Untamed Runner

Before diving into the history of the 5000M and 5K, I note that the two are distinguished from each other: the 5000M is the track version of the distance and the 5K is the road/cross-country version. To attempt to keep my posts from being cluttered, when I’m referring to the 5000M or 5K, I will use 5K unless the distinction is needed for clarity.

In some ways, it’s baffling that the distance lives in the shadows of the popular race conscience, at least among the American population. I assume it forms a significant part of many distance runners’ formative mileage if they run cross-country in high school. It’s the most popular distance in the US for all ages and there is no shortage of holiday-themed 5Ks out there. In theory, it’s a race length people can relate to.

The 5K’s roots go at least all the way back to the ancient Olympics with an event called the dolichos. This was a race that was believed to have been around three miles, though in some cases it may have been longer. In looking for information about the dolichos, I found this article on the history of it. Instead writing a new article, I’m happy to link to one that does an excellent job of outlining this event, while also linking it to our modern understanding and view of the race.

Despite its ancient roots, the first true 5000M in the Olympic games was held in 1912 for men. The Olympics added it to the women’s events in 1996. It was part of the first World Championships for men in 1983 and was added to the women’s program in 1995. (Prior to these years for the women, they ran the 3000M. Interestingly, U.S. high school women were running the 5K as part of cross country at least as far back as 1979, long before the Olympics and World Championships made their changes.)

Suffice to say that a rough version of the distance has been around for a very long time and it forms a common and strong piece of our modern running world among professionals, intense amateurs, and recreational runners.

For the next post, I’ll list four all-time great 5000M races with a brief description of why they belong on that pedestal.

Sources used:

5000 metres – Wikipedia

Before the Marathon, Greeks Ran Track | Runner’s World (runnersworld.com)

Dolichos (race) – Wikipedia

Foot Locker Cross Country (footlockercc.com)

Race Distances for Running Events | RaceRaves

The tagline of the Untamed Runner advertises “Running anecdotes, running food reviews, some race coverage, and more.” That is what the site has featured for nearly six years and in a broad way, it will continue in that way. However, a couple of changes are coming and here is an overview.

Some of my older content is archived. Specifically, I’ve created an archive page for my race recap posts. The original posts are copied in their entirety onto a single page titled Archive, along with their headlines and date stamps. They were removed from the regular feed and the Archive can be accessed from the menu on the front page. In addition, I have several older posts related to running food/nutrition reviews. As these also are listed on the Running Pantry Page, I removed them from the current feed, as well. The goal is to streamline my post listings and make them more easily searched.

My next handful posts will focus on the history of the 5000M and 5K, as well as looks at current races and rankings for them. I find the distance fascinating and while it’s a well-known race and the most popular one for people to run or participate in, it also exists on the periphery of popular running knowledge.

From my own experience, the 5000M/5K is difficult, so much so that I’ve dabbled with the idea of not doing it any longer. Yet, I also love it and keep going back to it. It’s a “fun” course length: long enough to require some strategy but short enough that it’s possible do them in weekly succession if I so choose. I also suspect that since it was my formative racing distance, it’s deeply embedded in my running DNA. For novice runners, it’s a solid distance to do when they’re starting out.

In short, it provides many opportunities to all levels of runners, it exists as a staple distance at the professional level, and there have been some legendary performances in it. Much more to come on the 5000M/5K…

I’ve written a few posts on warm weather running but it’s been a few years since I’ve done a dedicated one to winter running. It’s already February but in our area, March is historically our snowiest month and we’ve had a snowstorm in early May. In other words, this post isn’t completely out of season yet. There are a few things (these are in addition to common sense cold weather preparations like weather-appropriate clothes, hat, gloves, etc.) that I’ll mention .

1. A waterproof jacket, even a shell I can wear on top of a warm layer, is very helpful, especially when it’s snowing.

2. If I’m going for a longer run, I find carrying an extra hat is useful. I did nine miles in a rain/snow mix the other day and when my first hat got soaked, it was very pleasant to reach into my pocket to pull out the second dry and warm one that I’d shoved in before I left.

