Every great sporting event has a moment when it stops being local and begins becoming something much larger. It is rarely obvious at the time. The people involved are usually too busy building, competing and surviving to appreciate what is unfolding around them. Years later, however, history tends to reveal the turning points with remarkable clarity.
For Grandma's Marathon, those turning points arrived wearing Minnesota running shoes.
Long before the event became one of the premier destination marathons in North America, before elite athletes arrived from Kenya, Ethiopia and around the globe, before tens of thousands of runners and spectators filled the North Shore each June, two Minnesota distance runners helped establish the credibility that transformed a young race into an internationally respected event. Their names remain forever linked to Grandma's Marathon history: Garry Bjorklund and Dick Beardsley.
Today, it is difficult to imagine Duluth without Grandma's Marathon. The race has become one of the city's defining annual events, generating millions of dollars in economic activity, attracting visitors from across the United States and beyond, and serving as a showcase for the city, the North Shore and Minnesota itself. But in the late 1970s and early 1980s, none of that was guaranteed. Grandma's Marathon was a startup sporting event competing for attention in a crowded running landscape. It needed legitimacy. It needed star power. Most of all, it needed athletes capable of convincing the running world that something special was happening along the shores of Lake Superior.
That is where Bjorklund entered the picture.
A native of Twig, just northwest of Duluth, Bjorklund was already one of the nation's premier distance runners when Grandma's Marathon debuted in 1977. His running résumé included NCAA All-America honors and international competition, making him arguably the most accomplished runner ever to toe the starting line of the inaugural event. When Bjorklund won that first Grandma's Marathon in 2 hours, 21 minutes, 54 seconds, the victory represented much more than the first championship in race history. It gave organizers immediate credibility. If one of America's best distance runners believed the event was worth running, other athletes would take notice as well.
The significance of Bjorklund's early support cannot be overstated. New sporting events fail all the time. They struggle to attract participants. They struggle to attract sponsors. They struggle to attract media attention. The involvement of an athlete of Bjorklund's stature instantly elevated Grandma's Marathon above the level of a local novelty. It became a legitimate race with legitimate aspirations. In many ways, Bjorklund served as the event's first ambassador long before anyone was using such terminology.
Then came 1980.
By that point, Grandma's Marathon was still a young event searching for a broader identity. Bjorklund delivered the breakthrough performance organizers could only have dreamed about. His winning time of 2:10:20 shattered the existing course record and established Grandma's Marathon as a course capable of producing elite-level performances. Even more impressive is the fact that the mark remains one of the greatest performances ever recorded by an American at Grandma's Marathon. More than four decades later, Bjorklund's 1980 effort still stands among the fastest times in race history and remains the second-fastest marathon ever run by an American on the course.
That performance mattered because the running world pays attention to times. Athletes can appreciate beautiful scenery and enthusiastic crowds, but elite competitors ultimately chase fast courses and fast results. Bjorklund proved Grandma's Marathon offered both. His 1980 race provided the first real evidence that Duluth's North Shore course could produce performances worthy of national recognition. The race was no longer simply growing. It was beginning to emerge as a serious player in American road racing.
And then Beardsley arrived. If Bjorklund built the foundation, Beardsley constructed the first skyscraper.
By the time Beardsley won Grandma's Marathon in 1981, he was already developing a reputation as one of America's most promising marathon runners. What happened that June transformed both his career and the future of Grandma's Marathon. Beardsley finished in 2:09:37, establishing a course record that would stand for an astonishing 33 years. At the time, it represented one of the fastest marathon performances ever recorded by an American and immediately elevated Grandma's Marathon into the national spotlight.
The magnitude of that accomplishment becomes even more impressive when viewed through a modern lens. More than 45 years later, Beardsley's 2:09:37 remains the fastest marathon ever run by an American at Grandma's Marathon. Not one American runner has surpassed it. Thousands have tried. Many of the nation's finest marathoners have competed on the course. Yet Beardsley's mark remains untouched, a testament both to his talent and to the extraordinary nature of that performance.
Course records often fall within a few years. They are meant to be broken. Athletes improve. Training methods evolve. Equipment changes. Records disappear. Beardsley's survived more than three decades.
That alone tells the story.
His victory also arrived at precisely the right moment for Grandma's Marathon. Running was exploding in popularity across America. The marathon boom was underway. More recreational runners were entering races than ever before, and media coverage of distance running continued to expand. Beardsley's performance provided the kind of headline-making result capable of attracting attention far beyond Minnesota. Suddenly, runners in Boston, Chicago, New York and Los Angeles were hearing about a marathon in Duluth.
The following year, Beardsley returned and won again.
Shortly thereafter, he became a national sports figure through his legendary duel with Alberto Salazar at the 1982 Boston Marathon, widely regarded as one of the greatest marathon races ever contested. Although Beardsley narrowly finished second in Boston, the race elevated him into the upper tier of American running icons. As his national profile grew, so did awareness of Grandma's Marathon. The event benefited enormously from its association with an athlete who had become one of the most recognizable names in distance running.
The relationship worked both ways. Grandma's Marathon helped showcase Beardsley's talent, while Beardsley helped showcase Grandma's Marathon to the world. It was a partnership that neither side could have fully appreciated at the time but one that proved enormously valuable for the long-term growth of the event.
What is remarkable looking back today is how much of Grandma's modern identity can be traced directly to those early years. The race's reputation as a fast course began with performances like Bjorklund's and Beardsley's. The race's ability to attract elite competitors grew from the credibility they established. The race's standing within the national running community emerged because respected athletes demonstrated that world-class performances could occur in Duluth.
Today, runners from dozens of countries travel to Minnesota each June to compete. Elite international athletes regularly challenge course records. Hotels throughout Duluth and the surrounding region fill with visitors. Restaurants, retailers and local businesses benefit from one of the most important tourism weekends of the year. The race has become both a sporting event and an economic engine.
None of that happened by accident.
It happened because visionary organizers built an event worth supporting. It happened because thousands of volunteers embraced the race and helped create one of the friendliest marathon experiences in America. It happened because sponsors invested in a long-term vision. But it also happened because elite athletes chose to compete when the race was still trying to establish itself.
Bjorklund and Beardsley did exactly that.
One gave the race its first champion and its first measure of legitimacy. The other delivered a record-setting performance that announced Grandma's Marathon to the broader running world. Together, they provided the foundation upon which everything else was built.
Their contributions extend far beyond statistics and record books. The Garry Bjorklund Half Marathon remains one of race weekend's signature events and serves as a permanent reminder of his role in Grandma's history. Beardsley continues to be celebrated as one of the race's most beloved ambassadors, a living connection to the event's formative years and one of the most enduring figures in Minnesota sports history.
As Grandma's Marathon continues to grow and evolve, new champions will emerge. More records will eventually fall. Additional generations of runners will create their own memories along the North Shore.
But some names become larger than results. Some athletes become part of an institution's identity.
For Grandma's Marathon, Bjorklund and Beardsley are not merely former champions. They are the two men who helped transform a promising local race into a world-class event. Their footprints remain embedded in the course, their influence remains woven into the history of the race, and their legacy continues every June when thousands of runners make the journey from Two Harbors to Duluth.
The world knows Grandma's Marathon today because of many people. But it first started paying attention because of Bjorklund and Beardsley.
Howie's daily column is powered by Lyric Kitchen Bar in Downtown Duluth. Contact Howie at HowieHanson@gmail.com
