Most of us, if we're lucky, we'll get to our nineties and think maybe it's time for a sit down. Not mar Kore. She'd never been an athlete, but in two thousand and nine, aged ninety three, she decided to take up running. Hey, I'm Tony Armstrong. Welcome to the ballroom where we celebrate the winners, losers and the weird stuff between. Man Kor might have had a late entry to athletics, but it was clear from a young age how driven and spirited she was. Her mother died in childbirth and she was raised by her grandparents im Patiala in the northwest of India. They tried to send her to school, but she wasn't having it. Marn was an entrepreneur. She earned money weaving drawstrings for pajamas, milling wheat by hand, and spinning thread. Then in her twenties, she became a nanny and maid in the Royal Palace, where she served one of the Maharaja's three hundred and sixty queens before having three children of her own. One of those three kids was the son Gerdev Singh. He was a longtime track and field athlete with more than eighty medals to his name. As Marn got older, Gerdev urged her to join him on the track. He said it was mostly on a whim, but he also wanted to help keep her fit. What he maybe didn't expect was her drive to become well a world champion. Gerdev took Marn to the university track where he trained and asked her to run four hundred meters. She did slowly but confidently, and she enjoyed it. They went back a second time and ran a bit harder and faster. Marn quickly improved, and her son made a wild suggestion what if she joined him at his international events. She didn't need to be asked twice. Marn's late in life athletics career had begun. She claimed her first hardware in two thousand and seven at the Chundaga Masters in India, which she said she did for the heck of it. It was her first medal of many. Gerdev took on the role of Man's coach, and mother and son packed their gear to travel the globe, competing in dozens of Masters athletics events. In twenty sixteen, at age one hundred, Man ran the one hundred meters dash at the American Masters Games in Vancouver, finishing in one minute and twenty seven seconds to take the gold. The next year, she broke her own world record in New Zealand. Her competitors, much younger women only in their seventies and eighties, cheered from the finish line. Marn was officially the world's fastest centenarian, but running wasn't her only event. In twenty nineteen in Poland, she won four events in her age category, the sixty meter sprint, two hundred meters sprint, shot put and javelin. Just a reminder, she was one hundred and three years old at the time. Marn was an inspiration, encouraging other old ladies, as she put it, to take up running and to make their children part of the adventure like she had. Marn and Gerdev were invited to share their achievements with UNI students. It wasn't hard, she told them, just a simple diet with plenty of nuts and homegrown soy milk, plus a twenty kilometer run every morning. Easy. Speaking of Gerdev, it's probably also important to remember that he was as well as her coach and a decorated athlete in his eighties. While this was happening, a casual run around a university track had become a family tradition. Mancore died in twenty twenty one. She was one hundred and five years old and for more than a decade she proved that age was no barrier. They called her the Miracle from Chundagar and she was. Man calls, drive, tenacity and fearlessness earned her the Narri Shakti Perrasca Award for Women's Empowerment, the highest honor for a civilian in India and a permanent place in the nation's heart. You've been listening to an iHeart production the pool room with me, Tony Armstrong. Catch you next time.

Most of us, if we're lucky, we'll get to our nineties and think maybe it's time for a sit down. Not mar Kore. She'd never been an athlete, but in two thousand and nine, aged ninety three, she decided to take up running. Hey, I'm Tony Armstrong. Welcome to the ballroom where we celebrate the winners, losers and the weird stuff between. Man Kor might have had a late entry to athletics, but it was clear from a young age how driven and spirited she was. Her mother died in childbirth and she was raised by her grandparents im Patiala in the northwest of India. They tried to send her to school, but she wasn't having it. Marn was an entrepreneur. She earned money weaving drawstrings for pajamas, milling wheat by hand, and spinning thread. Then in her twenties, she became a nanny and maid in the Royal Palace, where she served one of the Maharaja's three hundred and sixty queens before having three children of her own. One of those three kids was the son Gerdev Singh. He was a longtime track and field athlete with more than eighty medals to his name. As Marn got older, Gerdev urged her to join him on the track. He said it was mostly on a whim, but he also wanted to help keep her fit. What he maybe didn't expect was her drive to become well a world champion. Gerdev took Marn to the university track where he trained and asked her to run four hundred meters. She did slowly but confidently, and she enjoyed it. They went back a second time and ran a bit harder and faster. Marn quickly improved, and her son made a wild suggestion what if she joined him at his international events. She didn't need to be asked twice. Marn's late in life athletics career had begun. She claimed her first hardware in two thousand and seven at the Chundaga Masters in India, which she said she did for the heck of it. It was her first medal of many. Gerdev took on the role of Man's coach, and mother and son packed their gear to travel the globe, competing in dozens of Masters athletics events. In twenty sixteen, at age one hundred, Man ran the one hundred meters dash at the American Masters Games in Vancouver, finishing in one minute and twenty seven seconds to take the gold. The next year, she broke her own world record in New Zealand. Her competitors, much younger women only in their seventies and eighties, cheered from the finish line. Marn was officially the world's fastest centenarian, but running wasn't her only event. In twenty nineteen in Poland, she won four events in her age category, the sixty meter sprint, two hundred meters sprint, shot put and javelin. Just a reminder, she was one hundred and three years old at the time. Marn was an inspiration, encouraging other old ladies, as she put it, to take up running and to make their children part of the adventure like she had. Marn and Gerdev were invited to share their achievements with UNI students. It wasn't hard, she told them, just a simple diet with plenty of nuts and homegrown soy milk, plus a twenty kilometer run every morning. Easy. Speaking of Gerdev, it's probably also important to remember that he was as well as her coach and a decorated athlete in his eighties. While this was happening, a casual run around a university track had become a family tradition. Mancore died in twenty twenty one. She was one hundred and five years old and for more than a decade she proved that age was no barrier. They called her the Miracle from Chundagar and she was. Man calls, drive, tenacity and fearlessness earned her the Narri Shakti Perrasca Award for Women's Empowerment, the highest honor for a civilian in India and a permanent place in the nation's heart. You've been listening to an iHeart production the pool room with me, Tony Armstrong. Catch you next time.