‘Afoot, light-hearted, I take to the open road,
the long brown path before me leading
wherever I choose.’
WALT WHITMAN
Walt Whitman wrote those words in 1870, and no one has been able to improve on them as an expression of the freedom of running.
To you who are reading these words we say: Welcome! Enter the limitless world which the runner enjoys.
Whether you are new to running or have been at it for thirty years, there is always more to learn and more to experience. You will go to places you have never seen before. You will go to some places you will never wish to see again. You will meet all sorts of people and some of them will become your friends. Above all, you will learn more about yourself, and not only in a physical sense. Running can improve you physically and mentally. It can cure depression, improve your appetite and make your legs look better. It can also turn you into a self-obsessed prig – but if that makes you happy...
There is another aspect to running which cannot be found in any other sport, that of taking part in international events alongside the international runners. You cannot kick about on the Wembley turf or join in on the tail of the England innings at Lord’s, but you can run in the Great North Run, the London Marathon or the World Veterans Championships and be competing with Olympic champions. Sometimes you can even finish ahead of them!
It may seem egotistical to put this in at the beginning, but I think it will help to explain some of my references later on.
I have been running for well over fifty years and I have been an over-forty for thirty years. In my youth I was a good track runner – European champion at 5000m, AAA champion several times, British and European record-holder for ten years, in the days when two mile, three miles and six miles were standard distances. I ran a mile in under four minutes, two miles in eight minutes and 30 seconds, three miles in 13:12 and six miles in 27:23 secs (worth 28:23 for 10k).
I also ran cross-country for twenty years at all levels, from schoolboy to England international. I didn’t run many road races, but I did run five miles in twenty-three minutes, ten miles in forty-eight minutes and twenty miles in 101 minutes. In eleven years of serious competition I ran six hundred races, travelled everywhere and met most of the world’s leading runners and coaches – men such as Arthur Lydiard, Mihaly Igloi and Percy Cerutty, runners such as Emil Zatopek, Murray Halberg and Gordon Pirie. After I retired from the track I ran from Los Angeles to New York, covering the 3000 miles in sixty-five days and beating the previous record by eight days.
Most of my working life has been spent teaching biology and everywhere that I have taught – mainly in England, but also in Kenya and America – I have coached runners. When my school athletes left school I continued to coach the keener ones and that led me on to picking up and coaching a number of other athletes. In the last ten years I have coached nearly twenty international distance runners. Between them they have won national titles at every level – English schools, British Universities, National Junior and Senior cross-country titles, AAA championships on the track and on the road, at every distance from the 1500m to the marathon, and competed in the Olympic, European and Commonwealth Games as well as the World Track and Field and the World Cross-Country championships.
Of all those athletes, Richard Nerurkar stands out, for I learned at least as much from him as he learned from me. I started advising Richard in 1987, when he was leaving Oxford and going to Harvard. In 1989 he moved to Marlborough and took up a part-time teaching job at the boarding school of that name, where I had been teaching for fifteen years. This was the beginning of an unforgettable ten-year period in which Richard became Britain’s leading long-distance runner. He became national champion at 10000m and later at the marathon. He won the national cross-country title three times, and led the British team to a medal in the World Championships. He finished fifth in the 1996 Olympic marathon and in 1993 he became the first British marathon runner to win a major title for nineteen years, when he won the World Cup marathon in San Sebastian.
To achieve these goals Richard put everything into his running, going up to 140 miles a week. Every winter we went to Kenya for altitude training and in most summers we went to Font Romeu in the Pyrenees for more altitude training. We also trained in Albuquerque, Boulder, and St. Moritz (all high altitude venues), in Florida, Finland, Greece, Italy, Japan, Mexico, Sweden and South Africa, either for the altitude benefits or for heat acclimatisation (yes, it’s a tough life!). In those training camps we met most of the world’s leading distance coaches and their athletes, and found out as much as possible about their methods. We talked to experts in nutrition, exercise physiology, weight training and sports psychology. We tried to learn about everything which was relevant to our purpose – how to develop Richard’s potential as far as possible without using drugs or getting him injured. Although an injury eventually forced him to retire at the age of thirty-six, a few months short of competing in his third Olympics, I take pride in the fact that he was able to compete successfully at international level every year for ten years, usually as British number one. His best performances, apart from the World Cup win, included a 2 hr 08:36 marathon, a half marathon in 61:06 and a 10000m in 27:40.0.