3. Be careful with your footing. Slipping on ice or packed snow carries no warning. You could have been careful for 4.99 of your 5 miles and wipe out on the final stretch. Or, you could hit a frozen lump of ice and twist an ankle. YakTrax are a great option if you want a device that helps with grip. Even with those, minding your footing is still important as they don’t make you invincible in either circumstance.

As I’ve mentioned in multiple posts, winter running can be done, it just takes a little preparation and the right gear

An additional item about running in London that intrigues me is the distance measurements and times.

When I travel within the U.S. and go to sea level, the difference is noticeable and I feel better and run faster. London is at sea level but while I was there, I didn’t notice the benefit from the oxygen boost that I normally get when I’m at lower elevation. There are multiple possible reasons for this including jet lag, more travel stress, etc. And yet while I felt fine, my pace and time as shown by my watch did not reflect the sea-level advantage.

I would’ve chalked it up to the aforementioned factors and not given it any further thought until I remembered something else. A couple of years ago I ran the virtual London Marathon. Part of doing this included using their app on my phone to track my distance and time for their official statistics. In addition to starting the clock on their app when I toed the line that morning (aka the edge of my driveway) I also used my Garmin watch.

Oddly, the London App said I finished the 26.219 mile distance a short distance before my watch did (I did keep running that day to get the full marathon on my watch, too). I went back into my Garmin data from the marathon and specifically, there was a .574 mile difference between the two devices which comes to .0219 per mile.

In theory, all devices at all times were pulling their signal from a satellite. I’m a publisher and a writer, not a rocket scientist, but in my mind, a satellite is a satellite. After we returned from London a couple of weeks ago, I looked up whether I should have done something to calibrate the watch while I was overseas. According to Garmin, the answer was no. It reinforced my belief that a satellite is a satellite.

Still, it’s interesting that the two times I used “London satellites” I seemed to be getting shorted relative to my watch. As further evidence, based on my past experiences when running at sea level, if I applied the .0219 miles to my 30 minute runs when I was in London earlier this month, I get a distance that makes a lot more sense based on my current speeds.

I suspect that the real answer is that satellites are satellites and two things explain the strange data. The London Marathon App may not have been as robust as the Garmin and/or since it was wedged in my phone belt, maybe the readings got funky. When we were in London, I probably was running on top of jet lag and my speeds just weren’t there. Still, if I’m running overseas again, it will be interesting to see if the results are similar…

We travelled to London over the holidays this year and it’s interesting to note differences between your home and culture compared to where you’re visiting. For example, Heathrow airport is like most big airports in its setup except that you don’t see your flight’s gate assignment until an hour before the plane’s departure. Not a big deal, you just hang out in the main area of shops and restaurants until you get the assignment. The Coca-Cola they served us in restaurants came in a glass bottle, instead of out of a fountain.

I packed my running shoes for London and managed to log a few miles most days that we were there. Our hotel was near Hyde Park which, if you’re not familiar with it, is expansive and offers ample paved and gravel paths. I noticed two small yet distinct differences between running there versus running in the U.S. (Obviously this is a sample size of only several days.)

1. Most people there didn’t use flashlights or headlamps when running or walking in the park before sunrise. I pack a small flashlight when I travel and while it’s there for any situation where it could be useful, I also use it for running in the dark. Most of my running in London was in the pre-dawn hours and while there was ambient light from the city and all the paths were in good shape, I carried the light with me. I wouldn’t say it was necessary but it was definitely helpful, especially since the area was unfamiliar to me. As I saw other people in the park, I noticed that only a couple of them had lights. I don’t mind if others aren’t using lights but it was very different to see no one using them. And, continuing to run up on people that you can’t see until the last second can be a little startling. That being said, there were no “Whoas” or “Watch outs” so perhaps near-misses are just more expected.

2. Dogs were much better behaved. I’ve had unpleasant encounters with off-leash dogs on my local trails and thus I’m on guard when I see one. Many people had their dogs off-leash in Hyde Park and yet, it was a completely different vibe there. None of them were aggressive and many weren’t even barky. I don’t know if it’s a cultural difference, if there are different types of training, or if there are stiffer penalties for a poorly behaved off-leash dog. Whatever the case, it was a difference I enjoyed.

