Running Times, Online

by Joel Tetreault & Erin Gemmill

1. Introduction

In a previous article (One Runner’s View: Age and the Elite Marathon [March 16]), we looked at one of the age-old questions in sport: “for a particular event or sport, is there an optimal age to compete?” Specifically, we looked at the ages of elite male marathoners to see if there were in fact any trends in the age at which male marathoners tended to medal, or set the fastest time.

The marathon, in particular, is an interesting event to focus on because of the conflicting opinion on when to focus on the marathon. One school of thought says that the marathon should be tried early on, while on the other hand, some believe that the marathon should be tried after one is no longer improving in the shorter track events (which assumes speed has been maximized).

On the men’s side, this dichotomy was apparent in our previous study: European countries, which followed the latter school of thought, had marathoners setting PRs over the average, while major marathon countries such as Kenya and Japan had marathoners running their best times just under the average. In addition, we observed that 27 years was the average for an elite marathoner to PR and also most likely win an Olympic medal. We found no trend in the age of PR or medaling over time. That is, per decade, the average age to PR or get an Olympic medal has hovered around 27 years.

In this article, we now look at the women’s statistics to see if our previous observations with the men generalize across genders. Looking at the ages of the top 10 women, we can already see some differences with the men:

Although the average age of the top 10 all-time performers for women is very similar to the top 10 men (28.40 to 28.70), the distribution of the ages is different. While the men have half of the top 10 over 30, and 3 under 26 years old, the women have exhibit a much tighter distribution: only two are over 30, and the youngest is 25.In this article, we look at the same questions as last time:

• Are younger runners more likely to medal in the Olympic marathon than older ones? What is the average age of an Olympic marathon medalist?
• Is there a trend (increasing or decreasing) over the last 100 years of Olympics for athletes of a certain age to be more likely to medal?
• At what age is someone most likely to PR in the marathon? (What is the average age that an elite marathoner PR’s?)
• Are there any trends over the decades regarding this average age? (Maybe runners from the 1950s were more likely to PR in their later years, rather than runners now)
• Being more specific, what is the average PR age of top level marathoners per country? (Do successful marathon countries have guys that are older or younger than the norm?)

It is important to remember that because women have been marathoning for a short period of time compared to the men, there is a lot less data from which to derive reliable conclusions, so take the analysis with a grain of salt.
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by David Griffin

I watched her first high school race in the fall of 2003. She stood on that starting line without any expectations. Now, I’ve watched her last high school race, as she crossed the finish line of a journey that is hard to describe in 500 words.

Between her first race, and her last, she found peace on the trails where she ran. She tested herself and overcame fears. She learned what it feels like to go beyond her wildest dreams, and learned to deal with the disappointment of falling short. Each race offered its own challenge, each run a new opportunity. And, from the firing of that first starter’s pistol, to the very last home stretch, she’s grown with each passing stride.

Why is it that I’ve watched her so closely? Well, I guess it’s because I love her so much. It’s because the sun rises and falls around her. It’s because I was the first person to hold her, the day I became her Dad.

My daughter has excelled in school. She has taken courses that have challenged her and she’s responded to those challenges. She’s held leadership positions and earned the respect of her teachers and her peers. This fall, she’s moving on to a prestigious college.

But, there will be times when what she learned in the classroom will not have prepared her for what lies ahead. There will be days when the workload is heavy and the deadlines are looming. There will be days when nothing is going right and success seems impossible. But, she’s ready for that too.

She knows what it feels like to be in over her head and find the courage to get through. She knows that even when the hill seems to go on forever, that there’s a down hill on the other side. She knows that no matter how hard things may seem, the finish line lies ahead.

She has discipline and she knows that things of value aren’t earned without sacrifice. Her greatest strength lies deep inside her, and she knows where to find it. So, when knowledge and reason and critical thinking just aren’t enough, she has more than what she needs to muscle through.

Some time ago, we took a run together. We were on an isolated trail and the only things near us were things you can find in any forest or near any lake. The miles passed easily as we talked about whatever it was that came to mind. It was peaceful, and any trouble we were facing just got further and further behind us.

