Marathon Man
Local running legend ‘Crazy Leonard’ Vavra was unique
By John Fey
During my 20 years at the World-Herald, I wrote stories on lots of interesting people. I consider Leonard Vavra among the most unique characters of them all. After all, how can you not label someone nicknamed “Crazy Leonard” as unique and, more important, special?
The Omaha running community lost one of the best ambassadors of the sport last week when Vavra died after suffering a massive stroke at age 82. Most Shout! readers likely have no idea who Vavra was, but he became an icon at area road races. Read on and you’ll find out why.
While many begin running in their early 20s, Vavra waited until his late 40s to get the “bug” and didn’t run his first marathon until he turned 50. (I ran the last of my four marathons a couple weeks after turning 50.)
One marathon wasn’t enough for Vavra. His 97th race over 26.2 miles came after turning 76. Between the marathons came various area runs of shorter distances. So how did he get his “crazy” nickname?
Nobody takes credit for it – as far as I know – but it seemed like the proper tag to place on a runner who didn’t just huff and puff during races. Vavra bellowed out a loud hoot while exhaling.
“He’s a legend,” Omaha Marathon director Susie Smisek said in a WOWT story that aired in 2006. “The first time I heard him hoot and holler, I said, ‘That’s crazy!’ And people said, ‘That’s Crazy Leonard.’ ”
I had the same reaction during my first encounter with Crazy Leonard at a race. The hoot made you nearly jump out of your shoes. “What the hell?” I told myself. Like everyone else, I later found out Leonard was just having a good time.
Having a blast at races was Leonard’s mantra. He loved cheering on other runners both during and after races.
I recall him doing that at the Richfield Run not that many years ago. But he paid a price for the many miles, and he was reduced to doing just a shuffle/walk rather than taking full strides. Still, he gave high fives to everybody on the course.
Eventually, the pain got to the point where he needed knee-replacement surgery in 2004. No big deal, right? On a fateful Sept. 30, it became a bad deal. Complications from the surgery five days later forced the amputation of his left leg above the knee.
He almost died. In the story I wrote the following January, the doctor who performed the surgery said, “I’ve been doing this for 32 years now, and I’ve never had anybody lose a leg.”
Vavra admitted he was terribly depressed at the beginning.
“When it first happened,” he said, “I was in a down mode a little bit. But I’m back up there now. It’s happened, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
That was Vavra’s trademark – Mr. Upbeat.
“I’m not a very important runner, never was,” he said. “I have some enthusiasm. That’s how anybody knows me.”
He never realized how many knew him, maybe not personally as I had the good fortune, but were aware of who this hoot-and-holler runner was at races. His ability to run may have ended, but his presence at races lived on after the tragic loss of his limb.
At the August 2006 Omaha Marathon, volunteers pushed him over the course in a specialty wheelchair. He walked the final 20 feet on his prosthetic to cross the finish line for his 98th marathon. There weren’t many dry eyes watching.
The news of his death rocked the many friends Vavra developed over his final 30-plus years, especially those from his hometown of Ord, Neb.
“Leonard was my friend,” wrote Ord resident Rich Cecetka on the omaha.com site’s obituary tab. “Leonard was everyone’s friend! He was a special member of the running community, always giving encouragement to others.”
Looking back on the story about Leonard’s outlook following the amputation, I forgot how positive he was about the future and wondered if I would be as upbeat.
“Enthusiasm is like a fire on a windy day,” he told me. “Life can be awfully low if you don’t have some enthusiasm.”
For those of you reading this in heaven, get ready for a treat. Crazy Leonard will be a hoot.