I did venture out to another park one day, Holland Park, which is a little west of Hyde Park. It’s not quite as big so it would be more difficult to do a longer run without repeating a lot of paths. But, it did involve a long up and downhill and there was a runner doing hill repeats on one side of it. It didn’t seem quite as geared for running as Hyde Park but including it in a longer run was worth it.

This wasn’t my first time running in London. I spent a semester there in college and logged many miles all over the city streets. Not too long after that, I went back and again, spent time running. I don’t know how much London is thought of as a “running city” but a lot of people are out there rolling off miles (or kilometers), and there are some wonderful places there for it.

When Shohei Otahni recently signed a 10-year, $700 million contract with the Los Angeles Dodgers, it was easily the biggest baseball contract in history and all sorts of interesting comparisons came up: his earnings compared to some other teams’ entire payrolls, his pay per minute, etc. What interested me the most was his per-game pay which is set to be $432,000 based on a 162-game season. This is particularly compelling for this coming year because due to an injury, he won’t be pitching for them. He can still bat and they’re planning to use him as a designated hitter, so he wouldn’t be playing any defensive time. Four at-bats per game is fairly standard in MLB so he would be making around $108,000 per at-bat.

The male and female winners of the London and Berlin Marathons make somewhere in the range of $45,000-50,000 for their first-place finish. The New York male and female winners earn $100,000. (Caveat–there can be various course record and time bonuses for them but for the sake of the math, we’ll go with the straight-up prize money.) Ohtani would only have to walk halfway from the dugout to the plate for the Berlin or London money, and just a few feet shy of the plate for the New York money.

Usain Bolt is the wealthiest track athlete on the planet, estimated to be worth $90 million. He burst onto the scene in 2008 so that’s 15 years to that sum. Ohtani will take just over one to reach that same level. In 2016, Bolt earned $33 million, or just less than half of what Ohtani will earn in a full year.

Most of the rest of the top ten track and field athletes for net worth are male and female sprinters and none of them even come close to Bolt. Eliud Kipchoge is not in that top ten and with the most successful marathon career of all time, has an estimated net worth of $3 million, or less than five percent of one year of Ohtani’s salary.

I don’t think most people believe that professional running is a gateway to riches. And, obviously Ohtani’s contract is an example in the extreme, though Bolt’s earnings are also an anomaly relative to his sport. Some running pros can earn a living (a handful have a handsome net worth) and if you’re not a pro but still have good wheels, there are local races with smaller prize purses and other benefits. I would never discourage anyone from running because there’s no money. The running should be fun (even if there’s pain in the training) and oddly, I’ve never heard many runners talk about the comparison between what pro runners earn versus the four major sports. Maybe it’s a pointless conversation—running just won’t draw the same crowds to the stadiums like the others.

And yet, it remains a sport that many of us love. So, enjoy the run, savor the pride of accomplishment, enjoy the camaraderie of the running world.

We travelled to my in-laws’ in Ohio for Thanksgiving and there was a 5K, the Fall Classic, near their house that week. I hadn’t fully given up on the idea of going under 19:00 for a 5K this year and since we were going to be roughly 5,000 feet lower in elevation than normal, I decided to take full advantage of that for my last race of the season.

It was held in their local Metroparks and the course was billed as flat and fast. Rule of thumb is that you can pick up 30-45 seconds for a 5K when you go from elevation to sea level. I did a tune-up race two weeks ahead in early November and in that one, I posted a 19:27 on a course that ended up being 3.05 miles. When I projected that out to a full 3.1 miles, the time came to 19:46. Getting sub-19:00 was going to be very, very close.

Some race courses, like the one I did for the tune-up, are not USATF certified and thus can be a little short. If a course is USATF certified, it means that it’s at least the race distance, and possibly a bit longer. Even if the shortest possible distance is a true 3.1 miles, the odds of any runner hitting that is slim as you need to run the tangents and curves with perfection. Not an easy task. And, I’ve heard that some courses will err on the side of being just a teeny bit long so that they can earn and keep the certification. To put it plainly, it’s very rare to hit 3.1 exactly.

