Author: Admin

CHAPTER XXV

AGE  AND   THE  MARATHON

 HOW old ought a fellow to be before he goes in for the marathon ? Well, you have two different opinions to choose from (a) that of those who haven’t done much good at it, and (b) the others who have. The former, and of course they’re in the majority, tell you that men should not seriously tackle the race before they are around 26-28, in fact they seem to think that it is an ” old man’s event ” ; the others, that there is no reason why anyone between twenty and forty should not indulge. I agree with the latter, though I would extend the useful limit to fifty—Webster, the Canadian, was well past the forty mark when he won the event in the Empire Games.

We seem to have been brought up with an impression that this long-distance race is too strenuous for any but specially favoured individuals. Indeed the man in the street is so frightened of it that constant medical supervision is regarded as essential for any

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who take to it, and you won’t be allowed to enter one of these events unless you comply. As a matter of fact the better-trained you are for this kind of work the less likelihood there is of your sustaining injury from it at any time. But as doctors haven’t personally had much—if any—experience of running by the hour you can’t blame them if they keep to what they consider to be the safe side. Did they but know it the ” safe ” side has nothing to do with distance ; it is solely a matter of speed.

Did you ever hear of the American Transcontinental Footraces ? They started at one coast and ended at the other. Many competitors were youngsters of around twenty—the winner of the 1928 event was exactly that age, while one runner was no more than sixteen—but not one of them was the worse for his three thousand miles in seventy-nine days. In collaboration with the doctor who travelled with the contestants, the American medical fraternity satisfied themselves on this point immediately after the conclusion of the first race. The bulk of men were between twenty-four and forty-five, and of the fifty-five who finished, all ages from sixteen to forty-nine were represented. If that doesn’t prove that distance running is not dependent, within certain limits of course, on age, I don’t know what does. And remember these men averaged daily a much greater mileage than the orthodox marathon. Those of them who indulged in speeding dropped out in the first week ; the rest travelled leisurely at a dead easy pace, the leaders doing about 6½ miles per hour.

So it doesn’t seem to matter a rap what your age is provided you’re between twenty and forty; the younger you happen to be the sooner you can get into decent trim. But your mind is not so experienced in the early twenties, and at that time the work may appear to be too gruelling altogether to make it worthwhile. So long as you’re just about fully grown, as the great majority are at twenty, there is nothing to stop you from becoming first-class at the marathon or any other event you happen to be reasonably fitted for.

Aren’t we just as much animals as horses and dogs, albeit certainly brainier ones ? Any well-grown animal can keep pace with the rest of its kind within reason, and if we are trained for it there’s hardly a man who couldn’t become a decent marathoner. Donkey’s years ago when our forebears were savages every individual must have been a first-class distance merchant as well as a decent sprinter. Convenience has made us drop prolonged travelling afoot but games have kept a certain amount of sprinting going, with the result that the training for distance must now be more arduous than it is for shorter events.

Where 99 per cent, of younger men go wrong in their training for long races is in speed. They ignore the fact that they’ve already got much more of this than they’re ever likely to require for the purpose ; what they haven’t got is the ability to keep going for the length of time, and of course it’s that that wants developing. Did they but realise it they could afford to ignore speed and train solely for distance ; if they feel they must let out occasionally the last half-mile of the daily run is the time to do it.

Your system will get accustomed to almost anything if you practise often enough. There’s nothing fearsome about walking because you do some every day, perhaps several times a day. The same can be said in a way about marathon running if you follow similar methods, i.e. take a long run practically every day.

Fellows fail to make really good at it only because they fail altogether to fit in the necessary preparation. The prospect of fifteen miles a day for six days in the week would stagger most of the youngsters yet that is far from being too much. Twenty miles would be better. Certainly it can be done. Ballington, the South African, used to average a lot over a hundred miles a week—he was then in his early twenties—and there wasn’t a marathon man in England at the time (1936) who could be sure of beating him in spite of the fact that he did not specialise at the distance but merely took it on as a sideline. Ballington’s forte was fifty-milers.

So if you intend to make any sort of show at the marathon you’ve got to make up your mind right away that the first thing to do is to get busy with real work ; not too heavy to start with perhaps, but gradually increasing as you feel you can manage it until, after a lapse of about eighteen months, you are covering something in the region of a hundred miles per week or a bit more. If you need an incentive remember that there are certainly men who will extend their mileage to that figure and if you are determined to give them a good run you’ll have to knuckle down to it yourself.

CHAPTER XXIV

MARATHON  MERCHANTS

OF all our standard events probably the marathon is least under-stood. You can point to the reason without much difficulty ; its inclusion in modern sports came so much later than any other distances. As a matter of fact prior to the 1914-18 war twenty-six miles was actually considered suitable only for those who had been especially favoured by Nature with more than the usual toughness and stamina, a mistaken opinion due solely to lack of knowledge.

There’s another reason too, and an equally potent one, which will go far to explain our ignorance about it.     Have you ever realised that its technique has been taught and explained by men who never at any time contemplated running such a distance themselves ?    These are the only teachers we’ve had ;   men entirely without experience of the game beyond having seen others engaged in it.    Nearly every book on training that we’ve got today has been written by authors of this type.    Mind you, I’m not trying to belittle their work or to blame them ;   far from it.    They gave us the best they knew and that’s all anyone can do.    The only pity is that they weren’t in a position to know more.    It just shows how dreadfully behind-hand we are with this form of athletics. The only possible explanation is that this department of running has blossomed out so recently that in spite of its popularity it hasn’t had time to produce the number of technical exponents common to shorter distances.    In this respect, therefore, marathon men are at a disadvantage compared with all other runners.

Have you ever considered why distance running should have faded out so much more than sprinting ? There can be no doubt that a few thousand years ago all men, and to a slightly less degree all women too, were equally efficient at both, just as both sexes of the rest of the animal world still are. But as civilisation progressed and men harnessed animals, metals, and then science to aid them in their ever-widening activities, the need for personal exertion to cover long distances elapsed, and horses, trains or motors provided a quicker and more convenient method. Then, too, financial competition promoted a busier life, limiting yet further the time available for recreation.

In this way long-distance running as an everyday affair slowly but surely petered out, though sprinting was always kept going by its inclusion in various games. Yet when you come to think of it both forms of running are equally natural, and it’s only because we’ve allowed distance work to lapse that its technique is less understood.

There’s another point which will show how wide the gap has become between our knowledge of sprinting and that of marathon running. Among various records put up during the last fifty years Hutchins’ thirty seconds for 300 yards still stands, yet the

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Olympic marathon figures of 1908 and 1912 wouldn’t rank today as decent second-class performances. We couldn’t have made all that progress without having learnt a lot ; such a marked advance proves that marathon running is still in its infancy whereas sprinting, being nearer the ” adult ” stage in development, hasn’t scope for improvement on such a scale. I don’t for one moment intend to suggest that earlier Olympic marathoners were intrinsically inferior to their modern rivals ; they failed to put up better times only because they hadn’t learnt how to set about the business. Had they known as much as we do they would have gone in for far more training, possibly of a less strenuous kind in some respects and would have specialised at the one event.

No doubt methods have improved quite a lot, but marathon technique is still such unexplored territory that the times put up today, very much better as they are, will yet permit of further and considerable reduction. Only when the race is run in something like two hours twenty minutes shall we be able to say that it’s science on a par with that of the shorter distances up to the mile. Yes, they will reach the 140-minute mark or very close to it when we get men to train consistently in the most up-to-date manner.

For a start you’ve got to remember that there’s more lost ground to be made up in the marathon field than there is in any other event and this of course will need a corresponding extension in training. This point has never been mentioned in the text-books because the writers had not recognised how backward we really were. Consequently we have been spoon-fed with altogether inadequate work with regard to the necessary training ; and not only that, but much of what has been advised is futile. If there’s one thing that is absolutely definite it is that walking doesn’t teach you to run. Marathon men must learn to run long distances and walking, so far as their training for running goes, is only a waste of time and does nothing to help with the specialised event. Yet we are still taught by non-marathon runners, and of course by those who haven’t as yet spotted the weak point, that long walks, excellent in themselves apart from running, should form a definite part of the training schedule. They make a strong point of it too !

The actual training from the stage of novice to first-class ability is almost sure to take eighteen months, and you’d have to be drastically severe with exercise and relaxation to manage it in so short a time. Three years would be more reasonable. To drop training at any time during that period whether for a holiday or anything else is to throw overboard part of your hard-earned ability ; the longer the holiday the more serious your relapse. Hence you must make up your mind to get busy and stay busy for two or three years on end. There won’t be so much difficulty about it once the habit of regular exercise has been formed ; it’s the earlier stages that have always proved more troublesome.

Hurrying won’t help you and there are no short cuts—don’t kid yourself that you can fool Nature. Nothing but honest work and

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plenty of it will make you more thoroughly efficient at the game than your rivals. Ten or twelve miles twice a week, plus a somewhat longer jaunt on Saturdays, such as our books nowadays advise, is less than half the work you’ll have to get used to—less than half you CAN get quite used to. That may sound a tall order, but it’s quite time somebody put the facts down in black and white ; if they frighten you off, marathon honours are not for you. And that’s where the time factor comes in and explains why two or three years are necessary; you’ve much physical building to do and can’t afford to be slipshod about it.