And so, if all else fails, she knows she has that too – the freedom to put it all behind her, clear her lungs and her mind, and come back with a fresh perspective. What could be more valuable than that?

I’m going to miss her. There will be an emptiness not easily filled. I’ll get over it, I know. And, as I watch her run off toward what lies ahead, I know she’s ready for whatever she finds. After all, my daughter is a runner.

by Jonathan Beverly

I’m driving across Nebraska, wondering what to dream about now.

One year ago, Brett, the best high school runner that I coach ran a school record in the 800m (1:57.42) and placed fourth in the state meet. Since then his focus has been on one thing: finishing first this year, his final year. I, as his friend and mentor, adopted the dream as well.

During the summer, he ran 50 mile weeks, stadium steps and barefoot windsprints. He went to the CU running camp in Boulder. He did a twenty miler on a 90˙ F day in August, and finished looking like he could run another ten.

Cross country came and went, but never quite lived up to Brett’s expectations. During the winter off-season, the stakes were raised when the coach at the University of Nebraska, where he was accepted, said he needed to run a 1:55.5 to be able to run on the team. This too seemed probable, and certainly in line with winning state.

In February, he did a “pre-track” training program, running 200s and 400s on the road in front of the school because the track was too icy. When he could get on the track, he ran a test 800m ten seconds faster than his opening race a year ago. Our hopes were high.

I had begun to realize that I, who barely broke 5 minutes for the mile in my life, but ran a 3:03 marathon as a 17 year old, knew very little about running two laps in 58 seconds each. The head coach consulted local experts. I consulted Brad Hudson, Owen Anderson, Roy Benson, Rich Kenah. Brett did everything we asked, and trusted that we would get him ready.

He won every 800m during the season, many by wide margins. Yet he never broke that 1:57.4. His best attempt was a 1:58 on a windy day in April. At districts, he started slowly with a 60 second first lap, then kicked past most of the field to take second place with another 1:58. In front of him: last year’s state champion. Coming into the state meet in Omaha, these two runners, from neighboring towns in the far south-western corner of the state, would be ranked #1 and #2.

The trip to State is an epic journey: 345 miles – equivalent to driving from Boston through Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York City, New Jersey and Philadelphia, to Wilmington, Delaware. We start on the Colorado border, amid semi-arid sandhills covered with sagebrush, cattle and old-fashioned windmills pumping water into metal tanks, and make our way east, through huge circles of irrigated cropland, over the rolling hills of the Republican river valley, into the green square fields of corn that people think of as Nebraska, ending up in a city that feels as far from home as the east coast.

You drive amid a convoy of school vans from near and far, all decorated with names and words of encouragement: “Take State” “Go for the Gold” “Run Fast!” The races are held in a bowl stadium filled with thousands of fans. It’s a very long way from the windy tracks behind schools, with cheering teammates as the only fans, that we’ve run on all season. The fanfare unnerves the runners. It unnerves me, who lived in New York City for a decade.

On Friday morning at State, I awoke to a text message from Brett saying that his legs were stiff. He ran a shake-out run 4 hours before his first race. It didn’t work: he ran a leg-heavy 2:04 anchor leg in the 4X800 that evening, and I worried that I’d broken him – peaked him too early, tapered too much or forgotten something important. I didn’t sleep well that night.

Saturday morning, the open 800m was the first event. The wind was gusting from the south, the open side of the stadium, into the runners’ faces on the homestretch. Brett arrived at the track with his head up (better than yesterday), but not talking to anyone. A year, indeed four whole years of work, was coming down to less than two minutes. I played catch with my son and tried not to worry. The gun was a relief.

He came around the backside of the first lap in the middle of the pack, looking relaxed and strong. Heading into the second lap, he was poised at the back of the lead pack, moving to the outside to pass. On the backstretch he passed three or four runners, and hit the final 200 in fourth place. Down the final stretch he went by two more runners. Still moving well, he didn’t seem to have the final sprinting gear that he is famous for. It became clear that first place — the same guy who won last year, the same one who beat him at districts, who had already accepted a football scholarship at Kansas State — was out of reach. Between him and Brett was last year’s second place finisher who had run a 1:55 a year ago.

