Jim Weil

This article by Barry Spitz first appeared in the Marin Independent-Journal of January 31, 2012.

JIM WEIL

Of all the many traditions associated with Marin’s fabled Dipsea Race, likely the most enduring is complaining about the head starts. Runners in the first Dipsea, in 1905, groused about them, and runners in the 102nd Dipsea, on June 10, will be griping as well. For 44 years now, setting these head starts has been the bailiwick of Jim Weil.

Weil, 68, grew up in Mill Valley. His second grade teacher was Edna Maguire, in the year today’s Edna Maguire School opened. Weil was running cross-country for Tamalpais High when a teammate, Bob Hope, won the 1960 Dipsea. Weil entered his first road race, Bay to Breakers, in 1967, but found his niche in long trail races. Weil has run dozens of Dipsea and Double Dipsea races, and won the heavyweight (over 200 pounds) division in the latter. (Weil is six feet, six inches tall.) In 1979, he won a silver buckle for finishing the Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run in under 24 hours.

In 1977, Weil witnessed firsthand the chaos at the Dipsea, when a record field of more than 2,000 runners caused such a massive finish line backup that official results were never produced. He heard threats to kill the Dipsea from those who considered it out of control. So Weil phoned Jerry Hauke, the lead race official who lived just a few blocks away in Mill Valley.

“I walked over, knocked on his door, told him I wanted to help, and the door opened wider,” says Weil.

For several years, until Bob Knez and Merv Reagan came on board, Hauke and Weil operated as a two-member Dipsea Committee. “I was in charge of the competition side of the race, things like timing and head starts, and Jerry was in charge of the event side, permits and volunteers and the like. We got along great, each respecting each other,” Weil says. “Our first year together, 1978, the police had so little to do they were sitting around drinking coffee.”

From the very first Dipsea, slower runners were set off ahead of the stars to give every entrant an equal chance of winning. Until 1965, these head starts were individually assigned by a handicapper who personally knew every entrant’s ability. But in the early 1960s, entries tripled with a burgeoning crop of new runners. So the head starts were changed, based strictly on age. When women were officially admitted in 1971, gender also became a factor. No longer did every starter think they had a chance to win, only those tops in their age group.

Early formulaic handicapping was rather crude. In 1965, there were just four start groups, and all the top 20 finishers had either no head start (called “scratch”) or the maximum of 15 minutes. In 1966, six of the first seven finishers ran scratch.

“When I took over the handicapping in 1978, I didn’t do anything with it at first because I had so much else to deal with,” says Weil. But when he did, it was with passion. He certainly had credentials for the job. Weil holds an undergraduate degree from MIT, and a doctorate from the University of California, both in mechanical engineering. He is an aficionado of horse racing, where handicapping moves billions of dollars, and went to the track almost every single day for years. And he loves the Dipsea. Weil began meticulously plotting graphs of the fastest Dipsea times by age and gender.

“I used two main principles in assigning head starts. One was to maximize competition for first place, not for the top ten or the 35 black shirts. The other was to base them on actual times in the Dipsea Race, not on national road race marks,” says Weil. To make the head starts even more precise, he began sending runners off at one-minute intervals, a step previously considered logistically impossible.

“I knew that people would be upset with me as handicapper, and I have certainly taken verbal abuse,” Weil says. “But a single person has to do them, with integrity, free from committees, politics and intrigue.” (While interviewing Weil in San Anselmo, I introduced him to a passing Dipsea runner who instantly responded, “So you’re the troublemaker!”) But many Dipsea veterans appreciate Weil’s efforts.

“I’ve been a friend and admirer of Jim Weil for 30 years,” says Kentfield’s George Frazier. “He’s one of those fun, funny, smart, successful people who makes everything he touches better. That’s especially true of the Dipsea, where he brought an organizational zeal and a sense of professionalism to what had been a less structured operation. His handicaps will always be a lightening rod for criticism, as every runner feels that he or she not only needs more handicap minutes, but deserves those minutes. Jim’s methodology has proven itself over the years, as the race has nearly always been won by the strongest age-group runner in the field.”

While plotting the age/time graphs, Weil has gained a unique perspective of top performances.

“I once considered Homer Latimer as the greatest Dipsea racer of them all, but now, undoubtedly, it’s Sal Vasquez,” Weil says. “Melody-Anne Schultz also has a strong case, but no one had Vasquez’s fire.”

In 1986, after Vasquez had won four successive Dipseas, Weil came up with the idea of a “winners penalty,” inspired by the extra weight added to winning horses. Vasquez promptly finished third. Over the years, the penalty rose to a high of four minutes, which Weil, in retrospect, now considers too much. Today, each of the three previous Dipsea champions loses one head start minute.

Weil also started the auction for coveted Dipsea Race entry places. Now 100 places are reserved for the highest bidders, with the money going to a scholarship fund.

In 1992, Weil retired from the organizing Dipsea Committee. The Committee has the power to adjust Weil’s proposed head starts, but has done so only rarely, and never more than one minute.

“Still, each change troubles me,” Weil says.

Knee problems have ended Weil’s running days. But he’s looking forward to marrying Sandra Eastburn this spring, moving into a condominium in Novato the two just bought, fully retiring from his engineering consulting work and continuing to handicap the race he loves and cares for and knows so well.