You might think that if you indulged in twice as much exercise you’d go stale almost at once. So you would if you kept on with the usual speed-up taotics. But if you eliminated racing entirely for the time being you would discover that what you dropped in that sphere could be tacked on to distance, extending it to an almost unbelievable degree, and it’s distance you’re really training for, not speed. One hundred per cent, increase of exercise is no small item and you may be sure it’s going to make you tired. Even that needn’t worry you, for it’ll be little more than temporary discomfort ; a few months and you’ll have built up muscles and sinews to stand the racket without complaining, and the daily grind will have become mere normal routine.

The first thing to do, then, is to increase your outing gradually— and it should be at least five (better still, six) days a week—until you can average four hundred miles per month, by which time you will be able to realise that the few months’ training at present recommended is little more than a playful introduction to the real business.    You can look on four hundred miles as the low limit ; there are plenty of men who have done more than twice as much —I’ve run twelve hundred miles in a month myself—but most of them had more time at their disposal and were not primarily interested in the standard marathon.    I’m just telling you this to show you that there’s nothing in any way fearsome in such a figure once you’ve worked up to it, though it may sound formidable to a partly trained man.    When you’re well on the way to it,, and note the astonishing improvement gained, you will be forced to admit that a few months’ training on standard lines will never get you anywhere ;  all it can dc is to prepare you to battle your way towards much harder work.

The man who says he hasn’t time for such exercise is only telling you, though he might not admit it to himself, that he doesn’t intend to make time. Pat Dengis, the American champion, was averaging a higher monthly figure when he gathered in the All America title, yet he did not allow athletics to interfere with his daily work as a machine tool maker. Ballington, the South African, covered an even greater mileage because his methods and style were suited to distances of from fifty to one hundred miles : and he, also, trained out of business hours. It should be remembered that neither of these men were in any sense of the term ‘” born athletes ” as we understand it, and if they could manage

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four hundred miles a month or more without detriment to their work in factory or office, any other ordinary man can learn to do likewise. Anyway, if you want to do better than tho next man, you’ve got to work harder.

Here’s another point it will pay you to note. Train on the same lines as your rivals and you’ll make about the same headway ; to attain a different result—that, of outclassing them—your preparation must be different. So there’s no need to shy at the programme I’ve outlined even though it is a radical alteration from the normal course ; the mere fact that it IS so perchance provides for better results. You can learn like Pat Dengis did when he gave these new methods a thorough trial, or fail to learn through lack of initiative : the choice is always yours.

The first men to employ improved methods are the ones who usually make the greatest splash. In recent times Nurmi of Finland was perhaps the most notable example. Ballington was another—the -entire sub-continent of South Africa subscribed lavishly to send him over to England to prove his world superiority. Both worked on the lines I’ve been recommending. Had Nurmi been allowed to run at the Olympic Games at Los Angeles in 1932 he would certainly have shown an astounding improvement on the marathon record as it now stands. Ballington did as much in the hundred miles, reducing it far below what had previously been considered the possible limit—more than two and a half hours less than the track record. Then his time for forty miles on hilly roads, sur­rounded with traffic and in bad weather, was more than twenty minutes below the amateur track world record, which was equi­valent to beating that record holder by about three miles ; you can perhaps judge from that what his system was worth.

And Pat Dengis ? He was just beginning to get into his stride with exactly the same methods, having given them a trial—as he openly admitted—without having any real faith in them, but thinking they could at any rate do no harm. His first subsequent race was an outstanding success and a month or two later he had won the All America championship in better time than he had ever managed, beating the runner-up by half a mile. He then wrote to a friend saying he was convinced he was at last on the right track with training and that his former ideas were completely out-of-date. Unfortunately he lost his life shortly afterwards in an air crash.

Future marathon honours, then, are still waiting for men to give these methods an innings. After which of course the standard will be raised again, making it still more difficult to establish new records at the distance.

Let’s get now to some of the more intimate details of training ; perhaps if we tackle some of the major problems first the lesser ones won’t be so difficult. One thing you can bank on for a start is that until you’re really fit you’re not getting the pleasure and satisfaction from your training that you should ; you may be getting some of it, but most of us are greedy enough to want the lot.

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If benefit is to be had, as it most certainly is—and of course pleasure follows proportionately—discriminate with your methods and you’ll meet it halfway and keep company thereafter.

Reasonable exercise, allowing for astonishingly wide differences in stages of training, makes and keeps a man fit ; it is only when he goes to extremes in anything that there is the possibility of a relapse. I have travelled for months at a time with men who kept in super-condition when doing upwards of forty miles a day on their own feet. Needless to say a tremendous amount of training had to be undertaken before they reached that stage, the bulk of it in many cases being overcome by many during the first fifteen hundred miles of the event they were engaged in. At the other end you find fellows who keep in moderate trim with no more than an average of a daily mile or so of walking plus perhaps a game at the week-end. Not that these latter were ever as fit as the others, but they reckoned they hadn’t either the time or desire to reach such a high level of physical well-being.

Anything between these two limits which happens to suit you for the moment will do to start off with ; as you progress you can add to your work without perceptibly adding to the exertion required to perform it ; as you grow fitter and apply your extended experience ycu are able to spread the same amount of energy over a wider field by economising with trifles here and there. There’s much more in this than would appear at first sight as you will soon find out if you try the experiment.

As a man gets to feel he is really improving he naturally wants to measure himself against his rivals. This means a race every now and again and the results, or so he thinks, tell him where he stands. They would, if the races were only now and again. But if there’s one thing we have yet to learn almost from the very beginning—for even the bulk of our present experts and coaches haven’t yet recognised it—it is that races should NOT be undertaken one after the other as is the present practice ; we must know more about the science of athletics.

Now look at this picture and draw your own conclusions. Suppose you foresee an emergency ahead when you will need, say, £100. Straight away you start saving up and putting aside all you can till you have the required £100 in the bank. If you’re sensible you’ll make sure there’s something over to allow for possible unforeseen contingencies. While you were about this you would no doubt consult your bank book to see how you were getting along from time to time, but the last thing you would ever dream of would be to take out all your savings and spend the bulk of them merely to make sure that they were really available. So when the time arrived you would have your nest-egg ready, plus a trifle over, and wouldn’t need to worry over anything.

Now apply that to training for a definite race which you have set your heart on winning, or perhaps at the first try getting placed. You undertake certain work in order to build up your reserves of energy, reserves that you know will be essential if you are to meet

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your   commitments  at   that   particular  event.    As  you   progress your general sense of well-being tells you just what stage you have got to ;   you consult your training achievements just as you might your bank book in the other case.    So long as you go on building up you are sure of yourself and have nothing in particular to worry about ;   in fact so little that, should an unforeseen expenditure of a reasonable amount have to be met, as in the case of a race which you suddenly decided to contest, you know you can meet it without drawing too heavily on the balance in hand.    Commonsense tells you that you MUST not overdraw or you’ll have much of your work to do all over again.    All your interim races, therefore, must be in the nature of moderate trials, not excessive ones ;   all you need to know is that your general condition is steadily improving. That’s how it should be.    Yet what is the general practice ? Fellows enter for practically every single race they can manage to attend and, on many occasions, run themselves almost to a standstill every time they compete.    It’s nothing less than sheer thoughtlessness, and it’s high time we realised that there is far too much racing nowadays compared to the amount of preparation fellows have undergone.

By all means enter for a race every now and again, but beyond making a good shot at it leave time trials and everything of that sort very much alone ;  they will only disturb your present balance and, if frequently indulged in, will lead either to constant troubles or such a disgust of the whole business as to cause permanent retirement before you’ve ever had a decent shot at your objective. If animals  don’t  go in for any particular training,  yet  have greater speed and endurance, how do they achieve their result ? By doing a steady amount of more or less gentle work every day and only on comparatively rare occasions letting out for all they are worth.    I am convinced that any man who wants to become an  outstanding  champion  should  arrange his programme  along these lines ;   I have seen it applied with quite astonishing success by several champions in long-distance running during recent years. Will you wait till it becomes common knowledge or get going while the going is good ?    To my mind a marathon man should not race seriously over his distance more often than once in six weeks— once in two months is probably better.

But the amount of work to be done between races will have to be considerable because the mileage of the race itself is considerable. If you’re going to contest a 26-mile event you must at least be used to a hundred miles a week—be able in fact to carry on like this without discomfort for a dozen weeks on end ; only then will you be able to get through such a race without a suspicion of distress. This gives you an idea as to how much is required in the way of training before you can hope to become really first-class at the game ; it will need, as I said before, not only months but actually years before you can get so used to a fifteen or eighteen miles daily spin that you can look at it just as a routine outing. You can get to that stage if you want to ; many have already done it. 

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But 90 per cent, of your practice during those two or three years of preparation should be of the moderate type ; just saunter along serenely at somewhere about nine to ten miles per hour when doing a 10-miler or 8-9 miles per hour when out for fifteen or twenty. Carry on like this and you will build up a constitution that will stand almost anything in the way of reasonable racing you care to put across it.

Men no longer run subconsciously like animals ; they have been working their brains for too long to be able to adopt such instinctive action without, a lot of practice. But you can get to that stage for training purposes if you keep it up long enough, just as you have already attained it for walking ; you don’t as a rule consider the action while you are out for a walk, your mind being busy with everything else.

