When I started running, back in 1980, Salazar was near the peak of his greatness as a long-distance runner. In the spring of 1982, my senior year in high school, I was one of the only distance runners on our team. I was young and eager to improve.

After track practice some afternoons, I was known to run extra loops on the sidewalks around our school. The shot putters, driving away after practice to go get some pizza, would yell out, “way to go Salazar” or “do another lap for me, Salazar.” I puffed out my skinny frame with pride. Even jokingly, being compared to the great Salazar meant something to me.

Back then.

As I continued in my running journey, quickly graduating to marathons, Salazar was still very much in my orbit. He won the Duel in the Sun, the famed mano-a-mano battle with Dick Beardsley, at the Boston Marathon in 1982. A year later, I completed my first marathon.

In 1984, Salazar represented the USA at the Summer Olympics in Los Angeles. In his prime, he won New York. He won Boston. He was among the best in the world, willing to work harder than anyone else. A great role model for a young, aspiring runner like me.

Back then.

Although I still admired his tenacity, his willingness to push himself to the brink in races, some of the Salazar luster wore off. Like so many top level athletes, Salazar was edgy. He was brash. I felt he was arrogant, a trait I do not admire. So while I respected and emulated him as a runner, I was not a fan of his approach and his attitude.

Fast forward a few decades.

Salazar became an icon at Nike, the behemoth sports empire at the forefront of TrackTown USA (Eugene, Oregon), and USA running in general. He became a coach at the Nike Oregon Project.

Once again, he was the face of American running – this time in a similarly relentless quest to put American distance running back on the map, as it was when he was one of the best in the world in the 1970s and 1980s.

Ah, but once again, that Salazar brashness, the arrogance, the edginess, was never far from the surface. While he was a key figure in the resurgence of American distance running, the lurking shadow and whispers of untoward activities always dogged him, and his athletes.

Eventually, Salazar was permanently banned from the sport – first in 2019 because of doping practices with the Oregon Project, and then in 2021 due to sexual and emotional misconduct with female athletes he coached – including Mary Cain.

Mary Cain was a great runner, a prodigy who hit the world stage with success – while still in high school! More than a decade later, Mary Cain is still relevant. She is a brave young woman with a story to tell.

Her new book, a memoir entitled “This Is Not About Running,” was just recently released. It is a courageous story of a rollercoaster running journey. She talks openly about her mental health struggles, with disordered eating and the toxic state of the Oregon Project, led by the legendary Salazar.

This book is a compelling must-read. I listened to the audiobook, narrated by the author. Alert readers know that I am an avid consumer of audiobooks. With this title in particular, I highly recommend the audiobook format for this book.

Mary Cain’s voice trembles and cracks at times as she recounts some of her most horrific moments – a large number of them under the supposedly watchful eyes of Salazar. It’s a beautiful performance. And while the topic is so troubling, her presentation is so spellbinding that you won’t want to stop until you are done – I easily knocked it out over a recent two-day period.

The dark topics in this book could trigger anxiety, especially among young female runners who perhaps have struggled with these demons. It is still worth powering through, especially for women’s runners or parents/loved ones of young women runners in high school and college. The phrase “cautionary tale” only scratches the surface.

Kara Goucher’s 2023 book, “The Longest Race,’’ was part of the avalanche that exposed the dirty Nike Oregon Project empire. Salazar was the biggest name (and, arguably, the biggest culprit), but the whole system was broken, and Mary Cain absolutely was victimized on so many levels.

Sadly for her, this followed a pattern that started in her middle school and high school running days. I listened with shock, dismay and disbelief at her many stories. She tells them masterfully in vignettes; the book is broken into 139 “chapters” – all of which are really just short stories. She also writes the entire book in the present tense, not in the past tense. Taken in its entirety, this format packs a vivid punch.

This was an important book for me to read as well, a roadmap of all the things that we as coaches should NOT do, all the pitfalls on the road to success that some coaches might succumb to as we chase that next big meet or big race. In our three-season calendar, there’s ALWAYS a next big something.

But this isn’t about coaches, although those bad actors play a large role in her many calamitous moments in her younger life.

This is about Mary Cain, and her very important story. She had the courage and audacity to tell it, echoing the pain of countless young women who share her trauma but never had their story told or never had their story heard.

