The Marin Athletic Club was formed by Jim Imperiale in 1958 for Marin runners to compete in the Dipsea Race. Jim won the 1959 Dipsea. Over the next two decades Marin A.C. teams and individual runners became a significant part of Dipsea history. From 1958 through the late 1970s the Marin A.C. dominated the Dipsea results.

The Marin A.C. won the Team Championship 15 times: 1959-1970 and 1973-1975

Marin A.C. runners recorded the fastest Dipsea times ever. Ron Elijah ran 46:08 in 1971 and 44:49 in 1974 which is still the fastest time in the history of the Dipsea Race. Don Makela ran 46:42 in 1970 to break Norman Bright's 37 year old record and 46:43 in 1974. In 1981 Rod Berry ran 46:48 which was recognized as a course record due to changes in the course. Rod also ran 47:43 in 1983.

Carl Jensen won the 1966 Dipsea Race from scratch. This is one of only five scratch handicap wins in the history of the Dipsea.

Seven Marin A.C. runners are in the Dipsea Hall of Fame: Jack Kirk, Darryl Beardall, Ron Elijah, Don Pickett, Phil Smith, Carl Jensen and Don Makela.

Eight runners won the Dipsea Race while representing the Marin A.C.: 1959 Jim Imperiale, 1960 Bob Hope, 1961 Phil Smith, 1963 Alan Beardall, 1964 Greg Sparks, 1965 John Satti, 1966 Carl Jensen and, in 1974, Darryl Beardall. Dipsea winners Jack Kirk, Ralph Perry and Don Pickett also ran for the Marin A.C.

Marin A.C. fastest Dipsea times: (22 sub-49 minute marks)
Ron Elijah 44:49, 46:08, 48:00; Don Makela 46:42, 46:43, 48:22; Rod Berry 46:48, 47:33; Byron Lowry 46:55, 47:39, 47:51, 48:17; Bob Hope 47:41; Bob Bunnell 48:01, 48:03, 48:26, 48:35; Darryl Beardall 48:02, 48:38; William Ferlatte 48:27, 47:28; Carl Jensen 48:57

For the 100th running of the Dipsea in 2010, the Marin A.C. is back.

Wes Hildreth's Remarks at Marin A.C. Reunion
21 June 2008

I've always thought myself one of the most fortunate people on earth. And back in the 1950's in Mill Valley I
was certainly lucky to be in the right place at the right time. While at Tam High, I first ran the Dipsea in 1955,
and soon after I was one of the handful of kids around Jim Imperiale when he nucleated Marin A.C. Jim lived
only a block from Old Mill Park, so inevitably the Dipsea steps became our main focus. Jim drove us hard in
training, drove us home from Stinson, won the Dipsea himself in 1959, and even ironed stick-on letters to our T-
shirts to initiate the logo 'Marin A.C.'. I ran intermittently from 1955 until 1970, but have been away from the
competitive running scene ever since.

My fondest memories of that youthful decade are the severe hill runs over Mount Tam with the Hope brothers
(Bob won the Dipsea in 1960) and, later, summer long midweek time trials with Carl Jensen (who won it in
1966) and the classy Novato contingent Carl assembled. All that was well before I went to grad school at
Berkeley and became a research volcanologist. But I carried away lasting lessons from that Dipsea Decade in
Marin.

First, I learned to admire, even root for, my rivals, who were trying every bit as hard as I to improve and make
their marks. This was irrespective of what we'd now call 'diversity' - pretty wide differences in politics,
philosophy, or family backgrounds. Distance running is intrinsically egalitarian, and it brought us all together.

Second, our running experience taught me never to allow pursuit of excellence to diminish appreciation for the
good - a lifelong lesson. Few of us ever do quite as well as we thought we might've. But unlike a lot of sports,
distance running doesn't boil down simply to winners and losers. A wondrous aspect of our sport is that
improvement can alone lift all boats. Shaving a minute off last year's time or moving up from 20th place last
year to 15th this year can be exhilarating and nearly as satisfying as actually winning - a deeply rewarding
measure of one's sustained efforts.

Finally, I learned that I loved the hills and trails (even thought I'm pretty sure I'd have achieved better marks
had I stuck to the track). The Hills took me to the Mountains and then to the Wilderness, into a fascinatingly
mobile life of climbing, mapping, and studying volcanoes, from Alaska to the Andes.

