A picture, of Jock Semple kissed me,appeared in The New York Times the next day after Boston Marathon in 1973, and the caption was "The end of an era."

When I was first running marathons, we were sailing on a flat earth. We were afraid we'd get big legs, grow mustaches, not get boyfriends, not be able to have babies. Women thought that something would happen to them, that they'd break down or turn into men, something shadowy, when they were only limited by their own society's sense of limitations.

1967 race in Boston changed not just my life, but millions of women's lives. There are also things that, when you get older, resonate more.

Jock Semple and I began appearing at speeches together and he came up to me on the start line in 1973 and planted a big kiss on my cheek. He said in his Scottish brogue: "Come on lass, let's get a wee bit of notoriety." He never said he was sorry but that was his way of saying it, I'm sure.

I don't have any kids of my own, quite by choice. There are two reasons for that. One, I had a sense of obligation for what my life would be and a vision of how to get that accomplished and it didn't include children. It's not that I don't like them, it's just that if you have them, they deserve 100 per cent of your attention.

I married the right guy later in life. Roger Robinson is just so wonderful but I was 40 and by that time he had been married and had his family. I realized how dangerous children could truly be. So I feel maternal when I see those women run.

I organized this global series of races. The data from those races, along with the tremendous amount of lobbying and meetings with federations, convinced the IOC. We got the women's marathon in the Olympic Games in 1984. That was my dream.