Rhythm in your stride means everything, but it’s got to be applied throughout and not only with regard to the timing and length of your step. Running along the level is one thing and going uphill another. When you start climbing a hill the first thing to make sure of is that your ” wind ” doesn’t suffer too greatly, for that would mean upsetting the rhythm inordinately in that department ; so you will have to adjust your action to meet the altered circumstances. Keep on moving with exactly the same number of strides to the minute as you employed on the level, but shorten them in accordance with the gradient ; if the hill is very steep the reduction will have to be considerable. Your wind will tell you precisely what length is best if you keep an eye on it ; never under any circumstances permit yourself to be absolutely blown by the climb ; cut down your stride to any extent to avoid this, for it means that your heart and circulation are having to work furiously overtime to meet the excess you are putting across them, and overtime of this sort is energy misspent. Only at the end of a race can you afford to take any chances in this way.

Do NOT purposely lean forward (as so many tell you to) when going uphill ; it would be interfering with your natural balance and therefore adding to your work. All you have to think about is that your body generally is as near rest and unconcern as you can make it, just as it was while you were trotting along on the level.

When it comes to a downhill stretch you have another set of problems to attend to. Your stride, if you don’t take any particular notice of it, will naturally lengthen a bit. This is exactly as it should be ; it is a mistake to butt in and definitely give an order to that effect. Keep going at the same number of paces to the minute as before—anything between 175-190 that you are used to—and if your wind has suffered more than you think was perhaps good for it, take things easy enough to make sure it recovers, after which you can again adjust the pace to conform with your breathing.

You can gather from this that it is quite a mistake to think you

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can make up time going down hill. As a matter of fact if you have carried on at your most suitable pace throughout you cannot make up time anywhere except perhaps at the very end. At that point it will depend entirely on what reserves you have built up ; if you are better off in this respect than others you can proceed to run ” all out ” for the last half-mile or so. But even then don’t lose your head ; you must still bear in mind that you can last longer with a comparatively short stride than with a long one, though you’ll have to quicken the tempo to add to the pace.

Keep your wits about you every time you decide to overtake another man. If he likes to waste his energy that’s his concern, not yours, and he only will have to pay for it. So if he hangs on to you or won’t let you pass, don’t immediately force the pace in an endeavour to gain the position ; just carry on at your customary speed plus perhaps the merest trifle of increase. If you’re the better-trained man the other fellow will be obliged to drop back before long and it’ll be the last you see of him. A sudden sprint to pass him is nothing less than chucking away a lot of useful energy—energy you may need very badly before you reach the tape. It MIGHT frighten the other into thinking you were altogether too good for him, but what’s the use of winning races by a trick of that sort ? It’s YOUR real condition you want ,to prove to yourself and to others, not that condition plus tricks.

As soon as you’ve got your ” second wind,” probably after the first mile or so, use it as your guide : nothing else will serve you as well. If you lose the race after having genuinely done your best it must be because the other man had put more time and attention into his preparation or that his methods were better ; carry on a stage further with your own and you will be able to reverse the position next time, for it is only a matter of sufficient work of the right sort.

Nothing but your wind can tell you whether your pace is correct for conditions at the time, for your breathing is entirely dependent on the amount of energy you are bringing into use. If the day is hot you will be obliged (subconsciously) to sidetrack a certain amount of energy to your refrigerating system; that is, you will perspire freely in order to adjust your temperature. If some of your energy is being diverted that way there will be less left for running, with the result that you will either have to go slower or peter out before the tape is reached. Most of us blame the weather when this sort of thing occurs, though we really ought to blame ourselves for not adjusting our output to suit prevailing conditions.

Heat in itself is no bar to distance running, though, as I have just shown, it certainly affects the pace. I have run with dozens of others through part of Death Valley in California, one of the world’s super-hot spots ; yet every fellow covered his forty odd miles without any particular trouble because the lesson had already been well rubbed in that they had to adapt speed to temporary conditions.

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Unusually cold weather also has an adverse effect, for it is apt to hamper circulation and stiffen joints and muscles. A little extra care at the start will soon cure this, though the wearing of even a trifle too much in the way of clothing may tend to restrict action. In any case, extremes in the way of weather are bound to make a noticeable difference, though, as it is the same for all, those who have formed the habit of adjusting their tactics to suit will always come off best.

Perhaps one of the chief points is to regulate your training so as to be sure of always being on the safe side ; the least trifle of overdose, if persisted in, will surely lead to trouble of one sort or another, and this will cause inconvenience as well as loss of time. The first necessity is to train as often as possible, six days out of seven if you can arrange for it. Having seen to that, the question of amount can be settled without much difficulty, and as you progress this can be gradually increased. You can judge the amount necessary by results : a slight thirst is nothing out of the way, but a really fearsome one, lasting for hours afterwards, is a definite sign that either the pace or the distance has been too much, and curiously enough it is almost always the pace that is to blame. An occasional symptom of this sort may not do any harm to speak of, but for all that it should be avoided as far as possible as it means that your resources are being exploited towards straining point. If ever you get beyond such a stage without apparently doing any actual damage you will note that, not only are you unbearably thirsty but your appetite has entirely disappeared even for many hours after the event. There’s no need to rub the lesson in ; if you are actually in first-class fettle it may be excusable to exert yourself to such an extent for a really important race, but unless you are in outstandingly good condition such an experience is apt to be distinctly dangerous. All of which emphasises that you wear a head for use.

As likely as not you will think that the work I’ve advised is not only much more than you have any intention of doing, but actually far more than is strictly necessary ; and you don’t see why you should be called upon to do an ounce more than you need. Run through it all again in your mind and you cannot but come to the conclusion that every bit of it IS required. The amount needn’t frighten you at all; if you really intend to become a champion, you’ll have to go through every bit of whether it scares you or not. But prolonged training makes all the difference in the world, and after a year or so at it you will be just as astonished at your ability to dispose of a dozen miles before breakfast every day (or in the evening if that is your training time) as everybody else is to hear about it ; it only seems wonderful because so few have tried. Other men have done as much and even a great deal more ; what they did you know very well you can also do if you’re allowed time to prepare.

Why should you carry on to such an extent as fifteen to eighteen miles a day ? Well, the longer distances, such as the marathon,

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have not been nearly so fiercely competed as the 440 yards or the mile, and consequently there is still a wide margin to be cut from the present record times. Even today many of these races are won in around 2h. 40m., though the man who can do no better than that can hardly be considered first-class.

If there is one thing all the way through that frightens practically every prospective marathon merchant it’s the distance. Very good; then commonsense would insist that distance must be practised to such an extent that a 26-miler no longer holds any terror. The thing is simple enough ; you will have to drop the bulk of your present recreations and spend the time thus gained at training ; anything from two to three hours a day will have to be set aside for the game six days out of seven, though of course an occasional day off won’t do any harm. Some fellows do all their training at night, others only in the early morning. Personally I prefer the morning because traffic at that time is much lighter, though of course the temperature in winter is apt to be more trying. But the time doesn’t really matter much; your only concern is to fit it in.

If you apply the programme I have suggested there can be no doubt about your ultimate success for it allows for all contingencies in weather or anything else. To be practically sure of making record time when expected is much more satisfying to the runner —even if it does take more preparation—than the present method which trains a man till he’s so fit that, if he happens to strike luck he will just manage it, but only then. Please yourself which you tackle ; if you want only the best you must be prepared to work for it—it’s there for the taking.

CHAPTER XXIII

FOOD   OR   FADS

LET’S give theories, statistics and all that a miss, and have a casual look at diet from the ordinary active athlete’s point of view. What ought he to eat, when, and what effect does the food have on his abilities ?

You realise of course that every item of your physical make-up requires energy to keep it going ; even when you’re asleep heart, lungs, digestion and other odds and ends are all busy. According to the state of your health you have a large or small reserve of energy which can be drawn on at any time for any particular purpose. But first of all your physique (via the subconscious mind) will demand its quota whether you like it or not ; after that you may please yourself how you dispose of what’s left.

When you eat anything you have to supply energy to the organs which deal with the food, the amount depending chiefly on the sort of stuff you have given them. If it is of a very light and easily digestible character the expenditure may be almost negligible ; if it is heavy the requirements will be considerable. Your ” works,” via those of your ancestors from the time of Adam and Eve, know their job better than you do, and will either attend to it properly or refuse to tackle it at all—the margin between ” yes ” and ” no ” is pretty slight. Provided you’ve got the energy to spare and allow your works what they need, they will carry on in the very best style. But if you try to sidetrack what they reckon is theirs, they will get annoyed at once and start to kick ; continue with your robbery and they will call a lightning strike—you will vomit. It’s just a matter of plain commonsense ; if you don’t know what’s good for them, they do ; and they’re not going to waste time trying to make good your mismanagement.

But it’s not always like this. Sometimes you give them a dollop of fuel that doesn’t require much handling—sugar for instance. This seems to need so little in the way of assimilation that you can almost immediately let fly all your available energy in any direction, and your works won’t even hint at dissatisfaction. It’s useful to know this, as there are times when you badly need a bit of stoking to renew failing energies, and it is all important what effect the fuel will have.

Quite the best way to take sugar under these circumstances, and the quickest too, is to dissolve it in a short drink, either hot or cold, according to the atmospheric temperature. Diluted fruit juices, tea or coffee seem to be the most suitable for this purpose, for they give no hint of trouble, though it’s as well to remember that without sugar they are not really effective—it’s their sugar content that makes them worthwhile. By the way, don’t try and substitute glucose for sugar ; no matter what the text-books tell you it’s not in the same street so far as merit is concerned.

