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.

Most people don't know this but over the course of time, the official of the race in 1967 in Boston, who attacked me Jock Semple and I became very good friends. That gave me a whole new perspective on forgiveness.

When I finished the Boston race in 1967, there were two things I wanted to do. I wanted to become a better athlete because my first marathon was 4:20. In those days, that was considered a jogging time and I knew people were going to tease me. But I was more fascinated with what women could do if they only had the chance.

Triumph over adversity that's what the marathon is all about. Nothing in life can't triumph after that

All you need is the courage to believe in yourself and put one foot in front of the other.

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.

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.