Still Running (weakly). Issue 104

PAST – inspiration – 50 years ago today (29th May 1975) Steve Prefontaine raced for the last time, beating Olympic marathon champion, Frank Shorter, in a near US record 5000.  In the early hours of the next morning, he was killed in a car accident at the age of 24.

He is perhaps the most revered American distance runner of all time.  Why?  After all, he wasn’t that successful – some US records and a fourth place in the Olympics (1972 5,000 metres).  But there was something about Pre, something magical, mystical, mythical even, that communicated itself to fans, to the public, even across the Atlantic to a fledgling teenage runner in Croydon.

He would always run from the front and try to burn the others off; any picture of him running shows his eyes narrowed in intense, zen-like concentration and effort; they said that, when he stepped on his home track in Eugene, Oregon, the sun would invariably come out; he lived in a caravan at the foot of a mountain; he rebelled against the archaic amateur rules of the time; he looked like a pop star; he was a pop star to US track fans – they shouted, “Go Pre,” through his every race; and of course the legend died young.

I only saw him race once – ironically, in the one race he didn’t finish (stomach muscle pull) – the Coca Cola 2 miles at Crystal Palace in 1974, where Brendan Foster deployed his trademark mid-race burst to gain a winning lead.  But Pre was my first running hero, and I remember him still.

PRESENT – perspiration – I dislike being negative about any runner, but William Goodge, model and influencer, has driven me to it.  After apparently running from John O’ Groats to Land’s End in 2019 (no records), and across the US in 2023 (“fastest Englishman”), he is now claiming the record for running across Australia in 35 days (previous record 39.)

Nowadays, these records are comparatively straightforward to prove.  All you have to do is to wear a tracker and share your data.  The trouble is that Goodge has repeatedly refused to wear a tracker, and the odd bits of data that he has shared show him displaying world-class speed, but only sporadically.  Oftentimes the rise and fall of his heartrate does not correlate with that of his speed.  When he is observed, he shuffles along at a mortal’s pace; when he is not observed, he morphs into Kouros-Jornet-Sorokin.  There is video evidence of him coming into camp, collapsing, taking off his tracker-watch and one of his crew jogging off with it.  In organised races, where you can’t cheat, he has a poor record.

Every ultradistance expert whose view I respect does not believe his latest claim.  His 150,000 followers do, of course.  But I certainly do not.

Who cares?  Well, I care that someone’s record has been taken illegitimately.  I care that he has in fact put the lives of those who come after him at risk – as they would have to run suicidally fast to try and beat his record.  And I care that he makes money out of the sport that I love – by cheating.

FUTURE – suggestion – You can prepare yourself to be unprepared.  What do I mean?  Sometimes, things happen.  You’re late to a race.  You haven’t got time to warmup.  You’ve forgotten a vital piece of kit.

Then…….. It’s all about your mindset.

If you let the problem get to you, it will derail your entire race.  Or you could just choose to make the best of it.  Be prepared to be unprepared.

I have run races in my least suitable trainers because I forgot my racing ones.  I know of one ultrarunner who ran 40 miles in his work shoes because he’d forgotten his Nikes.  No socks – no real problem.  Watch dead?  Just run hard.

If there’s no time to warmup, OK, maybe take the first mile a little easier than normal.

Driving to a race, I always calculate when I’ve reached the ‘safe zone’ – where, if the car broke down now, I could still jog to the start on time.  In my earlier non-driving days, running late, I remember getting changed on the upper deck of a bus to save time.  Mind you, the little old lady sitting next to me wasn’t too chuffed about holding my jockstrap!

A determination to make the best of it is all you need.