50/50 (26 page)
There is no single correct way to run. There are, however, certain characteristics that are almost universal in the strides of faster runners and are less often seen in the strides of average runners. These characteristics include a high stride rate (relative to speed), a tendency to strike the ground on the midfoot rather than heel-first, less ground-contact time and more time floating in the air, more bend in the knee during ground contact, less twisting of the hips and spine, and a more relaxed upper body. In a word, the best runners run more efficiently than the rest of us.
Although these stride characteristics come naturally to some runners and not to others, any runner can consciously cultivate them to some degree. There is a persistent myth in running that better stride form cannot be learned. This belief is demonstrably false. Just look at me. Starting off as a ground-pounding Cro-Magnon who lumbered through the miles with my knuckles dragging, I somehow adapted to run with a midfoot landing.
Now, perhaps you’re thinking,
Why should I bother trying to run like those sinewy Olympic marathoners? There are lots of reasons I’m not as fast as those folks. Running form is only one of them.
That’s a good point. I don’t mean to suggest that trying to emulate the form of elite runners will make you an elite runner. What I am suggesting, though, is that making this effort will probably make you a stronger runner than you are today. If you have any interest whatsoever in running faster, improving your form is probably worth trying as a means toward this end. Also, and more important, improving your running form may significantly reduce your risk of developing many of the overuse injuries that are common among runners.
Drill It
Some runners find that performing technique drills helps them improve their running form. Here’s a selection of technique drills to try.
Butt Kicks
Run in place for thirty seconds with your thighs locked in a neutral position and try to kick your butt with your heel on each stride.
High Knees
Run in place for thirty seconds, lifting your knee as high as possible on each stride.
One-Legged Run
Run (hop) on one leg for twenty strides, then switch to the other leg for twenty more.
Eighty percent of runners overstride, and this is the most common technique error that causes running injuries, which causes runners’ feet to land incorrectly, heel-first, instead of on the midfoot. Why is this error so common? The short answer could be running shoes. Nobody overstrides when running barefoot, because landing heel-first without any cushioning between your foot and the ground would hurt your heel. But as soon as we lace up our shoes, four out of five runners unconsciously switch to a heel-striking stride pattern.
Correcting this problem is simply a matter of shortening your stride. Instead of extending your leg ahead of your body and landing heel-first with your foot well in front of your hips, consciously drop your foot to the ground directly underneath your hips. Leaning slightly forward, not at the waist but from the ankles, might help you make this adjustment more easily. At first, it will probably feel strange. Keep at it and soon enough your new stride will be second nature.
No matter how good your stride is, fatigue will change it for the worse. As fatigue sets in during a run, your stride begins to deteriorate. Initially, the changes are subtle, but as you draw near to the point of complete exhaustion, your loss of running form becomes quite obvious. The unraveling of the stride due to fatigue causes a loss of efficiency that hinders performance, and it also increases injury risk since it involves a loss of stability in the joints. So it’s important that you try to hold your form together as well as possible when fatigued.
Highly trained runners are better able to maintain their form despite fatigue than their less well-trained counterparts. Simply being in better physical condition is helpful, though you can also make a conscious effort to resist stride deterioration. When I run, I consciously involve as much muscle tissue as possible in the stride action. I actively push off my toes to increase the involvement of my calf muscles, and I swing my arms a little harder than necessary to get my upper body in on the act. By relying on more muscle groups, I distribute the effort more broadly, and as a result it takes longer for individual muscles to fatigue. Experiment with doing the same thing when you run and see how it works for you.
Another method I use to prevent fatigue is to periodically alter my stride during long runs. I might begin with a neutral, upright torso posture; later switch to a slight forward lean; and still later, switch to a slight backward lean. These small changes in running style serve to distribute the stress of the effort more evenly throughout the body, which enables the hardest-working muscles to last a little longer before they reach exhaustion.
Fiddle with your stride during training runs to find efficiencies and learn ways to shift the load off certain areas by recruiting other muscles to do some of the work. Determine your ideal form by really tuning in to your body and paying attention to the ways you compensate for fatigue, both good and bad. Instead of treating your body like a temple, treat each component of your running system—quads, calves, forearms, abs, et cetera—like a valued team member, with its own unique strengths and weaknesses. Focus on making the total package greater than the sum of its parts. May you live long, and run longer!
The Power of Visualization
Athletes in many sports use a technique called visualization, or mental rehearsal, to improve their technique. As a runner, you can do it too. All you have to do is sit or lie still with your eyes closed and spend ten minutes imagining yourself running smoothly, efficiently, and powerfully. The more vivid and realistic you can make these images, the more effective they will be. When you visualize yourself running, you activate the same parts of the brain’s motor centers that become active when you actually run. But the advantage of mental rehearsal is that you can change these brain patterns for the better by seeing yourself running more efficiently and powerfully than you really do. Then your goal becomes turning visualization into reality.
After crossing the finish line, we were greeted by the mayor of Green Bay, Jim Schmitt, who presented Nicholas with an enormous Green Bay Packers birthday cake. Then he proceeded to give Nicholas the most remarkable birthday gift ever: a football signed by the Green Bay Packers team. Nicholas was speechless. Watching him on stage with Mayor Schmitt was like witnessing a fairy tale unfold. In the heart of a nine-year-old boy, it was the best birthday he could have ever asked for.
Nicholas is a generous soul, and after blowing out the candles, he offered cake to all the runners.
“You must be very proud of him,” said a voice behind me.
I turned to find my good friend and fellow ultramarathoner Roy Pirrung, who had just completed the marathon with me. I smiled at him in agreement.
“When I was his age,” Roy went on, “other kids used to make fun of me because I was so fat.”
