Running News Daily

On August 9, 1936, Sohn Kee-chung crossed the finish line of the Olympic marathon in Berlin in 2:29:19.2, becoming the first Korean to win an Olympic gold medal.

But there was a painful contradiction behind the triumph.

The scoreboard did not identify him as Sohn Kee-chung. It listed him as Kitei Son — the Japanese pronunciation of his Korean name. And instead of competing for Korea, he was officially entered as a member of the Japanese delegation because Korea had been under Japanese colonial rule since 1910.

Sohn was born in 1912 near Sinuiju, in what is now North Pyongan Province, and emerged as one of the outstanding distance runners of his generation. His talent became impossible to ignore in the 1930s, and in November 1935 he ran 2:26:42 in Tokyo to set a world marathon record.

By the time he arrived in Berlin, Sohn was already a world-class marathoner. Yet his greatest sporting achievement would unfold under an identity that had been imposed upon him.

He was not permitted to compete under his Korean name. He was not permitted to carry the Korean flag. His uniform bore the Japanese emblem.

And even after winning Olympic gold, he could not celebrate as a Korean champion.

Sohn won the marathon ahead of Britain's Ernie Harper, while another Korean, Nam Sung-yong, claimed bronze. Sohn became the first Olympic marathoner to break the 2:30 barrier, with his 2:29:19.2 Olympic record standing as a remarkable achievement. Importantly, however, his Berlin time was not a world record — his world-best mark had come the previous year in Tokyo.

The medal ceremony became one of the most haunting images in Olympic history.

As the Japanese flag was raised and the Japanese anthem played, Sohn stood on the top step of the podium with his head lowered. Nam Sung-yong stood beside him on the third step. Neither athlete was able to represent the nation from which they came.

Sohn held the laurel wreath he had received for winning the marathon across his chest, concealing the Japanese flag on his uniform.

The gesture was silent.

But the message was powerful.

He had won the race for himself and for Korea, even though the official ceremony claimed him for Japan.

Back home, Koreans celebrated his victory with enormous pride. For many, Sohn's success was a rare moment of national affirmation during colonial rule. Yet the emotions were complicated. Some Korean nationalists viewed participation in the Japanese team as a painful compromise, while others saw Sohn's victory as a powerful act of resistance against the colonial claim that Koreans were inferior.

The reaction of the Korean press became another chapter in the story.

On August 25, 1936, the Dong-A Ilbo published the famous photograph of Sohn on the podium with the Japanese flag removed from his uniform. The newspaper's journalists had deliberately erased the emblem — an act of defiance against Japan's colonial authorities. The incident triggered a major crackdown. Multiple journalists were arrested, and the newspaper was forced to suspend publication for months. Historical accounts record that eight people involved were imprisoned and that the paper was suspended for roughly nine months.

The photograph became more than an image of an Olympic champion.

It became an image of a nation trying to preserve its identity.

After Korea was liberated in 1945, Sohn's life took a new direction. He became an influential coach and helped develop the next generation of Korean distance runners. Among those he guided were Suh Yun-bok, who won the Boston Marathon in 1947, and Ham Ki-yong, the 1950 Boston Marathon champion. Sohn also served in various athletic organizations in South Korea.

In 1948, he carried the flag for the newly independent Republic of Korea at the London Olympics — another deeply symbolic moment in a life that had begun with his identity being taken from him on an Olympic starting line.

Decades later, Sohn returned to Germany and, in 1972, attended the Munich Olympics. There, he was reunited with filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl, whose film Olympia had documented the 1936 Berlin Games.

Today, Sohn Kee-chung’s legacy is also preserved in Seoul, South Korea, where a statue of the legendary marathoner stands at Sohn Kee-chung Athletic Park, near the memorial hall named in his honor. The memorial site includes a bronze head statue created in 1990, depicting Sohn in his later years, with scenes from his historic 1936 Berlin victory engraved below. Another statue, unveiled in 2016 to mark the 80th anniversary of his Olympic triumph, portrays the young Sohn proudly holding the Olympic trophy — this time with the South Korean flag in place of the Japanese emblem that had appeared on his uniform in Berlin.

But perhaps the most emotional chapter came in Seoul.

On September 17, 1988, 52 years after his Berlin triumph, the 76-year-old Sohn Kee-chung carried the Olympic torch into the stadium at the opening ceremony of the Seoul Olympics.

Think about what that moment represented.

In Berlin in 1936, he had stood on the Olympic podium beneath a foreign flag, unable to openly celebrate his victory as a Korean.

In Seoul in 1988, he entered an Olympic stadium carrying the flame for his own country.

The symbolism was almost impossible to miss.

The young runner who had once been forced to compete under the name Kitei Son was now an elderly Korean national hero, carrying the Olympic flame before his people.

He had spent more than five decades watching history slowly return his name to him.

Sohn Kee-chung died in November 15, 2002, aged 90, in Seoul, South Korea leaving behind far more than an Olympic medal. He left a story about athletic greatness, identity, dignity and resistance — a story in which a marathon victory became inseparable from the history of an entire nation.

His Berlin gold medal may have been officially recorded under Japan's name.

But in Korea, the champion was always Sohn Kee-chung.

And perhaps that is why the photograph of him standing on the podium, head bowed and the laurel wreath covering the Japanese emblem, remains so powerful.

He won the race in Berlin. But the world took decades to understand who had actually won it.