Category: Running

My Top 5 Books About Runners

Marathon Man, Bill Rodgers & Matthew Shepatin

Bill Rodgers was an unlikely sporting hero. His reputation as a flighty drifter stands in contrast to his intensely competitive racing personality. As we learn more about the man, we can understand this contrast and see how Rodgers progressed to the peak of the marathoning world.

I found his mile-by-mile account of the 1975 Boston Marathon—Rodgers’ breakout race and the first of his four Boston victories—to be worth the price of the book.

Marathon Man is full of motivation for amateur runners, and I highly recommend it.

In Search of Al Howie, Jared Beasley

Al Howie was an enigma. He was a troubled loner, who thought nothing of running thousands of kilometres just to compete in a race, only to turn around and run home. His 1991 record for the fastest run across Canada (72 days) stood for decades until it was broken in 2022 by local legend, Dave Proctor.

While Beasley’s book sheds some light on what drove Howie, we are in many ways left to come to our own conclusions about the man. And that’s fine.

I found the book helped me to sort out what running really means to me, and that’s why I recommend you read In Search of Al Howie for yourself.

The Perfect Mile, Neal Bascomb

All of us who enjoy running owe a debt to the three talented men who chased the four-minute mile in the early 1950s. Roger Bannister, a Brit, finally broke the barrier in 1954. And like us, he was a pure amateur. He juggled athletics training with medical studies and did groundbreaking research into the science behind aerobic exercise.

In my opinion, he paved the way for us to enjoy the sport as we do today.

What you may not know is that there was worldwide interest in the rivalry between Bannister, the Australian John Landy, and the American Wes Santee. Bascomb’s superb book, The Perfect Mile, brings this important piece of running history to life. Highly recommended!

Born to Run, Chris McDougall

This book caused quite a stir when it came out in 2010. It uncovered a whole new world of distance running, in the remote part of Mexico that is home to the fascinating Tarahumara people. Reading about their unbelievable feats of endurance left me in awe.

I was also intrigued by the mysterious American loner, Caballo Blanco, who lived and ran in the same mountain region.

The author’s own experience in a fifty-mile trail race leads him to investigate why human physiology makes us ideally suited to distance running.

These threads are woven together to make Born to Run a memorable read. See if you agree.

Duel in the Sun, John Brant

This is the story of one of the great rivalries in distance running, and possibly the most exciting Boston Marathon finish of all time.

The clash between Alberto Salazar and Dick Beardsley in 1982 has all the elements of a thriller: the brash young star and the workmanlike veteran, battling each other to the finish on a scorching day in Boston. Neither runner was ever the same again.

Their compelling personal stories are told in real-time as they run from Hopkinton to Boylston Street. Duel in the Sun is a must-read for anyone who has run that famous stretch of road. Or aspires to.  

Running and Thermodynamics

In his book, “Running with the Pack”, philosopher Mark Rowlands makes some interesting observations about evolution. His essay, “The Serpent of Eden” starts by explaining the first and second laws of thermodynamics. While this immediately caught my attention as a chemical engineer, it may not resonate with everyone.

Basically, the preposition of the first law is that energy can neither be created nor destroyed; it can only be converted from one form into another. The second law states that any closed system (like the universe, or like us as entities within it) tends towards maximum disorder.

So, what does this have to do with running?

Well, Rowlands makes a rather neat argument that can be paraphrased as follows: because we evolved as creatures in a world where our stores of energy rely on us converting it from another source, there is a predisposition for us, as conscious beings, to focus on the competitive forces that allow us to continue living. Human beings are highly complex, closed systems, and for us to survive (that is, to avoid maximum disorder) we must compete for energy. And to do that, we must get it from another source.

Said another way, we tend to focus on those things that affect our ability to continue the competition… to stay alive. This is nothing more than the natural result of our evolutionary makeup. (Of course, the end game is predetermined, but let’s put that aside for a minute.)

Think about this. When you are running, and things are going especially well, what do you notice? Are you conscious of your heart and lungs and legs all doing their job efficiently, just as they were designed to do? No, of course not. They just get on with their job, and you enjoy the intrinsic benefits without even thinking about it.

Instead, what we tend to notice, as conscious, competitive beings, are the things that aren’t going so well. That niggling pain in your knee, or the stitch in your side, or any number of other ailments is what gets your attention. You do notice these things because, as Rowlands suggests, our brains have evolved to notice when things aren’t going well.

