Connor Mantz's arms were shaking as he warmed up for the Olympic marathon trials in Orlando in February.
Mantz, 27, of Provo, Utah, looked over at his best friend, Clayton Young, who was stretching next to him. Together they covered more than 10,000 miles. They raced for the same prize money and fought for the same podium spots. And they formed a bond so strong that other runners wish they could replicate it. They supported each other through season-ending injuries and pushed each other through grueling training sessions.
Their friendship took both runners to the pinnacle of their professional careers. Both believed they had put the other on the starting line that day. Now they are hoping to get each other to run in the marathon at the Paris Olympics. Mr. Muntz was the favorite to qualify, and Mr. Young was the leading candidate.
If they make the team, years of tedious mileage will be rewarded with a chance to represent their country and provide greater financial security for their families. .
But a lot can go wrong in the two-plus hours it takes to complete a race, and Muntz and Young are worried about four-time Olympian Galen Rupp and others who might surprise them. We were exposed to daunting competition, including a potentially large number of competitors. .
By the time the runners approached the starting line, the temperature was 61 degrees and the humidity was 65 percent. These warm and humid weather conditions make the 46.2 mile race even more challenging. Mr. Young had a bag of ice in his hand to keep cool. Wearing white hats and black sunglasses, he and Mr. Muntz shook nervously as the countdown began.
Approximately 200 men stood at the starting line. Only two would likely earn a spot on the U.S. Olympic team.
A horn blared. The two friends bumped fists and started running.
Parallel paths to elite running
By the time Mantz and Young met at Brigham Young University in 2017, both had established themselves as rising stars in distance running.
Young, now 30, started running in fifth grade thanks to a program called Mileage Club. Every lap he ran around the soccer field during Friday recess brought him closer to winning a prize, which looked like a key chain with little feet on it. It was also a chance for Mr. Young to compete with one of his childhood friends named Alex. Still, he loved the competition and the interaction between his friends that motivated him to log more miles.
Manz decided he wanted to run a half marathon at age 12 after watching his older brother and father run the same way. When his father started running marathons, Mantz declared he wanted to run 46.2 miles himself. (After consulting his doctor, his parents pumped the brakes but still let him join the cross-country team.)
Both Mantz and Young found joy in the sport. By the time they joined their high school track and cross country teams, their potential was clear. Soon college coaches started calling.
Young chose BYU in part because the team had an advantage over its star players. Two years later, Mantz enlisted the help of coach Ed Eyestone, who himself had run two Olympic marathons. The university is supported by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, of which both runners are members.
Mantz and Young said their faith keeps their runs in perspective. Like all athletes, they can face injuries, setbacks, and get caught up in the grueling nature of competition, even with each other. But, as Mantz says, “We're very focused on the eternal.”
Eyestone doesn't remember the moment when something clicked between the runners, but the connection between them was immediately apparent. While there is a natural competitive spirit among elite runners, Mantz and Young were “comfortable enough with each other that their egos didn't get in the way of their training,” Eyestone said. Mantz liked to lead the pack and set the pace, and Young was able to follow without turning practice into a competition.
But that doesn't mean race day was as peaceful as practice. “He doesn't want to lose, and I want to beat him,” Young said. Mr. Young is the more analytical of the two. Mr. Young combs through his training data and closely follows research on human performance to help both improve.
“He's always trying to find the next best thing. What can we do better?” Mantz said.
Young, who graduated in 2018 with a degree in mechanical engineering, was faced with the decision of moving out of state or signing a professional contract to stay in Utah, where Mantz still has two years left in his term. Ta. school.
He chose to stay so he could continue training with his partner, with the idea that Mantz might stay after graduation. A running contract with shoe company Asics made it financially possible for Young.
The two spoke sensitively about these choices. “It was a decision he had to make and he made it,” Young said. But they shared the same beliefs. “If we had gone our separate ways, I don't think we would be as good as we are now,” Young said.
“Where's Clayton?”
There was no guarantee that the United States would send male marathon runners to the Paris Games. To secure a spot, at least one American man must complete any marathon in under 2 hours, 8 minutes, and 10 seconds. That was the standard for having a team in the first place.
There was a twist detailed on page 24 of USA Track and Field's athlete selection rules. Achieving that time does not guarantee the athlete who ran that time a place on the team. A good performance at the Orlando marathon will only give him a chance to win.
