While The Runner in Kiener Plaza is not directly tied to the 1904 Olympics, the connection feels almost inevitable when you consider its presence in St. Louis — a city forever linked to that infamous and extraordinary event. The 1904 Olympics, held as part of the St. Louis World's Fair, were the first Olympic Games hosted in the United States and marked a defining moment for both the city and the world of sports.
The Games themselves were chaotic, to say the least. The marathon, in particular, became legendary for all the wrong reasons — a grueling 24.85-mile race run on dusty roads in sweltering heat. Competitors battled exhaustion, dehydration, and questionable race conditions. The winner, Thomas Hicks, crossed the finish line in a near-delirious state after being dosed with strychnine and egg whites by his trainers — a makeshift attempt at performance enhancement. One competitor, Fred Lorz, briefly “won” after riding in a car for part of the course before being disqualified. Another runner, Félix Carvajal, paused mid-race to eat apples from an orchard — only to suffer stomach cramps that took him out of contention. And a South African runner named Len Taunyane, one of the first Black Africans to compete in the Olympics, was chased off course by wild dogs.
It’s no wonder, then, that St. Louis’ identity became tied to the image of the determined runner — not only in that chaotic 1904 marathon but in the broader sense of persistence and endurance. While William Zorach’s The Runner was not designed specifically to commemorate those Olympic Games, it seems to echo their spirit — a tribute to the sheer grit and willpower required to push forward, no matter the obstacles.
The placement of The Runner near such significant landmarks — the Old Courthouse, where Dred and Harriet Scott once stood, and the Gateway Arch, symbolizing westward expansion — reinforces this idea. The runner's endless stride suggests that forward motion is always required, whether in sports, in social progress, or in the daily struggles of ordinary life.
While he may not be an Olympian in name, The Runner feels like a fitting tribute to the strange, stubborn spirit that defined the 1904 Games — a reminder that the race isn’t always about winning, but about enduring.