Rowlands gives further depth to his argument, with reference to the work of the great philosopher, Schopenhauer. And frankly, some of his observations are a bit depressing. Schopenhauer observes that because we are so highly evolved, with cognitive abilities like memory and anticipation, abilities that other creatures don’t possess, we are especially sensitive to our place in the grand thermodynamic scheme of things.

If the universe is destined to end up with maximum disorder, we might rightly ask ourselves why we bother. After all, what’s the point if we will all end up as worm food?

That’s where the Rowlands piece shines. He points out that as human beings, we have evolved as social creatures precisely because that improves our odds in the unrelenting competition for energy. The bonds that keep us together… mutual recognition, affection, love… can be seen as small bits of defiance against overwhelming odds, in a universe where the rules of the game are stacked firmly against us.

My advice is that the next time you are out running, you should spare a thought for the amazing confluence of conditions that had to go well for you to even be out there at all. The very fact that you exist is in defiance of the laws of thermodynamics, at least for the time being.

And the next time you are out running with your gang, give some consideration to them, as what Schopenhauer referred to as, “my fellow sufferers”. Since we are all in this together, it is only right that we should have some tolerance and patience with each other. As Rowlands says, “Every act of kindness we show to someone or something is a defiance of the spirit of the laws that made us”. Defiance may be futile, but it is still valuable.

Four Ways Running Has Changed

  1. Technology

These days, most runners take for granted that they will have a permanent record of every kilometre they run. Some obsess over it. But the availability of all this information and more is a relatively recent phenomenon. For much of my time in the sport, that is to say, the last half-century, there was almost no information available on pace or distance, let alone heart rate, recovery time or anything else.

I used to check the time on the kitchen clock before I left my house for a run, so I could have some idea of how long I had been running when I got back. Pace? Forget about it. That started to change when GPS watches came into the market. Of course, they are now ubiquitous.

I still think of my Timex Ironman watch as something special. This reminds me, there is something liberating about setting off for a run with no watch of any kind. Try it sometime.

2. Gear

As I plodded through fresh, wet snow on a 16k run yesterday, I thought about how fortunate we are to have tights, high-tech base layers, and Gore-Tex jackets to get us through the worst of our Canadian winter weather. We finished with slightly wet feet, but otherwise we were warm and comfortable. And in the summer, breathable fabrics magically shed water to keep us dry.

Am I the only one that remembers Adidas tracksuits from the 1970s? You know, the gymnast-style pants with the loops that went under your foot? They were made of some strange synthetic fibre whose only attribute was to guarantee to chafe. Or how about cotton T-shirts and sweatpants, which held water like a sponge? Then there were the cringeworthy Dolfin running shorts from the early 1980s. Richard Simmons had nothing on me. Some things are best forgotten – forever.

3. Races

This is probably the category where I’ve seen the biggest changes. Some are good and some are not. I’m thrilled to see so many more races on the calendar than we ever had in the early days. Not only that, races are almost always well-organized now, with proper timing and accurate course measurement. Gone are the days of haphazard planning and poor execution by well-meaning but inexperienced race directors.

But I have to say, there are downsides. I object to shelling out $75 for a race that is, frankly, a pretty minor event. I don’t need a technical T-shirt and a finisher’s medal from each race I run. Sometimes, I’m just there for a quicker pace run, or to get a bit of competition. I’d much rather have the choice of whether to buy the shirt, and I really could do without the medal. Maybe that sentiment underlies the growing Parkrun trend, where runners can show up and run/race, without all the trappings.

4. Participation

For years, the only participants in road races were gaunt, sinewy veterans of the circuit. Even the big races were sparsely attended, and the runners who did show up were all of a certain demographic. Many races went through an existential crisis in the late 1970s, when it became clear that small fields of young adult males didn’t bode particularly well for the future of the sport.

It was the salvation of the sport that running became mainstream starting in the 1980s and 1990s. Frank Shorter is often given credit for enticing a whole generation of new runners to put on a pair of newfangled Nike Waffle Trainers and give it a try. (I think there was more to it, but that’s fine.) Whatever the reason, we should all be thankful, because we are now enjoying the benefits. The starting grid for just about any road race is a healthy cross-section of society, including people of all ages. We’re all better off for it.

On Racing and Recovering

Yesterday’s long run turned into a bit of a slog. Deb woke up with a pinched nerve in her neck, and I was feeling, well, crappy. Fatigued. Lethargic. We started with a walk, thinking that might be enough. Once we were warmed up, we slowly added some pace, but our run ended up being well short of what we planned to do, both in distance and pace. It was one of those runs best forgotten.