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On the other hand milk, meat-extracts, cocoa and similar concoctions require a great deal more attention from the digestive system and are therefore quite out of place while further abnormal activities are in sight. Any of these drinks are perfectly good and healthy when you’ve got time to relax considerably while our innards get busy with them ; but commonsense tells you that when there’s no spare energy to apportion to the organs it’s useless to give them stuff that will call for it. It is unfortunate that our athletic authorities frequently supply dope of this sort to marathon runners during a race, just when it is most necessary to avoid it.

Even the most luxurious steak-and-kidney pie won’t hinder you for a moment if you are content to allow your digestion its normal quota of energy while you carry on with what’s left. You can put away a first-class feed of any sort and immediately get up and run, provided you are in reasonable training of course. But as there’s not in this case a lavish supply of surplus vim the running has got to be of a very casual nature, no more than a comfortable trot of some seven miles to the hour. You already know that you can walk quite comfortably immediately after a big meal, and you can trot just as serenely when you’re in training. Meat extracts, cocoa or anything else may be taken as a drink with this meal, and still there will be no ill-effects whatever so long as you stick to an easy jog-trot. Every day I set off for my training run immediately after a breakfast of porridge, eggs and bacon, toast and marmalade and probably two cups of tea. Of course this sort of thing applies only to cross-country and long distance practice ; if you’re out on the track for anything between hundred yards and three or four miles you’ll need to be more circumspect with regard to the previous meal ; relatively fast work spells greater expenditure of energy in much less time, and proper allowance must be made for this. That’s why much more time must be allocated to digestion in the case of shorter distances than is necessary for long-distance work.

A long period of meticulous experimenting taught me that a simple unchanging diet is not nearly as productive of energy as a varied one, as you can prove for yourself if you like to try. Also that a vegetarian menu is not as good as a meat one unless you actually prefer it. You didn’t make your likes and dislikes with regard to various foods, Nature managed the business for you ; Nature generally knows what is needed, and what is needed is right. Saddle your digestion with anything you seem to fancy and you need have no qualms.

It comes to this, then ; so long as you are not about to race you can eat anything you like : the mere fact that you like a thing is proof that it is good for you so long as you don’t indulge to excess. To eat stuff that you don’t like or don’t care about is only loading your stomach with unwelcome goods, and it won’t get through its business with any enthusiasm, what’s more it won’t fail to object if you persist. You can take it as gospel, then, that particular dieting for athletes can be spatchcocked once and for all ; exercise, eat and drink like a healthy man and that’s what you will be.

CHAPTER XXII

TACTICS

AS I write this I sit ” choked off.” Very much so indeed ; every bit as much as can be implied politely. In fact I’m told several times over that I am arguing from a false position and that I am completely mistaken and entirely wrong because I don’t understand the subject. And the man who tells me this is a fairly well-known athlete. (KB.—” Methinks the gentleman protesteth too much.”)

Now I’ll admit it’s quite on the cards that he is right ; the mere fact that I think otherwise has nothing to do with it for the moment. But I rely always on the judgment of mature thought, so will leavo it to my readers to decide which of us has steered nearer to the truth.

The subject in question was ” tactics ” as applied in track and road races. My point was that, as practised and taught, they should be eliminated altogether. My choker-off was convinced they were, to use his own words : ” Essential to success.” The best thing I can do now is to put all my cards face up on the table and leave it to you to decide the issue. To start off let me say right out what my definitions of ” tactics ” and ” judgment ” are. I consider judgment refers solely to your own action and that when others enter into it you employ tactics to influence or counteract their action ; judgment for oneself only, tactics for oneself plus others.

Perhaps the best way I can get to work will be to quote from my correspondence : I have had many letters on the subject, not all of them admonitory. And then I can trot out my reasons for considering where we ought to improve. Here’s a specimen : ” Perhaps it is your connection with the pro’s years ago that gives you the idea that tactics implied several men ‘ ganging up ‘ to interfere with some other competitors to let another win.” I had of course been referring to what is called amateur sport, for in England we hear very little indeed of any other and are intentionally ” sheltered ” by our authorities from anything else so far as track and road athletics are concerned. What I had hinted at was that the phrase ” boxed in” had become quite understood and that such a misadventure really happened at times. I can pass over the implied stigma on professionals because the writer had, according to his own statements, never had anything to do with

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professionals and therefore couldn’t know much about them. However I, a professional runner in my later days, had always found my ” pro ” competitors precisely as decent in every way as the best amateurs, which is saying something. (N.B.—Do you hear complaints about the sportmanship of ” pro ” cricketers or footballers ?) But I’ll admit I’ve met many a fellow, NOT because they were amateurs but because their numbers so vastly exceeded the pro’s, who did not come up to my idea of the usual sportsman— fellows who looked forward to winning their events by any sort of trickery so long as it could not be called fouling.

If you haven’t seen men boxed in you’ve certainly heard about it and, except for a second or so, this sort of thing should be next door to an impossibility among decent athletes. I’ve been in that unfortunate position myself for a moment on occasions, but a touch on the arm of the outside man was quite sufficient to tell him I wanted to get out and I never knew it to fail. Others, I have every reason to believe, have known it to fail, but that was only because they were unfortunate enough to be involved with some who didn’t know the real meaning of sport. The fact remains that the phrase ” boxed in ” wouldn’t be so universally known and used unless such a thing had happened fairly frequently.

The writer in this particular instance goes on to say : ” This is not what we know as tactics and I have never known such ‘ tactics ‘ resorted to in our sport.” How was it that he had never known what everyone else knew—what everybody else had coined the phrase ” boxed in ” to describe ?

Here’s another excerpt for you. ” Our idea of tactics is judgment, getting the best out of oneself in relation to the rest of the field.” I disagree right away with the inclusion of those last eight words, except that I readily admit that tactics, as practised, are alterations in one’s action to attune with alterations in the conduct of others. As I am of the opinion that under no circumstances, unless quite unavoidable, should you pay any attention to the rest of the field during a race, this sentence should have read only ” getting the best out of oneself.” That, and that only, is exactly what I approve of : surely that’s your sole purpose in racing ?

You don’t need to be told, you know very surely that to get the best out of any subject you must concentrate on that subject ; any division of your attention to outside affairs at the same time will weaken your concentration and bring about an impaired lesult. Right ; apply that to racing. I say you should concentrate on your best running—practice will have taught you just about what your optimum pace will be—and ignore completely, so far as you are able, all other competitors ; that to make any alteration ” in relation to the rest of the field ” is to waste your own time and effort at the very moment when these are most urgently needed for the purpose of doing your very utmost. There is only one ” best ” that you are capable of, and any unnecessary change from that set speed involves loss of time that can never be made good. That is one of my chief reasons for suggesting the entire

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elimination of tactics. There can be only one ” best ” as far as you are concerned—YOUR best ; therefore every time you divert your attention to others you are dividing your energies between yourself and them instead of concentrating all on yourself. That was why I disagreed with the writer’s definition of useful (?) tactics. His reason for his opinion, in the light of what I have said above, will show you what sort of teaching we have had to put up with until now. He says : ” Your lack of experience in middle-distance running is no doubt the reason why you do not appreciate the vast difference between a race such as an 880 yards and one of 50 miles. In the shorter event you must take note of what your opponents are doing.”

Having been told off like this I thought it might strengthen my position if I gave the writer chapter and verse of the sort of tactics I was up against, the sort he said never occurred. I had no difficulty about that ; I just quoted a few sentences from an article on road running by an international man written approximately at the same time as our letters. Here are the tactics advocated : ” Don’t rush at the bottom of a hill but always try to encourage an opponent to do so. If you wobble a bit and look round fearfully you are quite likely to entice a man behind into making a big effort.”

If that’s not attempting to make a man do less than his best I don’t know what is. And to implement it you’d have to do less than your own best, would have to waste energy on trickery when you needed every bit of it for running. Yet I was told the same evening by another athlete—with a long career behind him—that he considered these tactics perfectly fair and above-board and could see nothing but commonsense about them. I applied all the arguments I have given you above but with no effect at all; he was convinced that such tactics were usually taught and were ” all part of the game.” To hammer his point home he wanted to know what you wore a head for if it wasn’t to help you to win. I left it at that, for I reckoned that until he was able to think logically there wasn’t the slightest hope of convincing him that such tactics were NOT in the interests of clean sport.

Mind you, I’m not blaming these men for what I think are mistaken opinions ; I know well enough they are quite sincere and have nothing but the best intentions. All that I can hope is that sooner or later the opinions of those who are able to reason more purposefully will compel them to look into and reconsider much of the faulty teaching that we were all brought up on. I also pointed out to this second man that we are all agreed on the necessity for progress, but that you couldn’t get progress without change. If only for that reason any proposed change should be given careful consideration.

Here’s another point of view where a correspondent looked at things one way while I found I was definitely on the opposite side. This time the reference was to a recent race where, as he admitted, a, second-rate man won, decisively beating four others, all of whom 

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were acknowledged to be faster merchants. It was pointed out that this second-rater won on his merits because he used the tactics he had been advised to employ.

