Peter Millard

Make a difference.


It isn't easy to learn about Dr. Peter Millard's extraordinary achievements as a runner by asking him in person. His genuine modesty, born out of his respect for the achievements of others, renders him almost silent when he is asked questions that begin: "How fast...?" or "What place...?" This is true despite the fact that his achievements are impressive both in quality and in number. Millard did not just have one great race, or even many great races; he had many great races over a range of distances - but you'll probably have to ask someone else to tell you about them.

Few people would be as reticent as Millard to recount how - despite the hot conditions at the 1980 Boston Marathon, he managed to run 2:21:55 - good for 30th place overall - or to mention that this time was quick enough to secure a place in the Olympic trials later that year. But when Millard thinks about great finishes at Boston, he shrugs off his own achievements, preferring to think about his great-uncle Fred Cameron – who won the race in 1910, or runners of the caliber of Bill Rodgers who won the 1975 Boston Marathon – the first Boston that Millard ran.

There is, too, the possibility that Millard knows how unlikely some of the stories about him can sound – and not just as an athlete. Any runner knows that stories recounted in the middle of a leisurely Sunday morning long run can rank alongside the famous "Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics" when checked for truth.

But Dr. Julie Millard, Peter's younger sister and a talented marathon runner in her own right, has corroborated many of the stories about her brother which would otherwise seem apocryphal at the very least: Yes, it is true that Millard hitch-hiked from Maine to Bolivia and back after graduating from college, where he volunteered in an Indian hospital in Cochabamba before starting medical school; and yes, it is true that Millard declined a general anesthetic when surgery was performed on his knee so that he could watch what the surgeon was doing. However outlandish the stories of his activities may appear, it really doesn't pay to doubt them. When he wasn't out running, he was likely to be out organizing for peace, cutting firewood, or working on his car.

So what is the truth about Millard's accomplishments as an athlete? They begin at Cheverus High School in Portland, where Millard was one of the first crop of talented athletes to be coached by Charlie Malia. Malia said of him, "At that point in time – and you have to remember that Peter was a 4:20 miler before there were too many 4:20 milers – I think he was a better athlete than I was coach. I'd love to have him to coach now." Malia went on, without missing a beat, to recount Millard's successes during his time at Cheverus: State Champion 1000 yards; Southwestern Maine Champion, 880 yards and mile; Co-Captain State Champion cross country team (1972).

It was also while he was at Cheverus that Millard developed another ability, which has continued to this day: the ability to maintain and develop his athletic excellence while achieving an extraordinary level of success in his personal life. Millard graduated from Cheverus valedictorian in 1972 and was granted admission to Amherst College in Massachusetts, where he excelled academically and athletically.

The supporting evidence for Millard's achievements while at Amherst College is provided by Bob Williams, coach of the track and cross country teams. When asked about Millard's record as the best miler on the track team (and as co-captain of the track and cross country teams) at Amherst, Williams said, "From the moment when he set our freshman record for the mile, I knew that Peter had a rare combination of toughness, dedication, and a love for the sport. His racing philosophy was simple: He ran as fast as he could for as long as he could, and, because he was so tough, it was a philosophy that gave him more than this fair share of wins."

While at Amherst, Millard became interested in the marathon and ran his first Boston Marathon in 1975, a 2:34 effort from the 21-year-old Millard which caused him to comment at the time, "My legs tightened up like bear traps. I couldn't stand up. The next day I almost didn't get out of bed. I felt as though I'd been on the rack. Every muscle in my body hurt." It wasn't enough to put him off altogether, though, and he ran 2:28 in 1978, 2:25 in 1979, 2:21:55 in 1980, and 2:21:21 in 1983 at Philadelphia. Millard won the Sugarloaf Marathon (1983 and 1984), the Philadelphia Boathouse Marathon (1989), and the Elks Club Midi-marathon in 1:07:34 (1979).

Amherst coach Williams said, "What was amazing about Peter's performances were that they came at a time when he was training to be a doctor." Williams knew what this meant in reality: Millard and his training partner, Kurt Lauenstein (later a multiple-time winner of Portland’s Casco Bay Marathon), deprived of quality training time by a work schedule that could stretch to a hundred hours or more a week, used to snatch time between patients to sprint up and down the stairs of the hospital building; on other occasions they would run their interval sessions around the parking lot so that they could – in the days before beepers – be on call for emergencies. These ad-hoc training sessions were indicative of the demands that medicine was going to make on Millard's life for many years.

Millard met his wife, Emily, while at medical school in Burlington, Vermont. She was a nursing student at the time and subsequently became an obstetrical nurse, where she mentored him in providing nurturing care for pregnant and nursing moms. Given the life he lived "in the fast lane," she showed incredible patience and support for his professional training and athletic pursuits. They have three children together, all of whom are passionate about athletics and outdoor activities.

At the age of 30, when many marathoners are approaching their peak, Millard made a decision that effectively ended his career as a national-caliber athlete. He accepted a posting to the Willis Pierce Hospital in Mt. Selinda, Zimbabwe as a staff physician – one of a handful of doctors responsible for looking after nearly half a million local inhabitants.

It was not a glamorous position, but Millard's decision to go was not a surprise to many people. Tom Derderian, the author of the definitive piece of writing about the Boston Marathon – Boston Marathon: The History of the World's Premier Running Event, remembers a discussion he had with Millard when they ran together in the Sugarloaf Athletic Club in western Massachusetts. He recalls asking Millard if he was going to be a "fat cat" doctor, making huge amounts of money. Derderian has never forgotten the reply: "No. I'm going to med school so that I can become a family doctor in a rural area. I want to make a difference." Derderian never doubted that this athlete, who used to sneak over to UMass so that he could run workouts with their Division I team would stay true to his word, and even a cursory glance over the other medical positions that Millard has held reveals the depth of his long-term commitment to his youthful ideals.