And, naturally, I continue running today (in my 70th year) whenever I'm back from the mountains. I stopped
entering competitions in the early 1970s, but I still do time trials once or twice a week as part of a balanced
training, long & short, fast & slow, slower every year. Without such training, how could I maintain the rigors of
my day job? I haven't thought of distance running as a competition, as much as a lifestyle. A back-of-the-
envelope calculation shows I've gone running well over half of the 20,000 days since 1953.

These are some of the things Marin A.C. and the Dipsea gave me. What remarkable gifts in retrospect! Thanks
to Jim. Thanks to the Hope and Beardall brothers. Thanks to Carl and all the rest of you. And thanks to Dick
and Darren for bringing us back together today.

--Wes Hildreth

Bill Ferlatte's Dipsea Memories

I want to acknowledge at the beginning that I have used Barry Spitz's wonderful history of the Dipsea to jog my memory, which is in about the same condition as the rest of my body as far as jogging is concerned. I ran my first Dipsea in September, 1957, as a sixteen-year-old high school student. The previous year I had begun to train with some older guys I had met while working out in the summer at a local high school track. They were Bill Ranney, John Reed and Charles Lucas. These guys introduced me to the sport of road racing, the Statuto in North Beach and the Cross City (aka Bay to Breakers) -- and then there was the Dipsea. As anyone who has ever been over the course knows, the Dipsea is unique among races with its multiple challenges, beauty, screwball handicap system and the "rule" you start at the starting line and get to the finish line on your own two feet. How you did that was up to you. It is a REAL cross-country race. Once I had run it, it became an integral part of my running soul and has remained there to this day. During the dozen or so years I ran the race, all other running was to be in shape for the Dipsea; it did not matter if I was running for a high school or college team or in other races, it was all about the Dipsea.

In 1957, we were running for the San Francisco AC and won the team trophy that year. The Marin AC was formed a few years later, and we began to run for the "local" team. The Marin AC had a winning streak at the beginning that lasted for 12 years or so. By 1963, there were complaints from other teams that we had some local advantage and should be disbanded. I always thought that was plain old sour grapes. Yes, some team members lived in Mill Valley, but others did not. Alan and Darryl Beardall lived in Santa Rosa; during most of the '60s I lived in Arcata most of the year. Tom Beck lived in Sonora most of his Dipsea years. Other guys lived in Novato, San Rafael, Fairfax, etc. During the years that the Marin AC dominated the team competition, I don't think the first five team finishers were ever the same five guys from year to year. What we had in common was that we were a bunch of guys who loved to run and for each of us, the Dipsea was something special. Yes, we knew the course very well, enough to run it at night. Once in '58 or '59 Ranney, myself, John Reed, Charles Lucas and his sister Joan decided to run the course around midnight and we did just that. There might have been a flashlight but I don't remember that. It was the first time I ran the course with a woman, a harbinger of things to come. Even those of us who trained together did not run the course exactly the same way or the same way every time. It came down to which route looked and felt good on any given day. The great mystery during those years was the route that Norman Bright took in his record-setting run in 1937. Every year someone claimed to have figured it out but that never resulted in a new course record.

The 1963 race is the one that stands out in my memory for a number of reasons. I ran my fastest time (48:27) and finished my highest place (second). It was the first time in 43 years that more than 100 runners finished the race (120) and it was the first, and maybe only, time the winning team (guess who?) swept the first six places. These six guys were in order of finish (with handicap in parentheses): Alan Beardall (3), Bill Ferlatte (2), Bill Ranney (5), Sig Hope (4), Darryl Beardall (0) and Carl Jensen (5). Note that these six runners were spread out in five handicap groups. The handicap system was always a puzzle to me. It was apparently based on your best Dipsea time, best mile time and which way the wind was blowing when the handicap was assigned. One thing that was nearly certain though -- if you won or ran one of the fastest times, you could count on starting from scratch the following year. In '63, someone placed a number of red, white and blue signs at various places along the course addressed to different Marin AC runners. There was one for Ranney at the one-mile mark with a reference to the finish line being "that way"; there was one for me nailed to a tree in Deer Park that said, "Bill Ferlatte go like a bat." I went back several weeks after the race and retrieved "my" sign. I still have it. I never knew who put them up.