I looked at Roy in shock. He was the absolute picture of fitness and health. A multiple Ironman finisher and ultrarunning masters world champion, the man was capable of running 150 miles in twenty-four hours. Apparently he hadn’t always been this way. An obese child, Roy reached a point where he could hardly run around the block, let alone run nine miles without stopping. When his five-foot-six frame hit two hundred pounds, he said enough was enough.
Roy taught himself to eat better and to exercise. Gradually, his endurance improved and the pounds began to disappear. His stride is extremely efficient. I should know: I’ve spent many miles behind him. Apparently, however, even this needed improvement. Over the years, Roy taught himself how to run with greater economy.
“My stride is not natural,” he told me. “I was a heavy heel–toe striker and adapted to become a midfoot striker.” It took him five years to learn to become a more efficient strider.
Nicholas came bounding over. “Check this out!” he said, showing us the autographed football.
Roy grabbed it. “Go long!”
Nicholas bolted across the empty lot.
“Pirrung,” I shouted, “that’s a commemorative ball!”
It was too late. The ball went sailing over Nicholas’s head as he dashed to try to catch it. I watched in horror as the meticulously autographed football skidded along the pavement. Nicholas just wasn’t quite quick enough to reach it in time.
“Oh well,” Roy ribbed. “At least he’s got quick foot turnover and a good stride.”
Getting Back Up
Day 39
October 25, 2006
Tecumseh Trail Marathon
Bloomington, Indiana
Elevation: 591'
Weather: 44 degrees; partly cloudy
Time: 4:45:21
Net calories burned: 124,293
Number of runners: 55
R
unning is not a contact sport
—at least, not usually. But every once in a while, a rare, freakish moment of bruising or bloodshed occurs, usually quite suddenly, like when you slip and fall on a patch of ice. Runners have a high tolerance for pain, but we prefer the slow-burning pain of creeping fatigue to the hard-hitting pain of sudden impact. If we had any taste for the latter, we would have taken up rugby or karate.
The Endurance 50 was largely free of such freakish moments of brutality—until I ran the Tecumseh Trail Marathon outside Bloomington, Indiana, when it suddenly became a full-contact affair.
The run started in a thickly wooded wilderness, off a desolate roadway. When my crew and I arrived there, we encountered fifty-five exuberant runners raring to go, fourteen of whom had never run a marathon before. Other than a couple of participants who had run here before, I’m not sure many of us had any idea what we were in for.
Watch Where You’re Going
It’s tempting to look off in the distance and enjoy the scenery when running on wilderness trails, though it’s not always safe. When the path is narrow and the footing uncertain, keep your eyes on the trail. Look ahead about ten feet and find a line—the route where you’re going to step for the next four to six strides. With practice, you will become more confident and more comfortable in choosing the right place to put your foot down. Rock surfaces can be slippery, as can tree logs. Scan for flat patches of earth to plant your foot on, and slow down when you can’t actually see the surface of the trail—such as when it’s covered with leaves. You never know what might be lurking underneath.
The course almost immediately hit a technical singletrack trail, with numerous stream crossings, hordes of logs and branches to climb over and navigate around, deep pockets of mud, slippery rocks, and gnarled tree roots hiding silently under thick canopies of fallen leaves. Within a mile, I had an inkling that this was going to be an interesting and different sort of day. My expectations were fulfilled.
The switchbacks were difficult to follow, but to look up for a trail marker was to risk tripping over an unseen obstacle and performing an inglorious face plant. I did precisely that on a harrowing descent less than two miles into the marathon, catching my toe on a hidden root and somersaulting forward. I stood up with nicks and scratches on my arms and thighs. My pride remained intact, however, as most of the other runners were falling all around me as well.
The primary effect of my fall was to increase my fear of falling again, which caused me to run with extra tension in my muscles in a continuous state of bracing for another tumble. My level of concentration also increased. I focused my vision intensely on the trail ahead, trying to pick the safest line and spot camouflaged obstacles. Not only were these efforts physically and mentally exhausting, but they were also ineffective. I fell at least a dozen times. So I forced myself to slow down. I had hoped to run each of the fifty marathons in fewer than five hours, but I began to think I would have to make an exception today given the difficult terrain and the thirty-five hundred feet of vertical ascent and thirty-eight hundred feet of vertical descent along the Tecumseh Trail Marathon course. (By comparison, the infamous Heartbreak Hill along the Boston Marathon course rises eighty vertical feet.)
To make matters worse, the group I was running with got a little lost on a number of occasions. To make up time, we pushed hard on the flat sections and along areas in the trail that were clear of debris. When we crossed the finish line at last, in a time of 4:45:21, my GPS watch indicated that we’d run 27.5 miles.
Throughout the Endurance 50, there was a running joke among the crew about the number of reporters and media personalities who asked us how far our marathon was today. Each time it happened, we hid our exasperation and patiently explained that every marathon was the same distance: 26.2 miles. After asking me this very question and receiving my rote explanation, one radio DJ (who obviously wasn’t listening very well) asked whether today’s marathon would be my longest.
“Yes,” I told him, “today will be the longest 26.2-mile marathon I’ve ever run. I tried to get the organizers of the Endurance 50 to choose the short marathons,” I goaded, “but they all seem to be the same distance.”
On Day 39, it was this disc jockey who got the last laugh. That was the longest 26.2-mile marathon I’d ever run.
Day 40
October 26, 2006
Otter Creek Marathon
Otter Creek, Kentucky
Elevation: 568'
Weather: 52 degrees; light drizzle
Time: 4:16:48
Net calories burned: 127,480
Number of runners: 45
Despite some lingering trauma, I felt increasingly upbeat during the drive from Indiana to Kentucky as I began to appreciate the fact that I had survived the brutal Tecumseh Trail Marathon and the worst was certainly behind me. It was nothing more than wishful thinking.
