Records are made to be broken. But some, they just refuse to be.

Like Usain Bolt’s 9.58 second 100m dash. The closest time ever run to that iconic sprint was 9.69 seconds. Over a tenth of a second slower than Bolt. Or, an eon in 100m time. 

Some other records, though, aren’t as prestigious as that 9.58 second sprint. Some records – just exist, daring to be smashed by the next Division III-level athlete with too much time on their hands.

See, national records don’t necessarily wind up being as hard to topple as world records. All an athlete needs to be is the best in their World Athletics recognized nation, and they can get a national record verified. 

In many cases, national records are on-par with, or in striking distance of, world records. But some nations are too small, or too preoccupied with more important matters than coaching citizens to jump high or run fast or throw far. 

You might think that the slowest national records belong to nations war-torn and in constant turmoil. Nations where citizens flee for their lives only to be rejected at each next border. Nations whose people would rather tolerate American xenophobia and racism than continue to live in danger. 

But more often than not, such nations have record times that someone in a more privileged nation would spend each waking free hour training to hit. 

Syria’s national marathon record is 2:26:27. It would’ve tied for 44th overall in 2019’s NYC Marathon. 

Instead, the slowest national records tend to belong to the smallest states on earth. Tiny places that tend to be locked, beneficially or otherwise, to larger nations. Places like American Samoa and the islands of Micronesia. 

Islands like Nauru. 

Nauru is a small country off the coast of Australia. Like really small.

It’s land made from a raised coral reef, and it’s only just over eight square miles big. 

Eight.

Encyclopedia Britannica describes it like a director might describe the setting of their horror movie.

“The plateau is largely composed of rock phosphate, leached from guano, or bird droppings. The mineral deposit covers more than two-thirds of the island, and its extraction has left irregular, pinnacle-shaped outcrops of limestone that give the landscape a forbidding, otherworldly appearance.”

It has no ports, harbors or stable anchorage points.

A population of 12,800, as estimated from 2019. And it’s projected to go down by about 1,000 by 2030. 

They have their own language, Nauruan, but it doesn’t have a sufficient written grammar, and it has few understood ties to other Micronesian languages. 

Still, it’s one of the most westernized countries in the south pacific. It has a diverse enough population where significant portions are made up of Australians, New Zealanders, Chinese, and Tuvaluans. 94% of the population is native. 

But with views like this, it’s actually quite beautiful. 

Nauru, is a mystery. And so is Karl Hartmann, who holds the marathon record for Nauru.

3:48:06.

He’s not the kind of guy you can find out about easily. A simple Wikipedia search for a list of national records in the marathon will give you his name, but no links to his own page. Or really any other information about him. I had to sift through the World Athletics booklet from Doha’s 2019 championships just to verify his record. 

Luckily, German Wikipedia had Hartmann (or as they spell it, Hartman) info I couldn’t find anywhere else. 

Trudging through translated phrases like “he was responsible for 10,000 Meters reported on August 14, but has not raced for this,” and “he was since June 1977 married to Aureana Eidogoga Scotty,” I was able to find just a little bit more about him. 

Importantly, 10,000 Meters were mentioned. So he must’ve competed in the 10K somewhere, sometime – right? 

Maybe Hartmann was a sub-elite runner at some point – just maybe he even had a track career. 

With some more digging I found an archived article on the National Library of Australia’s website. It said a young Hartmann was projected to rise in the coming year. 

“Nauru, with its distance runners, Robbie Morgan-Morris, 36, and Tony Bowditch, and its discus gold-medallist, Lois Lax, unlikely to reappear in Tahiti, has a couple of Nauruan distance prospects. They are Karl Hartmann, 19, and Karl Tabwia, 17. They should do well in ‘71.”

Through more digging, I never found how Hartmann, or Tabwia for that matter, did in the ‘71 season. 

All I found was one result aside from Hartmann’s national record. A result sheet from the 1969 South Pacific Games in Papua New Guinea, where he was slated to run the 10K

Racers toed up to the line of the 10,000 Meter final. The gun went off, and he wasn’t there.

His countrymate, Bowditch, was signed up for the Marathon at the same meet. 

It was his turn to toe the line. The gun went off, and Bowditch started with it. But he never finished the race. 

Bowditch could’ve changed the narrative of this whole story on that day. He could’ve been the fastest marathoner ever to hit the roads of Nauru, at the age of 16. 

We’ll never know why Hartmann never toed the line with his competitors, or when, where and why Bowditch dropped out of that marathon. All we can assume – is that they tried. 

Karl Hartmann died on Feb. 14, 1999. He was 49. 

These are the stories of the athletes who compete for their nations – no matter how futile the times might seem after it’s all over. The people who, truly more than any other, compete for the love of sport. 

But even the likes of Bowditch and Hartmann don’t have that coveted marathoning crown. That bragging right that few people left in the world have the opportunity to take away. 

The slowest national record in the marathon.

Even Hartmann’s 3:48:06 – a time over an hour slower than the Syrian record and nearly two hours slower than the world record – isn’t the slowest record time recorded by a nation across that distance. 

That title belongs to Anguilla and its prodigy tennis player, Vallan-Hodge-Richardson. 

Anguilla is another small island nation. It’s in the northern Caribbean and measures at just about 35 square miles. 

It has a population just over 15,000. Off its coast are numerous cays and other small islands without permanent populations. It’s beyond scenic. 

He’s an easier man to dig up information on. 

Well-regarded in the Anguillan tennis community, he’s touted as a local hero. He works for an Anguillan Four Seasons as a resort tennis pro. He teaches lessons, keeps visitors active and tries to keep the fun alive in the sport. 

According to his bio on the Four Seasons’ site, he’s been recognized as one of Anguilla’s top tennis players since age 15 and was awarded top tennis player of the year in 2005.

So what on earth is he doing with the Anguillan national record in the marathon? 

Well, Richardson wasn’t running to break any records. He wasn’t running for personal glory. He wasn’t even really running for fun. 

Richardson was running for something bigger than himself. 

On October 29, 2013, Richardson hopped on to a plane to New York to run The U.S.’s biggest marathon. 

Richardson helped out at the Anguillan Tennis Academy, teaching young athletes how to play the game. Their focus is on empowering youth through tennis. 

Richardson left his home of Anguilla not just to run the NYC Marathon, but to bring awareness to his country, and the children in need who he helped the only way he knew how – through tennis. 

“Vallan is a great role model and ambassador for Anguilla,” said Anguillan Tennis Academy founder Mitch Lake in a Facebook post.  

“He has sacrificed for six long months to prepare for this marathon. Anguillans at home and abroad should be proud of Vallan and make a contribution towards the advancement of his cause.”

Richardson was looking to raise money for the foundation and help get those kids he was trying to empower through tennis the best empowerment he could think of – scholarships. 

Richardson woke up brutally early that Nov. 3 morning. He toed the line on Staten Island to cross the Verrazano bridge and run toward Brooklyn, then Queens, The Bronx – and finally into Central Park. 

A 26.2-mile trek through every borough of the biggest city in the states. 

A 26.2-mile trek that Bowditch couldn’t finish. 

But Richardson could finish. Richardson had those kids leaning on him.

He willed himself to a 5:06:05 and a national record. 

Keithroy Proctor, Nzingha Banks and Avern Gumbs each recieved full scholarships to U.S. schools. They all kept playing tennis.