There may be more to the story than bad luck. You see, Sunday was two weeks on from a half-marathon that we ran in Vancouver. (Incidentally, it was the fantastic and well-organized First Half Half. Highly recommended!)

Although two weeks should be an adequate recovery period for a half, it got me thinking about how much downtime is enough after a race. I’ve always subscribed to an easy-to-remember formula that I learned years ago. It goes like this: treat yourself to one easy day for each mile you race.

Spelling it out, for a 10k race that means (more or less) a week of easy running; for a half marathon, two weeks; and for a marathon, a month.

There is a tendency to want to shorten these recovery periods. After all, if we had a positive race experience, why wouldn’t we want to get back in the saddle as soon as possible?

For me, that has usually not been an option. Inevitably, racing has taken more out of me than I’m willing to admit. Even after the immediate post-race soreness had cleared, the residual fatigue was too much to overcome in a few days. My effort in interval workouts or long runs during the recovery period, if I could do them at all, had to be scaled back significantly.

Add in the effects of aging, and whatever issues come along with it, and the rule-of-thumb recovery periods should get even longer. It makes sense that we aren’t as quick to bounce back as we used to be.

So, whether or not our recent experience was tied to an inadequate recovery or just bad luck, it’s worth remembering that a race puts major stress on our bodies. In summary, we should always respect the need for a full recovery.

A Special Race

For the second consecutive year, Debbie and I were in beautiful Vancouver, to run in the “First Half” Half Marathon (sponsored by RunVan). It was a special weekend. For me, just to compete in the race felt like an achievement. To run with Deb made it even sweeter. We met our goals for the race, after a long winter of training in Calgary. Several of our teammates and training partners were there with us. Even better was to spend the weekend with our son Matt.

Race Day, 2023

As satisfying as the race was for us, it was also a bittersweet weekend. You can read my race report from the 2022 race to find out why. I’ve reproduced it below. You will see why the First Half is a race that has special memories for me.

2022 First Half Race Report

We each have races that hold special meaning. The First Half Half Marathon in Vancouver is one such race for me. In 2011, it was the first race I ran as a new member of my club, Adrenaline Rush. That winter was harsh, even by Alberta standards, but my teammates and I survived some truly epic long runs on the path to race day.

The First Half is hugely popular. It regularly sells out in a day, so I felt lucky to secure an entry in 2013. In 2016, in a steady rain, I put together a solid performance and finished third in my age group. It was one of my best race results ever. My fondness for the race grew.

In 2017, things went from strange to scary. My wife Debbie and I travelled to Vancouver on Valentine’s Day weekend, only to have a freak snowstorm shut the city down. The race was cancelled. Then in July, my life was turned upside down by a series of strokes. Running at all became an open question. It looked unlikely that I would ever run in the First Half again.

But life has continued. And even better, it includes running. My return to the sport has been cautious. It now includes the pleasant option of running often with Debbie. I have started doing solo runs. And in addition to watching my teammates from the sidelines as an assistant coach, I now benefit from our interval training sessions.

Debbie, too, has ramped up her training. The idea of running the 2022 First Half was mostly hers, and while I wasn’t opposed to it, I wasn’t sure I would even make it to the start line. Knowing her as well as I do, I had no doubt she would put in the necessary hard work.

Our confidence grew through another tough winter as our long runs stretched out. We got to that inevitable point where we couldn’t wait for the taper. The weather outlook was for perfect racing conditions.

Finally, race day arrived. My phone rang as we got ready. Our sister-in-law, who had been bravely battling cancer, had passed away a few hours earlier. We knew this day was coming, but it was still hard to hear the news. As we had already put on our race kit, and knowing that Shelley was a great supporter of my brother’s running, we knew we had to carry on.

We got through the unusual rolling start and settled into our target pace. Through 17k, when my watch blacked out, this was a case study in good race execution. We handled the many distractions with ease: turns, fuelling, and traffic. Deb was in great form and running well. I was feeling good too. As always, the scenery in Stanley Park was a welcome diversion.

We felt the pull of the finish line in the last few kilometres. I could tell that both of us were in the same place mentally. I had warned Debbie about a hill in the last kilometre. She overcame it like just one more interval repeat. Our cruise into the finish felt smooth and effortless.

It was amazing to be in Vancouver again for an actual race. Our performance leaves me optimistic about the season ahead. I’m proud of Debbie, who trained diligently and delivered perfectly on her race plan. And me? I was happy just to have another chance at this race that I enjoy so much. Even though I ran with very different goals this time, I can report that the satisfaction is the same. Finally, on a sad day, we had another reason to experience this unique event, buoyed by memories of our late sister-in-law.