That sounds kind of cool. I think I'll do that,'" Val Rogosheske said.

That was just five years after Kathrine Switzer registered as "K.V. Switzer" to run the marathon and was assaulted by the race manager — a moment captured by photographers and immortalized as a symbol of sexism in the era of the women's rights movement.

After being banned from competing, Switzer and others wore down the organizers until they finally allowed women to run the Boston Marathon in 1972 — 75 years after the marathon was established.

"I didn't even understand how hard they were working to get us in," said Rogosheske, now of Minneapolis. "I just kind of showed up. ... I don't think I really realized the magnitude of it right then."

Nor did Phil, who at the time was training for the 1972 Munich Olympics. Beyond pushing his wife to find a hobby she loved, he contributed by finding her running shoes, no small feat then.

Only a few companies made running shoes at the time — and they were for men. He got her a pair of Asics that now reside in a Boston museum. "They were just like bedroom slippers," Phil said. "She ran the whole marathon in those shoes."

Val took sixth place in her inaugural run with a time of 4 hours, 29 minutes. When she returned the following two years, she took ninth in 1973 (3:51) and eighth in 1974 with her personal best of 3:09.

In all, she raced seven full marathons, including the first-ever marathon for women only in St. Paul in 1977. When training for that race, she averaged 70 miles a week for 18 weeks.

"I was strong. I was just ready to go under three hours. And then, as life happens, 10 days before the event I got sick. I got this really bad chest infection," she said. "I probably shouldn't have run it at all. But I did and got another 3:14."

Her immune system crashed and ultimately it ended her racing career, although she did return to run a half-marathon in Boston on the 25th anniversary of her historic run.

While Val considers her first race to be happenstance, this year's race has been in the making for years. She started training more than a year ago and plans to alternate between running and walking in 30-second intervals.

"Doing that makes me go faster, if you can believe that," she said. "If I would only run, my run would feel clunky. It would not give me the same feeling of fluidity and balance. Now if I'm only running for 30 seconds, I can feel like my old self. I can feel like I'm going fast enough, I'm in rhythm. And then I take 30 seconds to recover and do it again."

She and Phil have also been busy, recently moving into the same duplex as Abby so they could help care for her 18-month-old. Abby Rogosheske, 38, said she has been a runner most of her life, largely because of her mother's influence, although she mostly runs recreationally, and not at all since before she was pregnant.

"It was a heavy lift for me to prepare for this marathon," she said. "My mom keeps saying, 'It's so nice that you two are going to be going at my pace to support me.' And here I'm thinking, 'I just want to keep up with you, Mom.' "

It could take Val upward of six hours to complete the race, which is fine by her. She said she purposely undertrained because her main goal is to get to the starting line without injury or illness.

And now, when she looks back, her stance on her historic run has evolved.

"Pretty much I've said I just showed up. At first I was feeling like it was pretty pitiful," she said. "But then I started embracing that. Yes, we need activists. But we also need people to show up. And that's how change is made."