As we lined up for the Fall Classic, the Race Director confirmed that the course was indeed USATF certified. This was good because if I went sub-19:00, there was no way the course would be short. The question was whether it would turn out to be 3.1 plus just a tiny bit, or longer. The further it went over 3.1, the more my chances dropped for getting the sub-19:00 on my net time.

Like most races, this one took significant effort and I was maxing out relative to the course length. However, while racing at sea level hurts at a level commensurate with racing at elevation there are two differences. One is hard to pin down but suffice to say that I can tell I’m getting more oxygen. The second, obviously, is that I’m running faster which helps mentally.

I crossed the line with 3.16 miles on my watch and a time of 19:16. A few moments after I hit the “Stop” button, my watch flashed “Fastest 5K, 18:55.” This meant that for the true 5K distance or 3.1 miles, I had gone sub-19:00. Gratifying, bittersweet, and the way racing sometimes goes. To brag a little, my mile splits were 6:06/6:08/6:08 which I was very pleased with from a consistency standpoint. That would be a breakdown I could hope for on the track, where you have constant markers and it’s flat. On the road, it’s more challenging.
A good end to the season? Combining the solid time, the even splits, and an age group place, I’ll take it.

Two quick plugs. If you’re in the Cleveland area and looking for a good spot to run, the Metroparks I’ve been in, which are known as part of the “Emerald Necklace,” are excellent for running. Also, the Fall Classic was well worth it. The fee was fairly standard but you got a quarter-zip pullover, a good chili buffet and finishing area at the end of the race, and most importantly, a closed road course—no negotiating other pedestrians, cyclists, etc. Normally that level of service would mean a much higher fee but not so there.

Following the new world records at Berlin and Chicago, the partial credit of these new times and all the other recent world records to super-shoes was expected and now, the debate over their merits and downsides has experienced some persistence in the media. Some of the discussion is still around whether they offer too much of an advantage. However, two other interesting items have surfaced in the past several weeks. It’s possible these points have been circulating for a long time in some circles but I don’t recall seeing them in more popular media.

It’s not known how the shoes affect individual people—some may benefit more than others and some not at all—but now the question has been raised on how it affects biomechanics. While having better return may allow runners to recover more quickly from a fast mid or long distance run and thus be better prepared to launch into their next workout, the question here is about long-term impact. Given that these shoes are relatively new to the market, it may be that we won’t have an answer to this for some time.

The second item that has gained traction is the shoes’ longevity. General rule of thumb for a well-made running shoe (one that you would find in the $140-160 price range at a running store) is that they will last 400-500 miles. I had assumed the carbon-plated shoes would have a similar lifespan. And, given that they’re not designed for everyday running but for speed and racing, you could stretch them out for quite some time if they’re supplementing your regular shoes.

Apparently this may not be true. Speculation now runs that the Nike Vapor or Alphafly may last 250 miles and that the Adidas Adizero Adios Pro Evo 1 could be closer to 50-100. This means that your standard model shoe is about 30 cents per mile, the Nikes at $225 would be around 90 cents per mile, and the Adidas at $500 could be $5-10 per mile. That’s a lot of extra money per mile.

This isn’t a unique thing in sports. NASCAR drivers may go through 12 sets of tires in a single race. Major league hitters will break multiple bats in a season, sometimes in a single game. These are not inexpensive. In other words, while equipment isn’t considered more expendable at that level, with the pressure that athletes put on it and their need to perform at a high level, extra cost that most people would find exorbitant is part of the game. On top of this, the professional runners aren’t buying their own shoes so the cost is somewhat irrelevant for them. Still, there’s a lot more at stake in terms of livelihood at some of these levels of competition.

What does it mean for the average runner? Unless money is no object, the shoes are a big investment. Right before this new wave of discussion started coming out, I was tempted to get a pair of carbon-plated shoes. Now, with the unknown biomechanical impacts and the absurdly short lifespans, I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong, knocking 4% off of my 5K time is tempting. Yet, I still wouldn’t be close to my all-time best and so going any faster is sheerly for ego. I can only speculate about decision points for other runners. If you were a 2:22 male marathon runner in standard shoes and had a lifetime goal of making the Olympic trials, wearing carbon plated shoes would drop you to somewhere between 2:16 and 2:17, or roughly 60-90 seconds off the qualifying standard. Maybe $225-$500 is worth that dream.
In the meantime, while all of the newest iterations of these shoes conform to the rules and these records will stand, the debate and discussion continues.