Cast aside any mixed reviews of this book; it’s likely just nitpicking. This is an important, groundbreaking book -- an enduring story that needs to be told. And, needs to be heard.

The officials wore every manner of foul weather gear, but to no avail. There was no way to stay dry on this April showers kind of a Saturday.

Welcome to spring track and field in the Northeast!

We’re at the long jump, at a local meet at Vassar College in Poughkeepsie. Jumpers are doing their best to stay dry and warm. They are failing on both counts.

The horizontal jumps in rainy weather can be annoying at best, dangerous at worst. Hurtling your body down a runway approach at close to full speed, planting your foot on a slippery board and then hurling your body in the air into a mealy/muddy sandpit … not the best way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Shepherding over this are two old men and a middle-aged woman.

Track officials.

One guy’s job is to determine if it is a fair jump. Another guy’s job is to mark where the jump is to be measured. The woman’s task is to make the measurement and bellow out the distance for all of us to hear.

After one particular jump that is deemed fair (not a foul), she bends over as the incessant rain beats down. Squinting through eyeglasses in desperate need of windshield wipers, she tentatively reads the measurement: “Five … point … four eight … meters.”

Wait. What? The coach of the athlete who just jumped starts to approach the official incredulously. I arch my eyebrows under my soaked winter hat … FIVE? Point 48? meters? Two coaches ask in unison. “Oh, oh, oh, my bad, FOUR … point … four eight meters. 4.48 meters.’’

Big difference! About 3.2 feet, to be exact.

We all get a laugh out of it.

I comment that track officials working in a cold, driving rain should get the equivalent of “shift differential” pay … you know, employees who work third shift (overnight) sometimes get a little extra pay as compensation for an unfavorable work schedule.

It was meant as a joke, but they took it seriously! Then, they started on the what-ifs of how much they should get paid on hot days, windy days, cold days … and everything in between. It’s a fair point, if hypothetical, which leads to another, far more important, point … if you care about the future of track and field:

There is a shortage of young, qualified, eager and competent track officials.

This is not ageism, but … the average track official, at least locally, is well past “normal” retirement age. My unscientific observation? The prototypical track official is a man between 70 and 80 years old.

I normally don’t turn to the vile message boards at letsrun.com for validation. But a few days ago, after there was a lap-counting snafu in the 25-lap women’s 10,000-meter run at a Division I conference championship, one of the vitriolic commenters posited that track officials are generally “75-year-old men who can’t remember what they had for breakfast.”

Yeah well. I did say those boards are vile, didn’t I?

Despite this online vitriol having to do with the inexcusable fact that some women ran 24 laps instead of 25 laps in a championship race … this “track officials thing” is a potentially intractable problem.

Track officiating is a multi-faceted job. And it pays quite poorly. And for many, it has the appeal of watching grass grow; or, more accurately, watching grass getting pulverized into divots by the discus, shot put or hammer.

Unlike other sport referees, track officials are required to master varying skills – almost like multiple sports under the umbrella (pun intended) of track and field.

Long jump and triple jump officiating is different from the high jump, which differs from the pole vault, which differs from the aforementioned throwing events. On the track, you need a head starter, an assistant starter, a clerk of the course, relay zone officials and myriad other jobs (yes, including lap counting). It’s not “just runners” out there.

Just like other sports, you only notice the officials when they screw up. They called a fair jump a foul. They miscounted the laps. They called a sector foul when the discus landed within the lines. The women’s hurdles were accidentally set on the men’s height. They held sprinters in the “set” position too long, leading to an unneccesary false start. On and on. It all matters.

Similarly, have you ever been at a track meet that just seems to drag on for hours and hours, with endless down time between races? That’s on the starter! The starter’s job is to expedite one race to the next, closely coordinating with the timing company.

There are a lot of moving parts.

Many of you reading this are simply road racers and may not be familiar with the nuances of track meets and track officiating. I get that. Just know that it matters, and that track officials can make or break the efficiency and proper running on a track meet.

If you enjoy track and field and you think you might be interested in officiating, contact your local group. And bring a friend! They’ll be thrilled to hear from you. Trust me when I say, we in the track world need you. A lot of you!

