The groundbreaking “If You Let Me Play” ads were more than a decade away (“I will have more self-confidence…I will learn to be strong”), but Nike’s commitment to women showed through 2 world-class runners. As a 12-year-old, Mary Decker Slaney ran a 440, 880, mile, 2-mile and a marathon in one week. In ‘82, she set indoor world records in the 2000 and 3000 and outdoor marks in the 5000, mile and 10,000. What Mary was to middle distance, Joan Benoit was to distance: her ‘83 Boston Marathon record was her second; that same year, she set U.S. records in the 10km, the half-marathon, the 10-mile and 25km. We knew we could be a running company—and, inspired by athletes brimming with self-confidence and strength, we knew we could be a women’s company, too. It started in ‘83 as something called the Cities Campaign: murals and billboards featuring Nike-endorsed athletes sprang up throughout L.A. By ‘84, the campaign spread to 8 other U.S. cities—and the sun was ready to shine on Nike and the home team during the Los Angeles Games. U.S. athletes carted off more medals than ever, led by Carl Lewis’ 4 Golds and Joan Benoit’s triumph in the first women’s Olympic marathon. Both wore the Swoosh, as did another 56 athletes from around the world who took home 65 medals. “We Love L.A.” emanated from the TV, as Nike’s ad became the soundtrack for what seemed an endless summer—and in our evolving legacy, that’s what it was destined to be. At 7 a.m. December 30, 1986, Julie Papen buckled herself in to drive to work at Nike. Around 7:20, she stopped at a deli, then got into her car for the minute-and-a-half trip to work. 60 seconds later, she got broadsided, hit the windshield and ended up in the passenger seat with a broken neck. She still can’t believe she didn’t put her seatbelt on. For the next 6 months, Julie was either in traction, wearing a halo or entertaining visitors from work. When she left the hospital in April, a group of Nike employees pooled some money and bought her a speakerphone—an expensive item in those days. When she came back to work, she still couldn’t drive and was only able to put in 3 or 4 hours a day—not the kind of progress she’d been hoping for. So she found a rehab center in California she thought could give her the help she needed. A catch: she’d have to live there for 6 to 9 months, and she didn’t want to leave Nike. She wrote a letter asking for a leave of absence to Phil Knight. Phil told Julie to go. Julie says, “I was on my way.” Julie Papen is an incomplete quadriplegic—she has some movement in her legs, not much in her hands. For what it’s worth, she’s also a two-time triathlete. And that’s since 1986. In a conversation with Nike employees, an advertising executive says: “You Nike guys, you just do it.” That’s the whole story. People still remember when they first saw the Air Huarache. They didn’t know if it was sandal, shoe, or something in between. Its logo—an intersection of lines forming a hovering H—reinforced its sense of not being of this footwear world. Still, its roots were historical: named after, and inspired by, the braided leather Mexican sandal, it was an evolutionary moment grounded in reality, yet pointing toward a future of ever lighter-weight footwear—from running, to training, to Presto. Its profile inspired by a hiking boot, its distinctive eyestay grabbed from running, the Air Force 1 was Nike’s elite basketball shoe in 1983. It was first highlighted in ads that claimed, “…air will be sold by the box” and the more technical “the Proprioceptus Belt exerts slight pressure to the base of the tibia and fibula…” A few years later, Proprioceptus Belt-conscious skateboarders and breakdancers gave it new life off the hardwood—and it’s still seen on NBA courts today. In the late ‘70s, Frank Rudy has an idea for athletic footwear. It’s air. Other companies get a taste of it, but we bite. Air-Sole units underfoot seem crazy, but also seem to work. By ‘79, Nike-Air cushioning — urethane bags filled with pressurized gas that compress under impact, then spring back to cushion the next blow—debuts in the Tailwind shoe. In the ‘80s, the idea set us apart: in ‘82, we introduced it in basketball and tennis; by ‘87, Nike-Air—now visible— has firmly established the 15-year-old brand as the industry’s technological leader. In 1984, a prominent Oregon sports organization could’ve invited Michael Jordan into its fold. The Blazers declined. Fortunately, in ‘85, we saw something they didn’t, and signed a rookie who was about to enter international iconography in a succession of black and red shoes. Just as Jordan changed the game , Nike designers knew that basketball shoes could reach new heights. The result: a shoe so hot it was banned from the league (sales inevitably soared). Playing in them in spite of the ban, Michael earned a trip to the All-Star Game, collected Rookie of the Year honors, and…we’re gonna guess you probably know the rest. In 1990, the World Campus opens in Beaverton. It’s a futuristic blend of college campus and European village—a place where work, play and 2,500 employees can come together in the name of sport. European Headquarters will open 9 years later, globalizing the building phenomenon. In downtown Portland, the first Nike Town store opens, and 2 years later, Nike Town Chicago’s 60,000 square feet become the Windy City’s #1 tourist attraction. More than a place to get your gear, Nike Town stores were—and are—places to get inspired. Nike World Campus, European Headquarters and Nike Town stores: more than buildings—they’re concrete examples of Nike’s blueprint for the future.