When I read the obituary for Louise Adams in last Wednesday’s Camera, I knew right away there could have been only one runner to have contributed to it — her longtime friend and Boulder Road Runner clubmate Carl Mohr.
Adams passed away at age 100 two weeks ago, and the obit summed up her life story well, from her days serving in World War II for her native Canada to walking up and down Broadway Street twice a day on her way to and from her job at Mapleton Elementary to her many U.S. masters age-group records and wins.
Adams “embraced the sport of running, traveling to all but two continents in the company of like-minded companions,” wrote Mohr. “The fitness community fondly remembers her glory days as a competitive masters runner when folks decades younger than Louise would struggle to match her pace over any distance.”
Indeed, Adams was still clocking 26 minutes for 5K well into her 70s and would match strides with many of us on Sunday group runs. Adams was a diminutive runner, standing all of 5-feet in thick-soled running shoes, and when I first interviewed her years ago at her house, she had a brace of medals around her neck.
When I joked that the weight of the medals weighed her down and likely knocked a couple of inches off her height, she glanced up with a stern look, saying what I saw was but a small part of her racing hardware. Beneath glass in a coffee table were some of her World Championship medals; up on a wall, scores more. Somewhere in there were the 19 U.S. records and four world age-group records she ran on her way to being named Colorado Sportswoman of the Year and being inducted into the U.S. Masters Running Hall of Fame.
I thought of Adams when reading about a new book co-authored by former University of Colorado star Sara Slattery (with Molly Huddle) titled “How She Did It.” For women of Adams’ generation and the generation after, there were no opportunities to compete, no organized teams, no races, no mentors or guides. How Adams did it was through grit and determination, seizing the opportunity to age-group race when it came in 1977, in the nascent years of the Running Boom. She is a link to the condition of women growing up in the Depression years — marrying, starting a family and discovering running later in life.
Remember, it was not until 1972 that the 1500 meters for women became an Olympic event, and when women were allowed to enter the New York City Marathon the same year, they staged a sit-in because of the requirement that the women — all six of them — start 10 minutes before or after the men. It changed quickly in the ensuing decades, and Adams did not begrudge her late start in running. She had a joie de vivre in her running that was apparent to all, including CU head coach Mark Wetmore, who would see Adams down at Potts Field years ago doing her workout while his runners were warming up.
“Louise is an inspiration,” Wetmore said about Adams and her training at the time for the World Masters Track and Field Championships. “I have more respect for Louise than for many other runners. Training is easy to do when you are 20, and very difficult when you are 85.”
Training was indeed getting more difficult, and those 2009 World Championships held in Italy were to be her swan song from racing. Adams stayed active in the ensuing years, coming to social events in the company of Mohr and his wife, Sally. Their daughter Katrina remembers as a child trying to keep up with Adams during Sunday club runs and seeing her drive around town in her beloved Mustang.
“She was inspiring because she embodied strength and always did her own thing and followed her interests,” Katrina Mohr wrote in an email. “Louise didn’t care if people thought she was too small or old to be driving a muscle car or running all over the world. She was the best. I’m glad she was such a big part of my childhood.”
Perhaps Adams’ friend, Rich Castro, head of the Boulder Road Runners during her time with the club, said it best after her retirement from racing: “Louise always has a smile and a quick hello for everyone and is a pleasure to work with. You can’t have enough people like Louise in your club — or in this world.”
Follow Mike Sandrock on Instagram: @Mike Sandrock.