When I stopped competing at the highest level I started to write books about running and that too has been going on for more than thirty years. I started writing for Jogging magazine when it first came out in 1978, stayed with it when it got fitter and became Running magazine and stayed again when it was taken over by Runner’s World. This has brought me into contact with a world of running quite different from the elite world I already knew, but the principles of training remain exactly the same.
I started running fifty years ago, mainly to get my figure back after our son was born. I trained with our friend Mary Rand, the Olympic long jump champion of 1964, who had had a baby a few weeks earlier, and joined her athletic club, London Olympiades. The first part of my career lasted only five years; I competed for my club at track and cross-country, won a national title for race-walking and got down to 4 mins 40-something for the 1500m. The high point of that part of my career was finishing 7th in the National cross-country in 1964. After our twins were born in 1970 I didn’t start running again, apart from the occasional jog, until they were sixteen. However, having a strong interest in sport, I have always been involved with Bruce’s coaching, holding the watch, getting to know the athletes, helping out in training camps. When we were working with Richard I took a sports massage course, so that he could get massage regularly after races or hard training sessions.
I was well into my forties when I got back to running regularly and almost immediately I ran into a problem. The more I ran, the more tired I got, so even-tually I went to the doctor and was found to be seriously anaemic. A few weeks on a course of iron tablets had a transforming effect. The feeling of tiredness disappeared and the speed of my running increased enormously; it is a lesson I have never forgotten.
The next thing which gave my running a boost was the arrival in Marlborough of Richard Nerurkar. He would often do a run of ten miles or more in the mornings, when Bruce was teaching, and I used to go with him on my mountain bike, carrying spare clothing and a drink. Trying to keep up with him on hilly downland runs was totally exhausting, but it had a terrific effect on my fitness! I was adding two or three hours of strenuous cycling to my normal twenty miles a week of running, and as a result my times improved dramatically. My time for 10k came down with a jump from 48 minutes to 44 minutes.
The next thing was that we started going regularly to altitude training camps with Richard, and there was plenty of time for running – in fact, in those remote places, there is not much else to do! I learnt that, given time, I could handle much more running than I had thought possible, even at fifty. Whereas I might be running twenty miles a week at home, maybe thirty in a hard week, I was able to cope with fifty miles a week in a training camp. I found running at altitude very hard work, but when I came down, the effects were remarkable. Running a ten-mile race shortly after our return from Kenya, I improved my PB from 71 minutes to 68 minutes, at the age of 53. Whereas my first attempt at the marathon had resulted in a struggling 4 hr 45 at the age of 46, I improved to 3 hr 25 in my mid-fifties, and ran a half marathon in 90 minutes when I was 57. The only thing I regret was never quite breaking 40 minutes for 10k.
At each phase of life, different things take priority. When we were both heavily involved with coaching I was able to run a lot. Now we are older and not travelling to training camps, running is lower on the agenda. Golf, gardening and grandchildren take up more time — but I know what it is to be a runner.
We coach athletes by their ability, not by their age or sex. If a person wants to run a two-and a half hour marathon it is going to require at least seventy miles of running a week, maybe more. However, there are great differences in the approach to running taken by someone of forty as against someone of twenty. If the twenty-year-old is ambitious, he or she1 will be aiming at County and National levels of competition. The young runner will be aiming for continuous improvement and increasing amounts of training, to match the higher standards. The over-forty runner is also aiming to get fit and run fast and he may even wish to go on to veteran international events, but our goal is to reach a plateau of fitness and then stay there for as as long as possible.
The other reason is one of safety. The twenty-year-old can get away with things. He can neglect her warm-down, miss a few days training, eat badly and still rise to the occasion.
The forty-year-old needs to be more thorough in warming-up and warming-down. On the other hand, the older runner has more mental endurance and often more physical endurance as well. He can cope with greater training mileages than the twenty-year-old. When Orde Wingate was picking his men, the Chindits, to fight in the Burmese jungle, he would take no one under thirty, because in his view they lacked the necessary stamina. Older runners may be slower, but they are tougher.
Apologies are due to those who have already been running for twenty-five years. Parts of this book will seem blindingly obvious, so please skip them. Remember that some of our readers will not know the first thing about running and will also know very little about how their bodies work.
1 We are not going to write ‘he or she’ all the way through the book and we are not going to demean the runner by referring to him or her as ‘it’. From now on ‘he’ can be taken to mean ‘he or she’ and ‘she’ can be taken to mean ‘she or he’.