Here are the chief details of the event. “A” is a strong runner but without the speed possessed by many of our best men ; the strong rugged type, coming through fast at the finish. If it was a fast-run race (he was taught), ” hang on to the leaders as long as possible and use your strength over the latter stages to hold on to the leaders as long as you can ; if a slow-run race (880 yards) go all the way from the bell (half-way).” When the next event came off the competitors included ” B,” ” C,” “,D ” and ” E ” and all these men had the beating of “A.” The race was run very slowly, first lap being 62 2/5ths. At the bell “A” dashed to the front and went ” hell-for-leather ” all the way. ” E ” followed him but could not close the gap of 1½ to 2 yards ” A ” had opened up. Then the others suddenly realised that they were getting a bit too far in front to make it comfortable and went after them. But try as they did they failed to catch “A” and ” E.” ” B ” did come through very fast to capture third place and was fast catching up on the leaders. At that point it was assumed I’d agree that “A” won on his merits. I did not, however. To my mind “A’s ” merits would have placed him in fifth position, since there were four others known to be his temporary masters at the game. These four, in my opinion, lost their places because they employed tactics ; they went very much slower in the first lap than they could have decently managed, each intending to outwit the other with a sudden and surprising burst later on towards the finish. Had each of them gone at his best racing pace from the start “A,” who was not so fast a man would have been left behind at once and could never have caught up. Had “A” tried to stay with them he would probably not even have finished, for he would have been run to a standstill in the first half.

When you take the circumstances into account I’ll agree that perhaps “A” deserved to win ; they were all trying to trick each other and, as trickery and not running was the first consideration, “A’s ” tactics came out on top. Actually what really happened only went to show what a disastrous mistake the other four had made in using tactics at all. “A,” to my mind, didn’t ” win on his merits ” but won because of the lack of merits on the part of his rivals. He could never have won up to that time against any of those four had sheer running ability without tactics been the order of the day, so the victory can’t have been an altogether satisfactory one either from his or his rivals’ points of view. From all of which I would argue that the use of tactics, relative to others, once more proved quite unworthy of consideration. What’s your verdict ?

CHAPTER XXI

WHEN ARE  YOU AT  YOUR BEST ?

IT was on the tip of my tongue to reply ” Never ” in reply to the above question, but I remembered just in time that it might not be strictly correct. All the same it would be fairly accurate to say that you never really know when you’re in top form ; you can only gather an impression from the results achieved. A youngster may feel good enough to tackle anything, and yet blossom out as a miserable failure because mental exuberance overcame his commonsense and made him squander his abilities instead of con­serving them for the right time—a proof that his mental department, anyhow, was by no means at its best.

In any case your ” best ” is no more than a temporary affair. Last week you may have put up a more exhilarating show than ever, but it’s always on the cards that you’ll eclipse even that effort if you get on with the work instead of—as so many do—wallowing in a binge of satisfaction.

Age of course has a lot to do with it. No one will deny that around 1927-28 Nurmi was about at his summit over the mile, or that he had lost a trifle of speed and was ahead of everyone else at the marathon distance ten years later. Yet, judging from my own experience, I’m almost certain Nurmi never produced his

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absolute best ; temporary and local conditions always provided a fly for the ointment when he had to compete. Had he been able to get officials together at half an hour’s notice and race at the time he himself would have chosen, I’m pretty sure he would have astonished us even more than he did.

If I say that, it’s because I learnt very definitely after years of training that an estimation of my own condition could never be relied on to the last limit, for there were occasions now and then, often quite unsuspected till they cropped up, when I could have done better than ever if only a race had chanced to coincide at that time.

As usual, I have to dig into my memory to supply pertinent examples. I remember that at Hamilton in Canada, where, by the way, the first Empire Games were held, Gavuzzi and I had been for some months without anything serious in the way of competition, for we were getting ready to tackle records ; forty miles in his case and twenty-four hours for me. I had already gathered in the ” 40 ” on several occasions and knew therefore pretty well what was wanted ; but as Gavuzzi had not as yet ever made an attempt, he came out for a daily spin of from twenty-five to thirty-five miles with me. About a month before the event, while out on the road and only ten miles from our quarters—we had already covered twenty miles at an average of 8½ to the hour—I suggested that while we still had plenty of time in hand he’d better get a sample of exactly what would be required when the occasion arose. He agreed it would be as well and told me to travel at racing speed for the next few miles just to see what it was like. Although on principle I object altogether to racing during training, I don’t think that a moderate fling like this does a fellow any harm at all, provided, of course, he doesn’t make a habit of it.

Now, though neither of us realised it at the moment, Gavuzzi was not quite in his usual fettle, whereas I found work somehow easier than ever, and was evidently in top-class trim. Anyway I set off at a good ten miles to the hour on the understanding that he was to keep within hail till we reached the outskirts of the town eight miles farther on. Running at this pace I had no time for talking, nor had he ; all I had to do was to maintain an even speed and trust to his doing so on his own account. We were both ” quiet ” runners, so I didn’t worry when after about a mile I could no longer hear him, for I knew he was easily fit enough to catch me if he really wanted to.

The miles slipped by astonishingly easily and when I arrived at the chosen spot I slowed down and looked round for him. Even now I remember how uneasy and distressed I felt to see him nearly half a mile distant. Gavuzzi was a permanently good-natured man, as are all who are in splendid physical trim, yet the first remark he made when he came up was : ” What’s stung you ? ” Of course I apologised handsomely and told him I was so concentrated on the business in hand that I hadn’t dreamt he was finding it rather too much of a good thing. Between ourselves, however,

it’s worth while noting that he had the sense to keep well within his limits, making no effort to keep to the pace I had set when he found he was not in the mood for it. Anyway, the lesson wasn’t wasted, for when the race came off he kept well up to the required standard for more than two hours and then, quite unexpectedly developed serious chafing, had to retire and leave it to McNamara to capture the record.

There is no getting away from it, there are times when you line up feeling completely ready and thoroughly prepared to achieve your best ever, yet while you are at it you discover that something, too nebulous perhaps to be clearly recognised, is steadily applying the brake and you just can’t do as well, or anything like as well, as you know you ought to.

The question arises can you do anything worthwhile to counteract this ? My own opinion is that you can’t. The most you CAN do is to take every precaution and you will then have the satisfaction of knowing that, whatever the result may be, you were the victim of circumstances outside your personal control. Besides, as I said before, it is no more than a temporary setback ; sooner or later you’re bound to find that at last the combination of race and realisation of top form have coincided.

I never believed, as many apparently do, in running only to win an outstanding event ; it always seemed to me to be only proper, in fact only sensible, to do your actual best, no matter whether you happen to be miles ahead or miles behind, for after all you can never be certain you’ll get another chance. If you find you can put up a new course or international record, why not do so ? As you know there are such things as sickness and accidents, and if your luck let you in for anything like that you might have to drop out of athletics temporarily, a misfortune that happens to all of us at times.

I ran, and even raced, for years after my peak of achievement had been passed, and knew it. Even if I couldn’t do as well as formerly I still had as much as ever to learn, and felt that what I could gather in this way would be useful to others who came after me. It came in very handy too, for I was able to assure Ballington, and keep on assuring him without any ” maybe ” about it, that his chances for the ” hundred ” on the Bath Road were so good as to be a practical certainty, and with a lot to spare. Very naturally, being a particularly modest man, he felt it wasn’t as easy as it sounded ; yet the fact that he had a lot of confidence in my statements must have helped rather than hindered his training. And presently he gathered it in — with “a, lot to spare,” viz. forty-five minutes.

Early in 1932 I had coached a French-Canadian along similar lines and he lapped it all up, pondered over it, and finally went mtp intensive training for the purpose, with the result that he ultimately put up the Canadian road record for 100 miles, and he is a man well on in middle age.

You may take it then that what these men did in their own line

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you can do in yours, for they were just ordinary fellows like the rest of us and in no way ⁽ⁱ born to succeed ” athletically.

Your best, then, lies ahead, and always ahead, until age steps in and prohibits it ; after which you can transfer from activity to assistance and use your experiences to help others along the road you journeyed in your prime.

CHAPTER XX

TRAINING   BY   THERMOMETER

MY personal opinion on this subject—the thermometer should be an athlete’s servant, not his boss—may be very different from yours, but when you’ve thought out what I’ve got to say you might perhaps alter your outlook.

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If the thermometer has been your boss hitherto, you’re one of the guilty ones, as the great majority of men are. Work or giving -it-a-miss, according to the reading of the instrument, has become so much of a custom that it doesn’t occur to most of us that there is another side to the question. Admitted that atmospheric temperature plays a big part in athletic training—as it does in so much else—yet to my way of thinking it doesn’t amount to any­thing like so much as many seem to consider. It may be that civilisation is softening us so much that we are apt to look for unnecessary physical comfort even when such a thing is quite out of place.

Take the average track athlete, though as a matter of fact the principle applies to all forms of exercise, as you know, it’s all too common a practice to avoid a workout temporarily when the thermometer shows a tendency towards the abnormal, apparently with the idea that exercise is unsuitable under such conditions. Perhaps it would be nearer the truth if you said ” uncomfortable.” Yet when you get down to brass tacks, all weather wet. cold, fine or hot and sunshiny, is perfectly natural, and as exercise is natural too it can be sandwiched into any sort of weather that happens to turn up. Seasons, anyway the athletic ones to which we have become such absolute slaves, actually have nothing whatever to do with it : we’ve merely invented them to suit ourselves and the convenience of the public who fan the sport. Finland, Sweden and North America have already begun to learn the lesson and it’s quite time we learnt too.