That race, 1963, was a kind of weird one for me. It was a good day, clear and not too hot, I was in good shape and running well. I don't remember the start, the stairs or anything until coming up out of Muir Woods. By the time I started up the Hogback I was by myself, I could not see anyone in front of me and was not aware of anyone behind me -- a very unusual state of being for that part of the race. I figured the first group of runners were somewhere up ahead of me, but I did not know who or how many. I was just cruising along enjoying the solitude. I finally caught up with Ranney in Deer Park. He seemed surprised when I passed him and said, "Go get 'em, Bill." Go get who? When I came out of the trees at the top of Cardiac, there was a guy standing there in street clothes who told me, "He has about a minute on you." I'm thinking, "Who has a minute on me? I don't see anyone out there." As I ran on past Lone Tree, I was more concerned about who might be behind me -- I did not want to get passed (especially by Ranney) and lose whatever place I was in at that stage of the race -- and ran accordingly. When I got to the White Barn, my wife was standing there and yelled, "It's Bill!" "Well yes it is," I say to myself. I did not see another runner until the last straight stretch before the finish line, when Alan turned his head to see where the next runner was behind him. I did not know he had won and I was second until after I finished the race. Alan was a good, strong runner, and even though I had gained 40 seconds on him since the start of the race, and even if I had known our respective places at the top of Cardiac, I don't think any amount of first-place greed was going to let me catch him. He probably did not want to be caught anymore than I did.

I ran about the same time from scratch in 1968 (48:28), which put me in eighth place, the first Marin AC runner to finish. We won the team prize once again, only this time the first five were spread from 8th to 21st. Ron Elijah and Don Makela were the 4th and 5th MAC finishers that year; talk about a harbinger of things to come. Darryl and I both started from scratch that year, and it was the only time I finished ahead of him "fair and square."

By 1970, the Dipsea had begun to be a big deal and I lost interest in running the race. It just wasn't fun anymore, the camaraderie seemed to have dissipated and I don't like crowds very much. But I am going to be present at the 100th anniversary of this truly marvelous footrace.

--Bill Ferlatte

Steve Stephens - Running the Dipsea the old tyme way

It's been 50 years since my first race on the Dipsea. Has it changed since then? Yes, but probably not as much as this runner has. I have a little less hair and have gotten shorter. The Dipsea has a lot more grass and bushes and has gotten longer.

I don't remember how or who got me to start running for Marin AC but that happened before the 1960 Dipsea. Weeks or more of Wednesday evening practices coached by Jim Imperiale, winner of the 1959 Dipsea and a founder of the original Marin AC in 1958, got me in decent shape for my first competitive race on the course. Jim would drive his old Studebaker over to Stinson Beach to time us and give all a ride back to Mill Valley. By this time I had a few years of high school track (mile) and cross country (Tam and Redwood) under my belt so knew enough about running to do pretty well. But not enough to do great. I finished unofficially in 11th place out of about 75 finishers but don't have my time. I ran "unofficial" because one had to be a 17 year old male to enter the Dipsea. I was 16.

1961 was my second year running the Dipsea and I was old enough to now enter officially. The previous year I had some very enjoyable training runs dueling with Stu Sparling. I think Stu trained harder and ran faster this year as he finished 2nd in the race and 3rd the next year. My race time of 57:09 was good for 14th. Sadly, I don't remember much at all of these two early races. However, I do remember the course as it was back then; much changed in many small and larger ways. The start was the same at the Mill Valley square flagpole. The steps were mostly older and simpler ones but still formidable. Walsh Drive after the top of the steps was a rutted dirt alley that passed through an old stable with dogs that didn't really want you to be running through their domain. Right above the stables the road could be driven by car, but just. It was in better condition then than the current path through the trees and weeds has been for decades.

Windy Gap has seen dramatic changes caused by the building of two houses right on the Dipsea trail. When did they get built? Must have been in the early 1970s. The first few years we still ran right through their property and down the hill behind and onto the road to Muir Woods. The trail down was steep, but had some boards staked in to act as steps in places. This old route must have been a lot faster than the current route and dumped you on the Muir Woods road maybe 50 yards or so uphill from where the current trail connects to the road.

