Chris McKenzie, world-class runner and Great Neck coach, dies at 93
Chris McKenzie, a longtime cross country and track and field coach for the Great Neck School District, was a world-class runner who was a catalyst for change in American sports. Credit: Tina S. Bickerstaff
Maud Christina McKenzie was a trailblazing athlete who brought a tenacious attitude to every aspect of her life.
Even later in life, while physically struggling to help her oldest son, Adam McKenzie, clean up at a track meet, she refused to quit.
“We were cleaning up and moving hurdles — she was in her 90s, just barely walking — and she wouldn’t put the hurdles down,” he said. “I said, ‘Will you just leave it?’ And she yelled back, ‘I can do it, don’t tell me what to do.’
“You just couldn’t stop her,” he continued. “Just that will, and that never-quit attitude got her through so many things.”
Long before she was powering through cleanups after meets, Chris McKenzie was working through grander, tougher conflicts. McKenzie, who died on April 17 in hospice care in Melville, overcame disease, homelessness and gender discrimination to become a world-class runner and a catalyst for change in American sports. She was 93.
McKenzie was also a longtime cross country and track and field coach for the Great Neck School District. 4
In 1936, at age 5 and living in London, McKenzie was diagnosed with osteomyelitis — a rare bone infection in her leg. A doctor told her she would never be able to walk without a brace or partake in physical activity.
McKenzie and her family were bombed out of their house nine times by during World War II, relegating them to living in bomb shelters. That's when she met Olympic runner Anne Stone, who began to teach her how to run.
After three years of training with Stone, McKenzie was able to shed her brace at 16 years old. After that, she began her athletic career and joined a local running club. Six years later, in 1953, she ran a 2:10.2 split in a 3 x 880-yard relay race in a dual meet between Britain and France, which was a world record.
“She just didn’t quit,” Adam McKenzie said. “No matter what it was. She didn’t know that word. She would power through everything.”
The day she broke the record, an American runner and future Olympian named Gordon McKenzie was in attendance and randomly decided to time her leg of the relay with his personal stopwatch. He clocked her record-breaking time, but her split was announced over the loudspeaker as a 2:16.1. He got her attention to try to tell her they messed up her time, but instead of earning her gratitude, he drew her ire.
“Being from England, my mother didn’t particularly like Americans because of how they presented themselves during the war,” daughter Tina Bickerstaff said. “My mother says to him, ‘Oh, you Americans think you know everything. Do you think your stopwatch is going to be more accurate than the official meet time?’ ”
An official apology was issued to McKenzie, whose last name was Slemon then, and her time was corrected. Afterward, Gordon McKenzie and Slemon became pen pals, writing to each other in the ensuing months. Soon after, Slemon broke up with her fiance and McKenzie came to London to court her.
By May 1955, Slemon had moved to the United States. On Oct. 9, 1955, the two were married, and she officially became Chris McKenzie.
American track officials would not allow women to compete in athletic events that were longer than 200 meters or 220 yards. McKenzie protested that ruling by doing things such as competing in men’s road races uninvited, which inspired others to do the same.
But by 1958, the Amateur Athletic Union (AAU) allowed American women to compete for a national championship in the 440- and 880-yard runs. McKenzie won that first 440 championship.
McKenzie continued her protests over the years by running long distances. In the 1960s, she became the first woman to run up Mount Washington in New Hampshire. She also was the first woman in America to run 5,000 and 10,000 meters.
“It’s amazing to me because I’m the father of daughters,” son Stu McKenzie said. “My daughters take this to heart, and they totally understand that they would not be where they are had it not been for my mom. She bucked the system and set down things for women’s running for decades to come.”
In January 1962, the McKenzies moved to Great Neck. In 1987, she became a cross country and track and field coach in the Great Neck School District — a position she held for 25 years. She also coached in the Police Athletic League and stayed involved with it until age 90.
Chris McKenzie coached Cecilia Madison at Great Neck South from 1988-92. The two kept in touch after Madison graduated.
“She’s very influential in terms of the woman that I’ve become today,” said Madison, who is now an executive coach at Ernst & Young in Atlanta. “She was more than a coach. She came to my wedding. If we ever couldn’t get a bus to a meet, she would chauffeur us there. She was always personally invested.”
The determination that McKenzie showed as an athlete, a protester and a coach carried into the household, where it shaped her three children.
“Very similarly to my mom, I’m totally undaunted,” Bickerstaff said. “I became a geologist when there weren’t really any female geologists. In middle and high school, there wasn’t a girls track team, so I went out and fought and was successful on the boys team. I’m a three-time cancer survivor, and with the support my mom and dad gave me during that time, I never missed a day of work.”
McKenzie also was active in the community. She ran a successful playgroup for over 20 years. She volunteered with the Meals on Wheels program, as well as other things such as garbage cleanups and church bazaars. She would even provide temporary shelter to British immigrants who had nowhere to stay.
"The life that she lived was just unbelievable," Adam McKenzie said. "A lot of people have parents that don't do a fraction of what she did in her lifetime. It just makes me very proud and humbled. It's just heartwarming and soothing to know that she left such an impact on the world."