Just as you alter your dress for the season or weather, so you can alter your programme of exercise to suit prevailing conditions. If you indulge in out-of-door training, as of course you always should when possible, you’ll put on extra clothing in winter so as to keep reasonably warm, though even then the exercise ought to be relied on to provide most of the additional heat required. I’ve seen fellows sweating profusely on a cold day only because they had overloaded themselves with clothing for the work they were doing. This is the sort of thing that breeds trouble. You can be pretty sure they had been uncorking more speed than was wise or they wouldn’t have been in such an unsavoury state.

When anything like long-distance work on road or track is concerned it is distinctly better to be a trifle on the cold side than otherwise—I’m referring to training, not competition, at the moment—because too much heat will not only slow you down but will actually weaken you with over-heavy perspiration as well; whereas if you felt a bit chilly you’d be apt to put a trifle more ginger into it and a natural warm-up would follow. If it happened to be exceptionally cold you might even think of putting in more than the usual quota of training because temporary conditions would allow you to do so without taking it out of you as warmer weather would.

So you see you should still ” train by thermometer ” though not, as most fellows do, get busy only when they consider its reading

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meets with their approval. If you want to be a class athlete— and who doesn’t ?—you must train all the year round no matter what the instrument says ; and you might well note, too, that there is no one to stop you except yourself.

As you know, there are times in winter when a prolonged trip on road or track sounds like real hardship, but that’s only because you’re not used to it. I find that when there IS snow on the ground I go farther—put in more time at training—than ever I do in summer. I just tell you that to show you it was the training, not the comfort, that had ” first call.”

Raining ? All right ! as you can’t stop it you may as well grin and bear it. It’s al] nonsense to avoid it on the ground that i’t will give you a cold ; though if you are absolutely convinced that it will, it is probable that your mind working on your physique will allow you to succumb to such a thing more easily than other­wise. Do dogs and horses and wild animals catch cold through being out in the rain ? So long as it’s not too cold and windy, the usual track costume is good enough ; for anything else a woollen sweater with the cotton vest outside is the thing. Wool doesn’t feel so abominably cold in the wind as wet cotton, and after all there’s no need to be overmuch of a martyr.

As you can’t alter the thermometer reading you must adjust your work to suit it. For instance, there’s the time of day you set aside for your workout, and remember, it should be almost a daily affair, not a bi-weekly or weekly event. In the winter it-may be better to turn out in the afternoon or evenings as it is apt to be somewhat less cold then. When the mercury climbs sky-high you can work things the other way round. In this case there should be no speeding or actual strenuous work of any kind or you will be unduly weakened by excessive perspiration. So for this sort of atmosphere the early morning is more suitable, and you can go through the exercise you decide to be necessary very much more casually than you would on a cooler day, taking care that the perspiration, at any rate as far as you can manage it, is kept within reasonable limits. You’re bound to sweat a bit, but in order to avoid an overdose you’ll be obliged to cut out any really fast work or heavy exertion. Yet not for a moment need you fear it will entail a loss of speed or energy when such are required ; it will have just the opposite effect, for by training in this manner under these conditions you are building up stamina, and this will enable you to maintain your former speed or effort for a greater distance or length of time than before. The actual speed, or ability to let fly a sudden burst of energy, is always there, whereas the stamina has to be developed. Without adequate stamina speed of itself is worse than useless, for it will almost certainly lead to physical breakdown.

You have probably discovered before this, even though you haven’t acted on it, that you can do an increased amount of work in cold weather without getting any more tired than a shorter quota would make you in summer. I’m only telling you what I

found the conditions to be in my own case ; you can easily put it to the test yourself if you want to, and verify it. I came to the conclusion that, from a purely mechanical point of view, since a similar amount of energy was always used to move yourself over a similar distance, the wastage noticeable in hot weather must be the result of the only obvious difference in your condition under the different circumstances. In other words the wastage was caused by perspiration. There can be no doubt that a large part of vour available energy is used to create and sustain perspiration, your system taking this course subconsciously whether you like it or not with the object of keeping your body temperature as near normal as possible. Now none of us ever wants to chuck useful energy away to no purpose, but that’s what you’ll be doing if you carry on to excess. That’s why I advise you to ” go slow ” when the heat is more than usually noticeable.

Again, you know no doubt that you should never get badly tired when training : it would be making the same mistake— though perhaps in a different way—as having a ” time trial”, a serious fault which is still advised in many of our most modern text-books. Your business is to build up, not break down. Just carry on each day until you feel you have had a decent dose—if you’re after championships it might even be a fairly hefty one— and then stop and have your bath. Before long you will know just how much you can manage under any given circumstances of weather and temperature without in any way overstepping the reasonable mark. Once you have arrived at that stage it is easy enough to judge your immediate requirements for the event you have in mind. Personally I always used to size up the position when I had done about half the distance I had intended ; then, if I didn’t feel as full of beans as I could wish, I’d turn tail and get back. But there were other times when I felt energetic enough to add quite a considerable amount to my daily ” ration ” and I’d put the extra energy into extra training. Consequently the length of my outing varied from day to day. It seems to me this is a more sensible plan than trying to force yourself to keep to a daily schedule.

Yet one thing remained fairly steady, and that was the average of time or distance I devoted to training. I soon learnt that in my own case a daily schedule was a complete mistake, because on no two days was either I or the weather the same. But a weekly schedule made a convenient allowance for vagaries of this sort and consequently that was what I adopted. Even then it wasn’t the usual sort of schedule, for I quite admitted my inability to master all the factors concerned. What I set myself was a minimum in mileage, and unless travel or physical breakdowns prevented it I’d put up with no excuse for failing to reach it. To make sure about this and feel it was safe, I generally managed to put up the whole of the distance in the first four days ; then, if I wanted to, I felt I could take things easier the last two—I seldom ran on Sundays unless lack of training during the week made it necessary.

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Under these circumstances my schedule was, as often as not, greatly exceeded. I was always anxious to get the week’s work beyond the minimum mark and piled it on a bit until I had done so ; then, finding I could do a bit more, I took the opportunity to go while the going was good. Failure to complete my weekly schedule was a rare thing indeed and was in every case due to strains or serious discomforts of one sort or another.

My hobby was, as you know, long-distance work on the road, but you will understand that what I have told you above holds good in principle for all running no matter whether it’s a mile or a marathon ; holds good indeed for all athletic exercise. All you have to do is to apply the thing in principle to your own pet form of activity and work out the results.

To sum it all up I would say that, quite regardless of seasons, your aim throughout the year should be to sustain a reasonable standard with regard to output of energy while training. This standard will become enhanced as you progress and, if you carry on long enough, using what intellect tells you are the best methods and sticking consistently to them, you will find that it will bring within your reach almost any goal you set yourself, even though at the moment such an achievement may seem to be beyond vour highest expectations. Other men have done as much, and you’re no less of a man than they were, and you know it. So get busy.

CHAPTER XIX

GENUINE  BREATHING  EXERCISES

I’VE seen a lot of senseless controversy at one time or another

caused by men telling writers they’re wrong, while at the same time they’re quite unable to give an adequate reason for such a statement. If a thing IS wrong it should be easy to point out the mistake, and when that is done readers will be quick enough to settle for themselves which side of the argument is correct.

I mention this because I’ve been “hauled over the coals” in this manner many times in connection with the present subject, and nearly always, or so it seems to me, by men who had not adequately thought the matter out. I may still be wrong, but you can’t expect me to alter my opinions until I’m given a sound reason for so doing. The mere idea of breathing exercises being fallacious is so new that men are apt to balk at it, and pour out a stream of other people’s opinions without putting it to the test of their own thinking machine. Admitted that my viewpoint on this subject is entirely unorthodox, but any clear advance from the present ” normal ” always is unorthox until it is accepted as ” correct procedure.” So I would ask you to follow out the reasoning I’m giving you here, and thereafter you can form your own opinion.

Taking deep breaths to develop lung expansion seems to be quite popular with many people though, at any rate as far as the average man is concerned, such action is based on a fallacy, viz. that thereby they will attain the vitality which nothing but active exercise can bestow.

Do you take specific heart exercises ? Of course not ! Or exclusive circulation exercises ? Again no. Well, your breathing started at the same time as your un-assisted circulation and is one of its components. If you want to stimulate your circulation you

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take physical exercise : Nature has no other method. If you want to enhance your breathing apparatus you should do exactly the same; heart and lungs share all work with the muscles and benefit equally.

Do you feel any better after you have held your breath for half a minute ? It is just as useless to force your lungs to work point -lessly twice as fast or double the expansion in the same interval. Interfering with Nature, when there is no call for interference, is always a mistake and always will be. The only way to teach your lungs to stand up to heavier work is to give them ” penny installments ” of that work at short intervals and frequently : they will then gradually build up as required. But don’t forget that as soon as you cease to educate them thus they’ll cease to retain the capability you’ve built up. In other words it’s just a waste of time to try to develop lungs for work which you’ve no intention of pursuing for any length of time.

Deep breathing, without the exertion which necessitates it, is like heavy feeding without the exercise which calls for added nourishment ; the lungs are needlessly overloaded with what is not required and use not an atom more oxygen than they want ; just as in the other case the stomach is overworked and can make no use at all of the surplus nourishment supplied.