When we got to the mail boxes we took the current trail, but before the trail now splits (Suicide to the left fork) the old route made a right turn and went steeply down the hillside, then connected with the dirt road above the one we now take at the bottom of Suicide. I don't know, back then, if there were alternate routes in this area.

We crossed Redwood Creek in Muir Woods maybe 100 yards upstream from where today's crossing is. From the creek the old trail made a switchback or two before joining about halfway up the current Dynamite hill. After the trees of Dynamite cleared we were running mostly on grass that the cows owned. A style was at the top of Dynamite and, usually, a tough looking bull was there to watch us jump over the stile - I think this stile was the kind you zig-zagged through - but other stiles on the course required a good jump over them. I miss them all.

To the top of Cardiac I remember the course being pretty much as it is now but with less vegetation since the cows were always out there keeping the grass short and the several parallel trails in good condition. At the top of Hogsback there was a wet area with a large plank which would keep us out of the mud. The spring seems to not be so active now. Cardiac was a lot smoother in the old days and the top portion of the hill went straight up instead of bending around to the left. You can still see the old trench in the trees from the old course. We had a good trail mostly all the way in to the finish from Cardiac. Again, the cows kept the trails pretty smooth and the grass short. Swoop was easy to run. Not much of a trail but just a bowl covered in inch high grass so you could easily pass runners. And, of course, back then, the trail at the bottom of the Swoop went straight into Steep Ravine through what became known as The Trench. By the time they outlawed running through The Trench it must have been 15" deep and not any wider but it was a direct and fast route into Steep Ravine.

I remember the trail in Steep Ravine being smoother...or is my body now protesting stronger at the difficult trail? Several heavy rains have changed the trail a few times in past decades and I can't picture how the old trail went or how it was different. Insult was much the same though I think it was up a dirt road back then. With cattle on much of the Dipsea course and surrounding areas the farmers had a network of dirt roads that later were left to turn into trails or obliterated by the park service. At White Barn we had a stile to jump over (there was no option of a Moors trail back then). The old barn was to the left of Panoramic Highway right after we jumped the stile at the road. Once the Moors was "built" I used to still go to the right of the barn then cut down the hill to the bottom of the new Moors trail. That was faster until the thistles took over that hill.

Once hitting Panoramic Hwy, the trail still took the current route ("Door 1" I think it's called now) back off the road to the left. Wasn't there another stile there? The trail was much smoother and wider. In fact, once you got to the bottom of the hill the trail didn't go back up onto the road, but continued down a farm or fire road, wide and smooth and a great place to see how much speed you still had left. Again two houses built on the trail would later change the course in this area. The old creek crossing was downstream about 100 yards, I would guess, from where it is now, but it joined with the newer trail somewhere after the steep part of the new trail below where the Moors joins the older trail. From there we crossed Panoramic Hwy the same as we did until not that long ago and cut across a small triangular area and on down to run Hwy 1 to the finish.

Once you hit Hwy 1 you could see the finish after a gentle left bend in the road. Finish line: Hwy 1 at the STOP sign. The finish was later moved to in front of the hot dog stand/Parkside Cafe where it remained for many years before being moved to inside the park.

One thing that was difficult in the old days was timing yourself. I would check the clock in Mill Valley when I left and, after the finish, run quickly to find a clock somewhere to see how I had done. Not terribly accurate but close enough. When Casio came out with their digital runner's watch I was in heaven and immediately bought one. Now I could get accurate times as well as splits.

Comparing the Dipsea of today with the course in the early 1960s I would say the course was more runnable back then, more fun, more open, many less restrictions, and shorter. I think the handicap system today is more equitable to runners. The Dipsea is a big "production" today. Back then it was just a hell of a fun race.

I didn't mention other runners here. I remember a few names, but most of the old timers are long gone from the running scene and I haven't been in touch with those I used to run and race with. Even Darryl I didn't know well back then. I do remember training with George Cagwin, Jesse Ochoa, Stu Sparling, Bob Hope, and Wes Hildreth but I never hung around with any of them. I was a shy young high schooler who had lived in Marin only a short time since entering Tam High in the fall of 1957. Had my step dad not insisted that I go out for some sport in my Freshman year at Tam I wonder if I would have ever taken up running and racing. Thanks Dad.

--Steve Stephens