On USC's track team, Louie was a juggernaut. Focused on winning in Tokyo in 1940, he smashed record after record at multiple distances and routinely buried his competition by giant margins, once winning a race by one hundred yards. By the spring of 1938, he'd whittled his mile time down to 4:13. 7, some seven seconds off the world record, which now stood at 4:06. 4. His coach predicted that Louie would take the record down. The only runner who could beat his, the coach said, was Seabiscuit. One afternoon in 1938, Glenn Cunningham stood in the Los Angeles Coliseum locker room, talking with reporters after winning a race. "There's the next mile champion," he said, leveling his eyes across the room. "When he concentrates on this distance, he'll be unbeatable." The reporters turned to see who Cunningham was looking at. It was Louie, blushing to the roots of his hair. In the 1930s, track experts were beginning to toss around the idea of a four-minute mile. Most observers, including Cunningham, had long believed that it couldn't be done. In 1935, when Cunningham's record of 4:06. 7 reigned, and science weighed in. Studying data on human structural limits compiled by Finnish mathematicians, famed track coach Brutus Hamilton penned an article for Amateur Athlete magazine stating that a four-minute mile was impossible. The fastest a human could run a mile, he wrote, was 4:01. 6. Pete disagreed. Since the Olympics, he'd been certain that Pete disagreed. Since the Olympics, he'd been certain that Louie had a four-minute mile in him. Louie had always shaken this off, but in the spring of '38, he reconsidered. His coach had forbidden him to run hills on the mistaken but common belief that it would damage his heart, but Louie didn't buy the warnings. Every night that May he climbed the coliseum fence, dropped into the stadium, and ran the stairs until his legs went numb. By June, his body was humming capable of speed and stamina beyond anything he'd ever known. He began to think that Pete was right and he wasn't alone. Running pundits, including Olympic champion sprinter Charlie Paddock, published articles stating that Louie could be the first four-minute man. Cunningham, too, had changed his mind. He thought that four minutes might be within Louie's reach. Zamperini, Cunningham told a reporter, was more likely to crack four minutes than he was. In June 1938, Louie arrived at the NCAA Championships in Minneapolis gunning for four minutes. Spilling over with eagerness, he babbled to other athletes about his new training regim...