You didn’t teach yourself to breathe, and if you interfere un­necessarily with the functioning of the lungs, you are more likely to cause trouble than anything else. If you are not breathing in a natural way it is only because you are not taking natural exercise, and the remedj^ for that is simple—see that you DO take it, even if it is only for ten or fifteen minutes a day. Even the modern office clerk, perhaps the man who suffers most from restricted action, can take a quick walk every morning and evening if he makes up his mind to it. With that, and a more generous dose at the week-end, a man can expect to keep his lungs in reasonably good condition, good enough for his way of life anyhow.

Good lungs, like everything else worthwhile, have to be worked for. Stick at the work and you’ll find they stay efficient ; get tired of it and they, too, will suffer a relapse. But you can’t fool them with a counterfeit, however ingeniously it may be camouflaged.

Plain logic, therefore, tells us that the only beneficial breathing exercises are those brought about by activity and physical exertion ; and the obvious moral is that to attempt to obtain the same benefits without doing the necessary work is only fooling yourself that you know better than nature.

CHAPTER XVIII

LONG WALKS – NO!

I’VE been reading one of our most modern books on training for running. Most of the advice was, or so I thought, just what was needed ; it gave an impression of careful study and considerable thought ; and as the outlook was decently broadminded it came as a shock when I suddenly collided with a point I couldn’t stomach at any price. It was as though the author had over-run red traffic lights without having been aware of their existence—he not only advocated, but even emphasised as so many others have done in previous books, the wisdom of taking long walks if fellows wanted to learn to run well.

I’m quite aware that I’m not inevitably right ; there’s always a chance, and quite a big one, that I’m wrong, but in this particular instance it looks to me as though the boot were on the other foot and no two doubts about it. My own experience, after having covered more than an eighth of a million miles afoot, tells me that walking, like any other’ natural exercise is excellent in itself, but does nothing whatever to help a runner to run : you might just as well expect talking to help a singer to sing;, for both are voca! exercises.

It seems queer that we didn’t discover this long ago. Pick a casual score of men as you go along the street, all between the ages of twenty and forty, and you can take it for granted that they are all quite capable of walking anything up to about ten miles on end.

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some, no doubt, very much more. How many of them could run half that distance without a stop ? Probably not more than ten per cent, and then only those who had specially trained for it. In rough figures that’s somewhere about what it would work out to. That proves right away that walking doesn’t make runners at all, or they’d all be able to run at any rate half as well as they could walk.

No author has yet attempted to tell us in what way runners benefit by taking long walks except to point out that such exercise develops stamina. Prolonged any-other-exercise does exactly the same thing, but you wouldn’t, for instance, tell a runner that he must do a lot of boat-rowing (which gives exercise for the legs and feet) as part of his specialised training for running, so the extra stamina theory hasn’t brought a solution of the problem any nearer. Evidently it is a question that only reason can decide, since mere practice hasn’t so far given us a definite ruling.

Both running and walking are primarily leg exercises, and it would seem therefore that they ought to assist each other. That’s what you’d expect and what, if you didn’t give the matter any thought, you’d state. Yet actual practice doesn’t show any such thing. Fellows may take long walks and run splendidly, yet there seems to be little doubt that if they cut out the walks, even cut them out entirely, they’d still be able to run just as well. I’ve tried both, and for the last half-dozen years of my training only indulged in long walks when running practice was highly inconvenient. When training hardest I walked least.

For many decades it has been drummed into us that walking is an essential item in a runner’s programme, and it has sunk in so deeply that it will take a lot of shifting. But it’s high time we stopped taking for granted everything that has come down to us from our grandfathers ; instead we ought to investigate each detail for ourselves. There’d be no need to take this trouble if our knowledge were complete, but we all know that nothing ever stays quite still ; everything in life—and this includes training of course—either progresses or the reverse, and unless we keep constantly on the move we shall be steering for the scrap heap.

Walking has become a fine exercise, though it might be as well to remember that in prehistoric days it wasn’t an exercise at all; it was merely a convenient means for covering very short distances. All animals, and man is one, had to learn to walk before they could learn to run—a proof that running is more suited to active existence than walking since it must have been acquired at a later date in animal history. Once they had mastered the double lesson they dispensed with walking almost entirely and trotted everywhere. Take a look at wild life in the bush or on the veldt when it doesn’t know it’s being observed and you will notice that practically everything proceeds at a trot unless circumstances render such action dangerous. Almost the only time wild life walks is when it is feeding or stalking.

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We humans walk more than we run because we have been able to drop so much of the violent exercise of former times and have replaced it with more moderate types. Yet to the really well-trained man trotting is distinctly easier than walking ; even today I would far sooner trot fifteen miles than walk a dozen—and I’m in the old-age-pension class. Proof that it actually IS easier is shown by the fact that the trotting records are always ahead of the walking ones ; also that the only men who came in anywhere in the 3,500-miles American Transcontinental Footraces were those who trotted nearly all the time.

Walking, like swimming or any other natural exercise, will make and keep a man fit without any running at all;   and you might note that the reverse is equally true—running, for those who wish to specialise temporarily, will also make and keep you fit whether you walk or not.    Neither walking nor swimming nor any other exercise will add in any way to your running abilities ;   each of them has its own sphere to cover and beyond adding to the general health and stamina extends very little outside.    In other words, from the runner’s point of view long walks are only a waste of time : any other action than running merely sidetracks time and energy which could profitably be devoted to further specialised development. Mind, I wouldn’t have you think for a moment that I despise walking :   far from it.    As a matter of fact I would always fight shy of super-specialisation at running because it is apt to lead to a sort of lopsided result—a man’s legs become splendidly developed while his arms fail to keep pace, and this sort of thing applies similarly to any single form of sport.    Quite a fair proportion of your spare time therefore might well be devoted to walking, swim­ming or games of any description and, although they won’t enhance your running abilities, they’ll do a lot of good in other respects.

Now for another side to it, and one that I’ve left very much alone till now. I can’t help thinking that ordinary walking and healthy youth don’t go overwell together. Ask any active schoolboy which he’d rather do, go for a long walk or have a good game of football, and 99 per cent, would plump for the game. Young men should, in the nature of things, be very lively and active and would almost certainly wish to indulge in exercise which had a spice of excitement about it, and you can’t accuse walking of that. I suppose it’s our upbringing that makes us still do so much of it, probably due to our having been, indirectly anyhow, taught that what was good enough for our forefathers must be good for us too, and this regardless of the fact that the lapse of time ought to have effected improvements or called for adjustment in many ways. Fifty years ago the bulk of the nation might have been less practised in athletics because of lack of opportunity and equipment; and whereas walking might then have suited a large number of men, our more active modern life needs a more energetic form of exercise to keep us up to the mark.

It seems to me, then, that the average young man would be better off if he left long walks until later on in life when strenuous exercise won’t have so great an appeal; surely it’s better to make use of opportunities for vigorous action while he is fully capable of enjoying it.

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From the above you can gather what my advice to runners would be, and not only to runners but to all athletes, for in principle the thing holds good throughout all sports. I’d tell them to study and practise running first of all, and to spend more time at it than any other form of recreation if they want to make a mark of sorts. But I would at the same time advocate reasonable indulgence in any other athletic activity that gave pleasure, provided of course that it did not definitely interfere with the specialised subject. Weight lifting and long-distance running, for instance, would not mix well, any more than would distance cycling and distance running, though a trifle of either would not make any appreciable difference to the other. If walking happens to be your fancy, get busy with it, but, and I would underline this, never take any other exercise whatever as an integral part of your specialised training.

CHAPTER XVII

WHAT IS   THE  BEST  ATHLETIC  AGE ?

YOU can be pretty safe when you say that this is one of those problems that defy a hard and fast solution. But in spite of that you can get as near to it as no matter if you take a careful survey of the principal factors.

On the surface it would appear that when a man is in the first flush of full physical development he must necessarily be at his best, so far as muscles, suppleness and energy go. In one sense that’s right enough, and it will explain why sprinters are undoubtedly at their prime in the earlier twenties. But having got so far you come to a point where there’s more in it than mere muscles and suppleness : mental equipment has to be taken into account as well, and with its aid some years can be added to the apparent summit period.

You see it’s like this : we must have been just physical animals for thousands of centuries before we developed brains to such an extent that they could be trusted to take entire command and oven over-rule instinct. Now that we’ve reached that stage we’ve lost most of our instinctive action, and intellect has to rule the roost instead. It does this to such purpose that we have already learnt how our minds can direct and enhance physical action ; can develop abilities to an even greater extent than any ” born athlete ” who fails to use his head to advantage. That will explain why, in athletics, the white man has always beaten the coloured man whose brains are not so advanced, except when he has taken his coloured rival in hand and trained him as he trains other whites. That gives you a. sound reason as to why the blacks should, at any

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rate temporarily, beat the whites at sprinting, for they’re much less removed from atavism and savagery, and consequently have less (ground to make up. But they don’t make it up until the white has taught them just how to do it.

During an actual sprint intellect doesn’t get much of an innings because there isn’t time ; a fellow just lets out for all he is worth and his energies are momentarily devoted to that and nothing else ; all the headwork is done beforehand in cultivating correct action and quick response. But from sprinting distance onwards more time is available for mental supervision during the actual event, with the result that its advantages become more and more significant. Have you ever heard of a coloured man who had any chance against a well-trained white at long distances ? All the same, when we start seriously to train blacks for this kind of event we shall probably get the same results as we’ve already done in sprinting and boxing.