By the line, he pulled even with #2, leaned and stumbled across. A good run. A great race, nearly perfectly executed. But still. He returned to the warm up area near me and sat quietly considering the run. I called to him and he waved, then walked away.

Leaving the track, I caught the end of an announcement on the loudspeaker, “…. of Chase County. And the winner of the 800…” Second? He had placed second? Closer. Better. But not first. Not the state champion. No picture in the World Herald, no story in the hometown Imperial Republican. No legacy. The difference? 1:57.673 to 1:56.607. One second. One thousand one.

Hopefully he will have chance to run in college. Will the coach will consider that he beat a guy who had run 1:55? Will he notice that he opened the 4X400 later in the day with a lap that put them far enough ahead to hold the lead for two and half runners and finish second? Will it be clear that he never had the right conditions to run his best time this year?

For me, however, driving home, I realize that I am done. Regardless of what this runner does in the future, I am no longer part of it. He did everything we told him to do, and ran as hard as he knew how. He trusted me. Do all coaches feel this way? That if they knew more, listened more, advised better . . . that if they could have changed one little thing they might have produced the magic to put their runner over the top?

Was the quest worth it? The runner will have to decide that for himself. I hope he decides yes. I hope he doesn’t decide that the work - a year of physical and emotional effort which didn’t even lower his time - was worthless. Life is not fair, it is true. But if he wants to blame someone, let him blame me. Another coach, with more experience, more knowledge of how to tune legs that can run 400m in 50 seconds, surely could take him to the next level.

As for me, was it worth it? I’m driving across the state of Nebraska, back through the rolling hills just sprouting with this year’s corn, and I’m depressed. Not because he lost, but because it is over. Graham Greene wrote somewhere that lotteries should never been drawn, that they produce one winner and lots of losers, while before they are drawn, everyone is still a winner, still has the hope of winning. For a year I felt like I was part of a great dream — that we held the potential of a state championship in our hearts — and it made every day exciting, important and filled with drama. Was it worth it? Knowing the outcome, would I do it again? In a heartbeat.

by Matt Taylor

Spring is in the air. The high school dual meet season comes to a close. The collegiate conference meets wrap up. And the professionals run tune-up races to prepare for the US Championships. But spring is about more than conference championships and fast times. Perhaps more importantly, it’s about cleaning. It’s a time when throwing out junk takes precedence over collecting it. Unfortunately, for many of us, including the sport of running, it’s not enough - the rate at which we collect junk outpaces our ability to clear it out. As a fan, I want to see the sport mature and expand. Sure, performances are improving, but interest and popularity among the general public are still lagging behind. Running may never reach the status of the NBA or NFL, but it doesn’t have to. What running can and should do is create a solid niche with good media coverage, exciting events, and rabid fans.

So, if I were tasked with the annual spring cleaning, my helpers and I would roll up our sleeves and start throwing out the junk, beginning with appearance money, contract confidentiality, and ineffective race commentators. Let’s get to work.

High appearance fees are holding back the sport. It’s hard to imagine that paying elite runners hundreds of thousands of dollars can be bad for the sport, but it is. Let me explain through an example. Simon is a casual sports fan. He likes watching track & field during the Olympics, but that’s the only time he really sees it on the tube or reads about it in the paper. It’s a Sunday afternoon and he’s sitting on the couch channel surfing. He comes across a fishing tournament on ESPN2 just as the winner reels in his final fish – a 12-pound bass. The announcers are going nuts, “That should do it, Jimmy. That fish just earned him $750,000.” Simon does a double take. Really? That guy just won $750,000 for fishing?

He continues to flip through the channels, this time stopping at BBC Sport. The London Marathon is on and Martin Lel is sprinting for the finish line. The announcer says, “Lel is gonna do it. He’ll take home the $55,000 first place prize.” Wow, that poor sap, Simon thinks. All that hard work and he only wins $55,000. Simon flips back to ESPN2 and Butch Jones is up on stage in front of screaming fans and loud music. He’s pulling bass after bass out of a cooler. After the last fish, he pulls out a cold Budweiser and the crowd erupts. Simon can’t help but smile.