In addition to her children, McKenzie is survived by six grandchildren: Kate Bickerstaff, Gordon Bickerstaff, Alexandra McKenzie, Maggie McKenzie, Kallie McKenzie and Andrew McKenzie.
Maud Christina McKenzie was a trailblazing athlete who brought a tenacious attitude to every aspect of her life.
Even later in life, while physically struggling to help her oldest son, Adam McKenzie, clean up at a track meet, she refused to quit.
“We were cleaning up and moving hurdles — she was in her 90s, just barely walking — and she wouldn’t put the hurdles down,” he said. “I said, ‘Will you just leave it?’ And she yelled back, ‘I can do it, don’t tell me what to do.’
“You just couldn’t stop her,” he continued. “Just that will, and that never-quit attitude got her through so many things.”
Long before she was powering through cleanups after meets, Chris McKenzie was working through grander, tougher conflicts. McKenzie, who died on April 17 in hospice care in Melville, overcame disease, homelessness and gender discrimination to become a world-class runner and a catalyst for change in American sports. She was 93.
McKenzie was also a longtime cross country and track and field coach for the Great Neck School District. 4
In 1936, at age 5 and living in London, McKenzie was diagnosed with osteomyelitis — a rare bone infection in her leg. A doctor told her she would never be able to walk without a brace or partake in physical activity.
McKenzie and her family were bombed out of their house nine times by during World War II, relegating them to living in bomb shelters. That's when she met Olympic runner Anne Stone, who began to teach her how to run.
After three years of training with Stone, McKenzie was able to shed her brace at 16 years old. After that, she began her athletic career and joined a local running club. Six years later, in 1953, she ran a 2:10.2 split in a 3 x 880-yard relay race in a dual meet between Britain and France, which was a world record.
“She just didn’t quit,” Adam McKenzie said. “No matter what it was. She didn’t know that word. She would power through everything.”
The day she broke the record, an American runner and future Olympian named Gordon McKenzie was in attendance and randomly decided to time her leg of the relay with his personal stopwatch. He clocked her record-breaking time, but her split was announced over the loudspeaker as a 2:16.1. He got her attention to try to tell her they messed up her time, but instead of earning her gratitude, he drew her ire.
“Being from England, my mother didn’t particularly like Americans because of how they presented themselves during the war,” daughter Tina Bickerstaff said. “My mother says to him, ‘Oh, you Americans think you know everything. Do you think your stopwatch is going to be more accurate than the official meet time?’ ”
An official apology was issued to McKenzie, whose last name was Slemon then, and her time was corrected. Afterward, Gordon McKenzie and Slemon became pen pals, writing to each other in the ensuing months. Soon after, Slemon broke up with her fiance and McKenzie came to London to court her.
By May 1955, Slemon had moved to the United States. On Oct. 9, 1955, the two were married, and she officially became Chris McKenzie.
American track officials would not allow women to compete in athletic events that were longer than 200 meters or 220 yards. McKenzie protested that ruling by doing things such as competing in men’s road races uninvited, which inspired others to do the same.
But by 1958, the Amateur Athletic Union (AAU) allowed American women to compete for a national championship in the 440- and 880-yard runs. McKenzie won that first 440 championship.
McKenzie continued her protests over the years by running long distances. In the 1960s, she became the first woman to run up Mount Washington in New Hampshire. She also was the first woman in America to run 5,000 and 10,000 meters.
“It’s amazing to me because I’m the father of daughters,” son Stu McKenzie said. “My daughters take this to heart, and they totally understand that they would not be where they are had it not been for my mom. She bucked the system and set down things for women’s running for decades to come.”
In January 1962, the McKenzies moved to Great Neck. In 1987, she became a cross country and track and field coach in the Great Neck School District — a position she held for 25 years. She also coached in the Police Athletic League and stayed involved with it until age 90.
Chris McKenzie coached Cecilia Madison at Great Neck South from 1988-92. The two kept in touch after Madison graduated.
“She’s very influential in terms of the woman that I’ve become today,” said Madison, who is now an executive coach at Ernst & Young in Atlanta. “She was more than a coach. She came to my wedding. If we ever couldn’t get a bus to a meet, she would chauffeur us there. She was always personally invested.”
The determination that McKenzie showed as an athlete, a protester and a coach carried into the household, where it shaped her three children.
“Very similarly to my mom, I’m totally undaunted,” Bickerstaff said. “I became a geologist when there weren’t really any female geologists. In middle and high school, there wasn’t a girls track team, so I went out and fought and was successful on the boys team. I’m a three-time cancer survivor, and with the support my mom and dad gave me during that time, I never missed a day of work.”
McKenzie also was active in the community. She ran a successful playgroup for over 20 years. She volunteered with the Meals on Wheels program, as well as other things such as garbage cleanups and church bazaars. She would even provide temporary shelter to British immigrants who had nowhere to stay.
"The life that she lived was just unbelievable," Adam McKenzie said. "A lot of people have parents that don't do a fraction of what she did in her lifetime. It just makes me very proud and humbled. It's just heartwarming and soothing to know that she left such an impact on the world."
In addition to her children, McKenzie is survived by six grandchildren: Kate Bickerstaff, Gordon Bickerstaff, Alexandra McKenzie, Maggie McKenzie, Kallie McKenzie and Andrew McKenzie.
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