Again, sprinting probably requires less actual thinking than any other form of exercise except casual walking. Oh no ! I’m not suggesting that those who go in for it are in any way less brainy, for that is not the case ; they merely take naturally to a form of sport for which they are physically and mentally suited, knowing instinctively that they can obtain results more quickly in that way, and very wisely they make the most of such temperamental urge. We already know that a sprinter’s finest period is the shortest of all in duration—just a few years around the early twenties and no more.

Once beyond sprinting, however, most forms of athletics depend for their success on brain work during their performance ; more time is involved not only in training but in the competition itself, for experience and judgment come increasingly into the picture. Correct judgment of your own abilities becomes the supreme test, and that can be obtained only by persistent experiment. This is the snag that holds up the majority of athletes because, and only because, they have not been long enough at the game to assess their ability correctly and adjust their action accordingly.

Why do fellows fall out of a race or fail to finish anywhere near where they know they ought to ? Why do boxers take an unmerciful hammering and still try to carry on ? Simply because they haven’t adequately judged what they were up against and have not therefore devoted a, good deal more time and trouble to prepare for their contest. It is nearly always the same, and the lesser lights retire temporarily defeated yet knowing that they could most certainly do far and away better if they punished themselves with more intensive preparation.

No matter what the event, whether cycling, boxing, rowing, running or anything else where more than a few seconds are required for its achievement, success can always be realised by weighing up the conditions and thereafter undergoing adequate training to meet them. Anyone can put in a furious burst to start with, but unless he is pretty certain of immediate success—

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and be almost certainly isn’t—he is making a free gift of the event to his rival or competitors. Admitted you can’t always do the ri”ht/thins, but reasonable caution has won more contests than it IrTs lost while taking a chance more often brings about the reverse. “you can look at it this way. Physical growth is already well on its wav even before the time”of birth ; whereas reason on account .fits being a later stage in development, doesn’t make a start until a child begins to speak, and its development period long outlasts that of mere physical expansion. So far as the mind only is concerned an athlete would probably be at his best for prolonged exertion when he was between thirty-five and fifty, but by that time his muscles and whatnots have become set and have lost so much elasticity that mental direction, however efficient, may not he sufficient to outbalance the physical superiority of men considerably younger.

It is evident, then, that a man’s best time for protracted competition must be assessed from a combination of physical and mental maxima, and this leaves us with a range of from about twenty-five to forty-five years. Of course you are bound to strike an exception here and there. Ballington, the South African, beat world’s track record by a very wide margin in his 100-miles race at the age of twenty, and another man of more than twice that age did the same thing though not so well at an earlier date. Yet that actually doesn’t mean so much, for Ballington could very certainly have done even better had he been able to continue training, just as the older man would almost surely have made a hotter show had he taken to the game when younger.

That may all sound straightforward enough but there’s still another point which is no less so ; and that is at the age of, say, twenty-five, a man’s physical capabilities are certainly at their peak. The mere fact that a sprinter begins to lose a trifle of his speed after that age shows that all his muscles must be similarly affected. Not only that, but if he is at his physical peak he must also be at his recovery peak at the same time. And as stamina is assuredly a physical attribute he can be at his stamina peak then too. Actually “of course we don’t all go in for training to bring us to our ” peak ” at that age ; and consequently where stamina and speed are wanting, they can be very considerably improved at a later date by conscientious work. But it seems to me to be unlikely that a man well over twenty-five could ever get quite to the standard of speed, strength and recovery which might have been his at that aero—which would have been his had he been perfectly trained from childhood. But then none of us is anything like perfectly trained throughout all the years of bodily growth, though probably the ” born athlete ” gets nearer to it than the rest of us. Hackenschmidt, for instance, who was admittedly the finest physical specimen of the modern world, spent almost every moment he could spare during his childhood and youth at speed- and body-building exercises and, having been born a ” strong man “—like Bach was a ” born musician ” or Sir Oliver Lodge a ” born thinker “—was

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able to outpoint any and every man he ever came up against. To my mind it is only in a case of this sort that the man-in-the-street meets his master ; so many ” born athletes ” fail to attain their real status for want of continuous and intensive training, that the man who really does tackle the job thoroughly stands more than a good chance of beating the best of them. That he does stand such a chance is proved over and over again. The ” born ” runner recognises his ability without having to look for it and. like born musicians or born mathematicians, shows up at an early age. Yet neither Ballington nor I were ever particularly attracted in this way ; both of us took up running with the idea of learning something we were unused to, something which would improve health and keep us reasonably fit. It was only after (in my ease nearly twenty years after) we had got to that stage, that top class performances began to appear on the horizon as possi­bilities, and then we had to get stuck into work more strenuously than we had formerly considered possible.

Don’t lose heart, then, if you’ve not reached the standard you’ve had in mind. Think it over carefully ; decide what is necessary in the way of training ; then set to again, and finally do even a bit more preliminary work than you decided. It CAN be done !

CHAPTER XVI

MERE  EMPTY  THEORY  OR   .   .   ?

PROVIDED it is of the right sort, the greater amount of training for any subject you can get through the more efficient you’re bound to become at it. That’s only commonsense, isn’t it ? While we all admit it we fail, and go on failing to apply it to athletics.

I’ll take sprinting as an example because in this particular form of running a greater contrast is provided than with other styles, though all are involved. Just one axiom first to work on : If a theory is absolutely sound for one distance it must be equally to in principle for all.

Well, what does the modern textbook define as preparation for the 100 yards sprint nowadays ? Something of this sort—a month or six weeks to reach top form, and in the meantime half-a-dozen practice starts with a 50 yard and 70 yard burst for Mondays, plus perhaps a quarter of a mile jog round the track ; practice starts and two 100 yards sprints on Tuesdays; Wednesdays “off”; Thursdays, 50 and 75 yards sprints again with practice starts and a quarter-mile jog; Fridays “off” and an event or time trial on Saturdays. All the starts and sprints to be carried out at top speed of course.

Now look through that schedule carefully and you’ll begin to realise why Wednesdays and Fridays (as well as Sundays of course) are set aside as rest days ; they jolly well have to be or the budding sprinter might be stale in a fortnight. Here we have 33 per cent. of the days suitable for training ruled clean out to make allowance for the overwork on the others. If you added Sundays the percentage would be even greater. Personally I didn’t rest altogether, even on Sundays, because I knew it would not be wise ; I generally indulged in many miles of walking at a strictly comfortable pace.

If nothing else has taught us the folly of such training, common-sense should come to our aid. No doubt you’ll agree that physical effort and food are both daily desirabilities. Would you consider it rational to over-eat on four days of each week and starve the other three ? Yet because of faulty practice in the past we are taught to carry on with athletics in this way today.

The whole fault lies in the tempo of the training. Animals feed and exercise to a greater extent than we do, yet, unless they are absolutely forced to, they never go ” all out.” How is it then that most of them can easily outrun a man ? It must be because they do far more work in the training line and do it without any days of rest in between. Yet nearly all their work is reasonably easy.

In long distance running for men it has recently been proved in a very decisive manner—McNamara, Ballington, Pat Dengis, Tom Richards—that much more work of a less intensive character than heretofore is essential to betterment; in other words that a man should train in the same way as all other animals. If it is true for long-distance work it must be equally true in principle for all types of running. Yet what sprinter today would ever dream of confining his efforts to 75 or 80 per cent, of his ability ? He’d tell you, and sincerely believe it himself just as Pat Dengis did at one time with marathon racing, that it would “slow you down.” That is what he has been taught, yet how could he possibly know if he had never tried it for himself ? Why should it ? He couldn’t tell you that : all he knows is that every other sprinter trains and has trained the same way, and that therefore it is almost certainly right or the mistake would have been discovered long ago.

Now see what would happen if he did make the change. Right away he would find he could undergo something like 100 per cent, more training without taking any more risks. There’d be a greater number of runs each day with a corresponding increase in the demand made on muscles and sinews, and of course they’d respond to it. Besides, he’d be able to train every day of the week if he wanted to, taking perhaps only a partial rest on the day immediately before a competition.

Under no circumstances should he ever have a time trial; such a thing is a foolish squandering of the reserve of energy he has so carefully built up. Races should be the only time trials, and when these are two weeks—preferably three—apart he is likely to be really at his best. The distance runner would need a longer period still ; six weeks between events would be more suitable for a marathon man.

I have often wondered why athletics should be taught differently to all other sciences. It must be of course because it is so much

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less advanced, less understood. In no other science would the utmost effort be encouraged or even permitted except at infrequent intervals ; experience has long since taught us that no first-class job is done in this super-intensive fashion. The finest specialised work needs long practice over a considerable period, and to attempt to sustain top speed is recognised as utter folly. High pressure cannot be maintained for any length of time, a very certain proof that we were never meant to try.

We must wake up to the fact that athletics, like everything else, is not, nor ever can be, perfected ; there will always be more to learn. Hitherto we have been taught to believe that present-day methods were all that could be desired, but the sooner we question this and discover something in advance the better for all of us. Our trouble has always been the lack of teachers willing to spend the best part of their lives at the science : we have taken no trouble to encourage men to do so, but have left it to one in a million here and there to carry on as best he could. That is why athletics is so far behind other sciences with regard to knowledge.