This title is not the name of a new Metallica/Phish mashup collaboration. It’s a post-race phenomenon I’ve experienced and it’s the best phonetic resemblance I’ve come up with. The general rule of thumb of race recovery is that you need one day per mile. Thus, you need three days for a 5K, six for a 10K, etc. It’s why 100 meter runners can do multiple races in one day, for example.

Regardless of what the math is, the day after a race, I can tell I’ve put my body through a significant amount of exertion. However, while I feel the aftereffects, not only do I like running the day after a race, I almost feel compelled to do so. If for no other reason, it allows me to release the “nyech.”

What’s the nyech? I don’t really know. It’s not an overaccumulation of fast food or sugar residue in the system, nor is it something that results from having been sedentary. In a way it’s the opposite. Following the day or two leading up to a race, the warm-up, and the then race itself, where I’ve been maxing out my body over a decent distance by sweating profusely and burning plenty of calories and whatever else my body needs, I’m likely pretty depleted. And yet, when I run the day after a race, I feel like I’m releasing something. Maybe it’s scar tissue from the effort, both physical and mental. Or maybe I’ve unleashed some parts of my muscles during the race that I don’t normally use and it’s settling them back into a normal function. Or, maybe there’s some strange overaccumulation of adrenaline and endorphins. Maybe it’s a combination of all of these things. I don’t know if running the day after a race would work for everyone but whatever the nyech is, running as part of the recovery process allows my body to release it and I start to feel like my standard running self again.

Following a 5K recently, I lamented to a friend of mine the struggle from the one-mile mark through two and part of the third miles. This is never an easy stretch of the race but the difference this time was the fall-off in speed. It had happened a few times during this past summer and there were various explanations: heat, elevation gain, etc. But, I didn’t like the pattern. I was comfortable opening at a 6:15/6:20 per mile pace, which would put me in the 19:30s. When I say “comfortable” it wasn’t where I was on the edge of a pace I wasn’t sure I could hold but felt okay. I felt like the pace was a reasonable one I could stick with, if not push harder. However, even though I didn’t feel like my effort was lagging, my pace would drop off.

My friend referenced a workout to help with sustaining pace through the middle part of the race. It’s a total of six miles, starting and finishing with a one-mile warm-up and cool-down. The middle four are going three miles at 10K pace, followed by a fourth mile at whatever pace you can handle. The description sounded rough. But I was curious and wanted to see if I could improve on the middle section of my 5Ks so I gave it a go.

The first outing was terrible. I knew from .1 miles in (that is point one, not a typo) that I would be in trouble, not because I felt bad that early but because I could just tell. For my first three miles, I’d aimed for 6:40 per mile pace, or 20:00, and came through at 19:59. At that point, I was spent and the fourth mile reflected that. It’s not worth mentioning my time for the fourth mile.

I was daunted, but not to the point of not trying it again. Technically I should have been going for 6:43 miles the first time so instead of a 6:40 per mile pace, I went for 6:45s for the first three miles, or a net time of 20:15, with a slight lean towards faster than that. This time I ended up coming through the three-mile mark in 19:50 and feeling fatigued, but I still managed a 6:37 final mile. The last quarter mile did feature a significant climb so taking that out, the time would have been fair amount faster, which was hopeful. I also probably pushed a little too hard on the first three, as part of the goal is to run a hard fourth mile. Still, from a statistical standpoint, it was far superior to the first effort. I don’t know how to account for that, but I’ll take it.

My past speed work is usually something traditional, such as 800M or 1000M repeats which help train your body for faster leg turnover. Or, I do a threshold run to get my body acclimated to being uncomfortable over a longer period of time. This falls somewhere in the middle. New and tough, but definitely one where I’m pushing at uncomfortable intervals, which is the point of the workout. Mentally, it will certainly help on the next race.