In just over 81 days as a 26-year-old sophomore, Rono set four world records in the 3,000 meters, 5,000 meters, 10,000 meters and 3,000-meter steeplechase. It was a feat accomplished by no one before or since; yet to Rono, the gravity almost doesn’t register. Instead, he’s proudest of a period later in his life when he overcame drinking and money problems to master English and find a way back home.
“Running to me was second nature,” he said. “Education was my weakness.”
Rono was born in Kenya in 1952, and his early years were marked by tragedy. He was unable to walk until age 6 due to a bicycle accident, and his father’s death around the same time meant he was in and out of school as his mother scraped together his tuition. After finally completing seventh grade at age 19, Rono was inspired by Kipchoge Keino and started running. Keino hailed from a neighboring village, and his win at the 1968 Olympics marked the beginning of Kenyan track dominance.
Rono’s talent blossomed, and he was named to the Kenyan squad ahead of the 1976 Olympics in Montreal. Tragically, it was not meant to be. Kenya’s government joined twenty-four other countries and instituted a boycott in protesting the inclusion of New Zealand, whose government permitted relations with apartheid-ridden South Africa.
“I thought this man would come home with two golds,” said Keino.
Running was Rono’s way of releasing tension during his transition to life in the United States, and he kicked it into high gear. After his second year of training at the Snake River Canyon in Idaho, Rono didn’t just beat four world records; he obliterated them with little competition, all on a diet of cheeseburgers and Budweiser. His stride wasn’t the most graceful, nor was he the fittest runner on the track, but his willpower was unmatched.
It was after this climax that, despite four world records, a college degree, and a contract with Nike, Henry Rono became enveloped in personal struggles. Like many future Kenyan superstars, Rono was careless with money; he lost track of accounts, had cash stolen on planes, and was deceived by con artists. Eventually, he started drifting around the United States, parking cars in Oregon, ringing the Salvation Army bell in Utah, and pushing wheelchairs in New Mexico.
After settling in New Mexico in the 1990s, he worked as a special education teacher and coach, training athletes in the Navajo Nation and Albuquerque. Kris Houghton, a runner who set a personal best under Rono’s guidance, described him as a “wise sage” with a deep appreciation for people “seeking to better themselves.”
At the same time, Rono returned to school to improve his English. He took classes in poetry, advanced grammar, and creative writing before publishing his 2010 memoir “Olympic Dream” about running and his life in Kenya.
Eventually, as Rono aged and life in the United States became unsustainable, Kenya came calling. In 2019, at the ripe age of 67, he settled back into life on the same plot as the thatched hut where he grew up. Running gave Henry Rono a path out of Kiptaragon village and an unexpected path back.
“Running to me was second nature,” he said. “Education was my weakness.”
Rono was born in Kenya in 1952, and his early years were marked by tragedy. He was unable to walk until age 6 due to a bicycle accident, and his father’s death around the same time meant he was in and out of school as his mother scraped together his tuition. After finally completing seventh grade at age 19, Rono was inspired by Kipchoge Keino and started running. Keino hailed from a neighboring village, and his win at the 1968 Olympics marked the beginning of Kenyan track dominance.
Rono’s talent blossomed, and he was named to the Kenyan squad ahead of the 1976 Olympics in Montreal. Tragically, it was not meant to be. Kenya’s government joined twenty-four other countries and instituted a boycott in protesting the inclusion of New Zealand, whose government permitted relations with apartheid-ridden South Africa.
“I thought this man would come home with two golds,” said Keino.
Running was Rono’s way of releasing tension during his transition to life in the United States, and he kicked it into high gear. After his second year of training at the Snake River Canyon in Idaho, Rono didn’t just beat four world records; he obliterated them with little competition, all on a diet of cheeseburgers and Budweiser. His stride wasn’t the most graceful, nor was he the fittest runner on the track, but his willpower was unmatched.
It was after this climax that, despite four world records, a college degree, and a contract with Nike, Henry Rono became enveloped in personal struggles. Like many future Kenyan superstars, Rono was careless with money; he lost track of accounts, had cash stolen on planes, and was deceived by con artists. Eventually, he started drifting around the United States, parking cars in Oregon, ringing the Salvation Army bell in Utah, and pushing wheelchairs in New Mexico.
After settling in New Mexico in the 1990s, he worked as a special education teacher and coach, training athletes in the Navajo Nation and Albuquerque. Kris Houghton, a runner who set a personal best under Rono’s guidance, described him as a “wise sage” with a deep appreciation for people “seeking to better themselves.”
At the same time, Rono returned to school to improve his English. He took classes in poetry, advanced grammar, and creative writing before publishing his 2010 memoir “Olympic Dream” about running and his life in Kenya.
Eventually, as Rono aged and life in the United States became unsustainable, Kenya came calling. In 2019, at the ripe age of 67, he settled back into life on the same plot as the thatched hut where he grew up. Running gave Henry Rono a path out of Kiptaragon village and an unexpected path back.