1:59:30

1:59:41

2:00:28

2:01:39

2:02:59

These numbers represent the top five times at Sunday’s London Marathon.

Look at those numbers again and allow me to repeat myself for emphasis.

These numbers represent the top five times at Sunday’s London Marathon!

This was not some overhyped science experiment (see also, the sub-2:00 project of the last decade). This was an actual race. Those are actual times.

The idea of a human being running a 26.2-mile marathon race, in a time faster than two hours, has been debated for decades. As in: No way. It’s not humanly possible.

The Great Eliud Kipchoge did, in fact, accomplish this previously incomprehensible feat in the staged event back in 2018, when he ran 1:59:40. Although it wasn’t “official” and he had plenty of help, he did in fact DO it.

On Sunday, two men did it! On the same day. In the same race!

And the third-place finisher’s time of 2:00:28 – now almost an afterthought – was considered inconceivable for, pretty much, EVER.

For historical context, consider this information that was posted on letsrun.com:

The depth up front was unprecedented. The race featured the first two men in history under 2:00, and was the first race in history with three men under 2:01 (a feat accomplished by only one runner before Sunday). It was also the first race ever with four men under 2:02 (previous record: one) and the first race ever with five men under 2:03 (previous record: three, set the previous Monday in Boston). In all, the top six all set all-time best marks for place.

Top 10 Results (Previous personal best in parentheses)
1 Sabastian Sawe (KEN) — 01:59:30 WR PB (02:02:05)
2 Yomif Kejelcha (ETH) — 01:59:41 PB (Debut)
3 Jacob Kiplimo (UGA) — 02:00:28 PB (02:02:23)
4 Amos Kipruto (KEN) — 02:01:39 PB (02:03:13)
5 Tamirat Tola (ETH) — 02:02:59 PB (02:03:39)
6 Deresa Geleta (ETH) — 02:03:23 PB (02:02:38)
7 Addisu Gobena (ETH) — 02:05:23
8 Geoffrey Kamworor (KEN) — 02:05:38
9 Peter Lynch (IRL) — 02:06:08 PB (02:09:36)
10 Mahamed Mahamed (GBR) — 02:06:14 PB (02:07:05)

These times almost seem made up. When I forwarded the original screenshot to some running friends and acquaintances, the almost exclusive reaction was one of skepticism – and not even in words! Emojis of hypodermic needles were the order of the day.

Yes, doping and performance enhancing drugs – a subject broached a few times on this Substack – were first and foremost in the minds of many. It should be noted that Sabastian Sawe, the winner, went out of his way to get repeatedly tested before this and other races.

But still, that shadow and the specter of cheating always will loom over such groundbreaking milestones.

You want more skepticism? How about the footwear!

From the letsrun.com article:

Four of the top five men’s finishers were wearing adidas shoes – specifically, the new Adizero Adios Pro Evo 3, which was used for the first time in a marathon in London.

These super shoes are super light!

Again, from the article:

Adidas has touted it as the brand’s fastest model ever – which is what every brand says when they release a new shoe. But there is something different about the Pro Evo 3: its weight. A men’s size 9 weighs just 97 grams – or 3.4 ounces. That is about 30% lighter than the Pro Evo 2, yet it still has plenty of foam, with a 39mm stack height (one millimeter under the legal limit of 40mm).

In other words? It’s like running on thickly padded feathers.

Like the Boston Marathon six days prior, the London Marathon enjoyed perfect racing conditions. Unlike Boston, whose point-to-point, downhill course disqualifies it from “counting” toward world-record or world-best lists, London’s course fits the criteria for records.

Skepticism and conspiracy theories aside, it is important to note how remarkably groundbreaking this one, single race fits into the long history of marathon running.

For those of us who have been around this sport for decades, the “holy grail” of the 2-hour marathon had been lurking out there as a fuzzy, inconceivable “thing” … and now, no matter what you think, it’s real and it happened. Twice in one day! And that’s pretty neat.

For today’s post, I asked Marist University colleague (and true badass runner) Kent Rinehart to take over with a race report from the Boston Marathon, his ninth time in a row at the fabled race.