In that instant, the sport of running lost credibility in the eyes of a casual fan. Compared to bass fishing, Simon must think running is small time. But the truth is that Martin Lel and the other elite athletes took home a lot more than the published place earnings. In fact, it’s rumored that London organizers gave out $2 million in appearance money, plus quite a bit in time bonuses. But to the casual fan, runners are killing themselves for mere peanuts compared to other professional athletes.

High appearance fees and small prize purses hurt the sport of running. People would take the sport more seriously if they knew that Paula Radcliffe earned over $1 million when she won the 2003 London Marathon. Instead, they think she only took home $50,000 (the first place prize that year). In the eye of public perception, that’s a big difference. More people would tune in to the sport if they knew that $500,000, not $50,000, was on the line. Do you think people would tune in to Survivor if the last person standing only won $40,000? Probably not. For better or worse, big money attracts attention. (more…)

by Steve Magness

Running seems to come naturally, so why should we worry about our technique or form? Ask many coaches and they will tell you that distance runners should not worry about how they run. On the other hand there are books on running technique popping up everywhere. So what is the truth?

The truth can be found by studying the best distance runners in the world. If you look at frame by frame shots of world class runners, 95% of them run correctly. Distance runners neglect working on their form it is difficult to change the way one runs. Recently, I sat down with two highly successful coaches and spent four nights watching 800m and 1500m Olympic or championship races. The similarities between almost all of the top runners were astounding.

Knowing how to run is the most difficult part. In the discussion below I will stick with what can be seen through analyzing elite runners and biomechanical knowledge. The following is based on the ideas of world renowned biomechanics expert and sprint coach Tom Tellez and I am much indebted for the information he provided.

The Drive Phase

The running stride can be divided into two phases, the recovery phase, and the support/drive phase. The drive phase causes the propulsion needed to get you moving and starts with when foot contact is made. Once foot contact is made you allow the foot to load up and extend the hip downwards and slightly back to create the force. The extension of the hip is where your power comes from. It is helpful to think of it as a crank device which you crank from the hip.

When coming off the ground you are trying to optimize the vertical and horizontal components of the stride. With too much horizontal movement you will flatten out and not come off the ground, thus losing air time and stride length. Too much vertical movement will leave you high up in the air for too long and you’ll bounce along with a very short stride length. Thus, it is important to optimize the angle and extend your hip so that you have a slight bounce in your stride. A good cue for this is to look at the horizon. If it stays flat, you are too horizontal. If it bounces a lot, you are too vertical. An analogy is to think back to your high school physics class and remember how to get the greatest distance when firing a cannon ball. The angle has to be optimized.

When the hip is extended correctly it will result in the working of a stretch/reflex mechanism. This is best thought of as a sling shot where you stretch it back and then let it go and it will shoot back to its original position. When you extend the hip you are putting it in a stretch position. Once the hip has extended, it is important not to try to do anything unnatural with your feet or toes. A common mistake is to try to push off at the end of this phase with your toes. This will likely result in too much horizontal momentum.

The Recovery Phase

With this mechanism, the recovery cycle of the leg will happen automatically. The lower leg will lift off the ground and fold so that it comes close to your buttocks (how close depends on the speed you are running) then pass under your hips with the knee leading. Once the knee has led through the lower leg will unfold and should touch down right underneath you.

Trying to actively move the leg through the recovery phase is a common mistake and will only result in more wasted energy. The leg won’t cycle through as quickly as it would if you allowed the stretch/reflex mechanism to work. A common mistake is to try to lift the knee at the end of the recovery cycle. The knee will lift enough if you stretch the hip sufficiently.

The knee should be allowed to cycle through and lift, but it should not be forced. That cycle through of the knee is a result of the stretch reflex. The best example of this can be seen in assisted walking experiments with spinal cord injury patients. Since the spinal cord has been damaged, these people do not have use of their lower body. However, if they are put on a treadmill and someone actively pushes their leg back, extending the hip to initiate the stretch/reflex, the injured patient’s leg will cycle through the recovery part of walking without assistance! In addition it has been shown that the recovery phase of running constitutes less than 15% of the total energy used during running, further supporting the idea that most of the work is automatic because of the stretch/reflex. Trying to actively lift the knee or pull the leg through is a waste of time and energy. (more…)