University President Lawrence Bacow doesn't fancy himself much of an athlete. After all, he was cut from his high school tennis team and sailed while studying at MIT, two qualities that, albeit sports-related, hardly fit the stereotypical image of a bruising jock.
But it's difficult not to respectfully disagree, just this once, with the most widely respected man on campus, the 59-year-old who has finished five marathons and still regularly goes for lengthy runs with students one-third his age. While his athletic abilities may be up for discussion, according to him, Bacow's efforts to improve the athletics and wellness programs during his tenure at Tufts are indisputable.
Tonight, at the athletics department's Annual Awards Ceremony, Bacow will become the 27th recipient of the Distinguished Achievement Award, recognizing his constant work to promote fitness and health during his time at Tufts.
"You could have knocked me over with a feather; I wasn't expecting it," Bacow told the Daily. "It's humbling, it's very humbling. I think I understand that I'm not being recognized for my own personal athletic achievements, but rather for helping to support athletics and fitness and encouraging a healthy lifestyle. For that, I am immensely proud."
The list of renovations Bacow has spearheaded boggles the mind. It's a lengthy list, with each project more impressive than the last. There's the construction of Bello Field, home of the field hockey and lacrosse teams, which occurred in 2004. The Shoemaker Boathouse on the Malden River was erected in 2006, followed by the renovation of Cousens Gym that was completed last fall.
"Tufts' athletics facilities have been badly in need of improvement for a long time," athletic director Bill Gehling said. "Even through a very difficult time financially, he's somebody who has made it happen. For example, the boat house, the Cousens renovations, I don't think any of these things would have necessarily happened had he not been here."
Physical constructions aside, perhaps Bacow's most important contribution to Tufts has been the creation of the President's Marathon Challenge (PMC) team. The largest collegiate marathon program in the country began in 2003, six years after Bacow completed the Bay State Marathon.
Born out of the desire to promote the new Tufts Personalized Performance Program, Bacow approached David D'Alessandro, then a CEO of John Hancock and a principal sponsor of the Boston Marathon. D'Alessandro agreed to give Tufts 25 numbers that first year, of which Bacow was one, and then upped the ante with 200 per year for the next 10 years.
"I always wanted to run Boston, and I was thinking about trying to do something where students and faculty and staff could come together and do something that was healthy and encouraged healthy lifestyles," Bacow said. "It's been as much fun creating and working with the PMC as anything that I've done since become President at Tufts. I love that it engages students, faculty, alumni, staff and parents for all three of our campuses and all seven of our schools."
As Bacow prepares to depart Tufts in June, he will leave behind a program that has raised over $2.5 million to help curb adolescent obesity. Perhaps more importantly, he's helped the 1,000-plus people who have run the Boston Marathon under the Tufts banner share what Bacow calls one of the greatest experiences of his life.
"Seeing people who've never run a mile before train and then finish the Boston Marathon has been the most rewarding thing," Bacow said. "Far more so than anything I've done myself is watching others do it, and seeing how others have been empowered by the experience. That's why we do it: It's not about the time, it's about learning to discipline yourself, to take on a challenge, to meet the challenge, and to do it."
It's difficult to quantify the immense value of Bacow to Tufts' athletics department. Perhaps Rocky Carzo, athletic director emeritus, put it best when he compared Bacow to the beloved mascot of the school he leads.
"The things he's done for all of us, he parallels Jumbo in this way," Carzo said. "Everybody thinks of Jumbo as a mascot, but I don't … he's a good role model. I see that whole thing with Bacow: He's a role model for all of us through an educational perspective. Carrying that sense of integrity and transmitting that to the students is what leadership is all about."
Bacow's peers all echo the same sentiment — that the President's generosity toward his sports teams defies all expectation. Don Megerle, a PMC coach, fondly tells the story of when, after a training session two years ago, the team gathered for a post-run meal at Redbones. When Megerle was ready to collect the bill, their waiter approached them and said that someone named "Larry Bah-cow" had already paid the bill.
"I got everybody together to tell the story, and they went nuts," Megerle said. "I later went over to the Gifford House to thank him, and he sat there like a proud Cheshire cat. He was so happy that he was able to do something like that. And that's him in a nutshell."
Or perhaps Bacow's seemingly flawless ability to transcend the traditional student-teacher social hierarchy explains it better. Whether it's running alongside marathon trainees on a brisk Sunday morning or making the short trek to the fields to cheer on a varsity team, Bacow's mere presence does wonders for the students of Tufts.
"These kids go crazy, because they know when he's there," Megerle said. "When you look in the stands and see your President there, it's like seeing your father or your family. He's more than a coach. And he lets you know that."
But that's just Larry, as his friends and students affectionately call him. When he departs in June, he will leave behind a legacy — though Bacow insists that he doesn't think in terms of how future generations will view him — of unmatched athletic contributions and unparalleled respect within the Tufts sports community.
"It means the world to me to give him this award," Gehling said. "When you lead a sports team, you have to try to buy into a single vision, and when you do that, the whole becomes greater than the sum of the parts. In an institution like Tufts, it's an almost impossible task to articulate a clear, unified vision, but I feel like he's done that amazingly well."