His concluding sentence says it all: Sometimes, races aren’t all about running the quickest but enjoying the experience!

Anyway, I will step aside now and let you read about the Boston Marathon – in Kent’s words.

KENT RINEHART’S (BOSTON MARATHON) RACE REPORT

Reflecting on my ninth consecutive Boston Marathon, this race never gets old.

Joined by 30,000 runners at the starting line in Hopkinton on Marathon Monday, each of us carrying our own reasons, goals, and stories. For the Boston Marathon race director Dave McGillivary, he has run 57 straight Bostons, while more than 11,000 people were running their first Boston Marathon on Monday.

Getting out to Hopkinton, MA is a logistical challenge which requires a very early morning where most runners take a classic yellow school bus to the start. The nearly one-hour ride makes you realize how far Hopkinton is from downtown Boston. Upon arrival in Hopkinton, runners head to Athlete’s Village (located outside of the local middle and high school) where people are staged. The Village has a couple large tents and hundreds of porta potties (but it never feels like there are enough.)

Once your wave is called, you begin a nearly one-mile walk to the start.

As you enter the corral, if you time qualified, you have a camaraderie knowing everyone in your corral qualified with a similar time.

I decided this year to drop back to the last wave which is where all the charity runners are. I wanted to run with a friend of a friend who needed a pacer. Paul was running his first marathon. He told me he was hoping to break 4 hours. The camaraderie amongst the charity runners was clear. Nerves as many it was their first marathon but also they were all running for causes bigger than themselves by raising more than $15,000 each for their chosen charity.

Paul said he wanted to get to the half at 1:57-1:58ish to position him well for a sub 4-hour finish.

The weather was ideal. Temps in the mid-40s, tailwind and mostly cloudy skies.

The energy at the start was electric—equal parts excitement, nerves, and quiet determination. Months of training had led to this moment, and as the race began, everything suddenly felt very real.

From the opening miles, Paul and I settled into a steady rhythm. The first few miles are downhill and it is very easy to go out too fast. We were on our targeted 9:00 minute pace within the first two miles.

The crowds through Hopkinton and Ashland were already incredible, lifting our spirits while we focused on staying disciplined. By the time we reached Framingham and Natick, things felt smooth and consistent.

We approached the famed “Scream Tunnel” -- hundreds of Wellesley College women cheering for the runners. They are so loud, in fact, you can hear a dull roar in the distance when you are a half mile away from them.

Our effort paid off with a first-half split of 1:57:21, right on target and leaving us in a strong position for the second half. Running side by side with Paul made the miles pass more easily, and we fed off the energy of the spectators.

The race truly began after the halfway point, as we approached the Newton hills … four consecutive hills across miles 16-21. We stayed steady on the climbs, encouraging each other through the toughest stretches, including Heartbreak Hill. The crowd support here was unforgettable — people shouting encouragement, calling out bib numbers, calling out Paul and “Go Marist” (I was wearing a red Marist singlet) and pushing us forward when it mattered most.

Cresting the final hill brought a sense of relief, but the work wasn’t over. Fatigue had set in, yet we managed to hold our pace remarkably well.

As we made our way through Brookline, the leafy streets were scattered with runners who were cramping or walking as the course had taken its toll.

At mile 25, as we entered into Boston, the crowds had reached a crescendo. Near Fenway Park, the Red Sox game had let out and fans were 10 people deep cheering for the runners.

The famous “right on Hereford and left on Boylston Street” saying which indicates the final two turns of the course occurs at Mile 25.5.

The left on Boylston enters the runner into a nearly 1/3 mile slight downhill to the finish line. In my 45 marathons, this is the very best finish line I’ve ever experienced. The huge enthusiastic crowd noise reverberates off the tall building which line Boylston Street. Seeing the finish line ahead brought a mix of emotion and exhilaration. Trying to absorb every bit of the experience, as running Boston is never a guarantee.

Our second-half split of 1:54:09 reflected our consistency, a slightly faster negative split that we were both proud of.

Finish time of 3:54:30 was one of my slower Boston Marathons and was nearly 40 minutes slower than my qualifying time.

Sometimes, races aren’t all about running the quickest but enjoying the experience!

There is an entire industry devoted to recovery and modalities to aid in healing.