And no matter how many American runners break that time, the U.S. will only send three male marathon runners to Paris (a cap set by each country).
As the 2024 Olympic year approached, Manz and Young focused on achieving qualifying times. By October 2023, when he was scheduled to run the Chicago Marathon, no one had done it. The course is flat and fast, making it advantageous for competing for time.
Wife Ashley Young and Kylie Mantz criss-crossed the Chicago course, trying to catch glimpses of their husbands as often as possible along the winding route. I was relieved to see them clinging to each other. “You couldn't ask for a better person next to Mr. Connor,” Mantz said of Mr. Young.
They cheered and looked anxiously at the time. On race day, they share the same nerves. Both women know how hard their husbands have worked, the results they desire, and how their race times and finishes will impact their lives. They understand how unpredictable and cruel a marathon can be. And on race day, I have little interest in talking to anyone who doesn't.
During the final leg of the Chicago race, they leaned against the barricade, craned their necks to look for their husbands, who were flying by at a pace of nearly 4 minutes and 53 seconds per mile.
When Mr. Muntz passed them at mile 23, each breath fueling him toward the finish, he used his precious energy to shout one word: “Where's Clayton?” Mr. Young was right behind him.
Mantz crossed the finish line in 2 hours, 7 minutes and 47 seconds, then looked back to see Young crossing the line just 13 seconds later. They recorded the fifth and seventh fastest marathon times in American history and were the only Americans to meet the Paris benchmark time. However, they still had to earn their place in the team.
“Just be with me.”
Over the years, the two runners' families became close. As soon as the Mantzes walked into the Youngs' home on a recent afternoon, the Youngs asked if they were hungry, and before they could answer, they opened the refrigerator and grabbed fruit and yogurt. Young and Mantz went outside to stretch, and the Youngs' daughters, Lucy and Jenna, followed them. They worship Mr. Mantz, calling him “Didum.”
But after the Chicago race, Mantz and Young, like many others, did not communicate for several days. As usual, they were not told that they needed time to themselves.
At times, Mr. Young and Mr. Mantz sound more like an old couple than competitors. They know how to compromise. (Mr. Young likes to run late in the morning, while Mr. Mantz is an early riser; they meet in the middle at 7 a.m.) They can push each other's buttons — Mr. Mantz sets the pace during workouts. They also know when it's time to fire, although it sometimes irritates Mr. Young, such as when he raises them.
“Sometimes we have to dance around each other and work through our own feelings and emotions,” Young said.
They quickly got together and began a training cycle for the trials in Orlando.
There were still only two guaranteed spots on the Olympic team. He created two in Chicago. Technically, it's still possible for another runner to take the third place spot. But if not, both Mantz and Young would have to finish first and second to make the team.
For most of the race, they followed a runner named Zach Panning, letting him do the leading and pacing work. By mile 18, they knew they were in a position to qualify for Paris. The anxiety that had trembled in Manz's arms at the start of the race was replaced by a slow, controlled expression of excitement. Mr. Muntz gave Mr. Young a high five.
But in the final two miles, Mantz began to struggle. He had stumbled late in a race before, pushing his muscles and lungs to the brink. He feared he would never finish.
He asked Mr. Young to stay ahead of him to avoid a headwind that would make the last few miles even more difficult. Mr. Young changed his position. “Run behind me,” he told Mr. Muntz. “Just be with me.”
As usual, the two raced back and forth as they approached the finish line in first and second place. In the final stages, Mr. Young signaled to Mr. Mantz to win, which meant giving him the $15,000 prize that came with first place.
They looked awestruck as they cut the tape, becoming the only American men to qualify for the Paris Olympics.
“The reason I was with Conor at the Olympic Trials was because I knew it would be better for me to have him by my side in Paris,” Young said, and Mantz nodded. “Not just in the Olympics, but in training.”
There weren't many breaks this time. They were soon swept up in the excitement of qualifying for the Olympics, including a visit to the Utah State Capitol and a series of media appearances and meetings with sponsors.
And they already had another race scheduled on their calendar: the New York City Half Marathon in March. A few days before that race, Manz had to withdraw due to injury. He couldn't be too cautious before the Olympic training cycle began.
So Young ended up training without a partner. As he tied his shoelaces before a solo run at his home in Provo one recent morning, he looked around as if he'd missed something.