But there seems to be a bit of a blind spot on exactly how to recover from long races like the marathon.

Especially for races like the recently completed Boston Marathon, this is an extremely important topic for (running) longevity and injury prevention.

What makes Boston so unique? The amount of downhill pounding involved in the race.

While Boston is a net downhill course, it tends to trash the musculoskeletal system more than your standard big-city marathon. As a result, allowing for proper recovery time is extremely vital – right now, for those of you who proudly don your finisher’s medal.

A good friend (and reader of this Substack) has a standard, post-marathon rule of thumb: 10 days off from running. You’ll see in a moment the simple brilliance of this plan.

I’ve mentioned before the old-school “math” that was generally employed back in the 1970s and 1980s: One easy day or off day for every hard mile raced. For an arduous marathon like Boston, that means almost an entire month of chilling out before starting up another training cycle. That, too, will be validated at the bottom of this post.

Again, keeping with the old-school “math” … you should probably avoid any running during the acute soreness phase. Anyone reading this who ran Boston on Monday (or, if you similarly recall other hard marathon efforts) knows what I mean, especially when facing the otherwise routine task of walking up and down a flight of stairs. Ouch.

This acute phase lasts anywhere from a few days to a week. Anything exquisite discomfort lasting longer than that, and you may want to reconsider whether it’s an actual injury.

But even after you feel “normal” again – on stairs and otherwise in general – the subtle microtears from your hard effort remain embedded in your muscle fibers. Jumping back into the fray with hard runs or hard races too soon can lead to unwanted (and unnecessary) trouble.

These above paragraphs are my thoughts. I will end this post with hearty congratulations to all Boston finishers, friendly advice to take it easy for a while … and, of course, leaving the last words to Google AI:

Proper post-marathon recovery involves 3–7 days of no running, followed by 3–4 weeks of light, gradual training to avoid injury. Focus on immediate hydration, high-quality nutrition, and active recovery like walking. Delayed onset muscle soreness (DOMS) peaks around 3 days post-race, requiring rest, light movement, and at least 8 hours of sleep.

It is being written, in real time, not as a “scheduled” post, as most of them are (I write them in advance and schedule them to “go live” early the next morning). Note to my friendly “friend-editors” = this is a one-take post, so if there are typos or grammatical errors, that is my ready-made excuse this morning.

When I wake up BEFORE my alarm, as I did this morning, I know it is an obscenely early start to the day. Anyway …

Today is Boston Marathon Day! Marathon Monday in Massachusetts, Patriots’ Day, a statewide holiday in the commonwealth. The thousands of marathon runners who will be lining up in Hopkinton in a few hours quite possibly had some disrupted sleep, tossing and turning, fretting about what’s to come, the 26.2-mile journey from Hopkinton to Boston.

They have trained for months, through a tougher-than-normal winter. They have been dutifully checking the weather for more than a week, nervously watching the topsy-turvy patterns, trying to ascertain which race kit they should wear this morning.

Pre-race jitters are so common in our sport. All those port-o-potties you see at road races? They are there for many reasons, pre-race nerves being near the top.

So many other thoughts swirl through the head as a race like the Boston Marathon approaches:

—How many gels should I take? When should I take them?

—How often should I take in sports drinks and water?

—Did I do enough hills in training?

—Is my early pace going to be too fast?

—How much should I do for a warm-up jog?

—Should I even DO a warm-up jog?

These things are commonly referred to as “first world problems” — defined by Google this way: "First world problems" refer to minor, trivial inconveniences or frustrations experienced by individuals in affluent, developed nations, which appear insignificant when compared to the severe, life-threatening issues faced in developing areas. Common examples include slow internet, low phone battery, and long checkout lines.

On race days, though, these pre-race jitters can take on a larger-than-life proportion. Runners care about what they do, and they invest a lot of time and energy into it.

When you are around college athletes, as I am every day, the list of pre-race mind chatter is seemingly endless. Our job as coaches is to help our athletes navigate these mental minefields, guiding them to the correct decisions and proper mindsets.

If you are in the tiny subset of Boston Marathon runners today who are also subscribers to this Substack, here’s hoping that you are reading this post after a good night’s sleep. Or, even better: After having completed a successful and fulfilling race today.

No matter how it goes, remember that just getting to the starting line (and, eventually, the finish line) of a race like the Boston Marathon is cause for celebration. Let the race be one long linear homage to the joy of movement.

And? You’ll probably sleep really well when you get home tonight!

Spring weather is particularly volatile. As I type this, there is crazy midsummer heat raging outside – real feel of more than 90 degrees! Next week? The lows will be in the 20s. This matters. A lot.

Readers who are preparing to race the Boston Marathon next week are acutely aware of this topic. Once this mini-heat wave started earlier this week, you were likely checking the weather app on your phone, secretly saying a novena for a cold front in New England. It looks like your prayers will be answered.

The Boston Marathon, in particular, has been susceptible to extreme weather swings. One of the most famous Bostons – in 1982, dubbed the “Duel in the Sun” – was staged in intense heat similar to what we are currently feeling. Then there was the Boston about a decade ago, with hand- and bone-numbing cold rain and wind.

As a collegiate track program in the Northeast, we are forever susceptible to and preparing for all sorts of weather extremes. We use the term “chasing weather” when we travel far and wide (usually to the south) for warmer conditions. It doesn’t always work out. Three years ago, we sent a contingent down to Duke (North Carolina) in late April. It was cold and windy and rainy – worse conditions than back home in the Northeast!

Here at Marist, we are hosting our first-ever home track meet on Saturday. We are excited and nervous at the same time. Fortunately, the weather gods are smiling on us. As we have been setting up for the meet, we have been sweating through these scorching days. On Saturday, meet day, the temperature will moderate to the low 70s and it will be cloudy. Phew.

Double phew? The weather for the days AFTER the meet would have been differently challenging: Sunday will be cold and rainy (standard for Poughkeepsie in April) and Monday (Boston Marathon day) will just be downright cold. So, we slid through the sliver of a good window of weather.

For Boston marathoners, the biggest culprit would be the extreme heat. As we’ve written before, heat kills. So, the plummeting temperatures over the weekend and into Monday will be a welcome relief (for the marathon runners, anyway).

Best of luck to all spring marathon runners. May you have favorable conditions – cool temperatures, the wind at your back and a personal-best time on your watch.

A young adult runner, a proud Marist alum who is in medical school now, was asking for marathon training advice. He has committed to running the Philadelphia Marathon, which is more than half a year away (late November). His question:

“I wanted to pick your brain about Zone 2 training and its place, especially at the beginning of a marathon training block.”

I immediately tensed up; for an older coach, the phrase “Zone 2 training” immediately raises internal red flags and causes a momentary cringe reaction. There is nothing inherently “wrong” with Zone 2 training. In the context of this question, however, I believe it is misplaced.

Here’s why.

A quick check of this young man’s Strava indicates that he has completed one 30-mile training week in the past three months. Translation: He has a lot of work to do. Focusing on “Zone 2 training” is not entirely inaccurate, but it is also missing the point.

Quite simply? Dude needs to start running. A lot.

Yes, he has a history of injuries, so my advice to him did not involve a reckless increase of training volume (mileage). But it also does not involve the endless data streaming from his wrist (see also, my recent post on this topic).

When he persisted on asking about Zone 2 training, my response was this: “Focus on RPE now. Use zone training later.”

And then: “For now? Run easy mileage. If you feel an injury coming on, back off. Start with 5x run/week and graduate to 6x run/week. All easy running.”

RPE stands for “rate of perceived exertion” – which us old-school runners used to call “running on feel.” If it feels easy, if you can hold a conversation without gasping for air, and if it is comfortable, you are good. Do that enough, day after day, week after week, month after month, and then you are ready to START marathon training.

I’m not discounting zone training or heart-rate training. It has its place. But for someone starting from scratch (or close to it), I’ll go with another acronym: KISS – keep it simple (and silly). OK: It’s actually “keep it simple, stupid,” but I don’t LIKE that. Remember: This guy is in medical school!

Bottom line: He’s not a beginner. He knows what easy running looks and feels like. His heart-rate data should confirm that. If his HR seems a bit high but the runs feel easy, he just needs to keep running easy and the HR will start coming down. That’s called adaptation.

Am I oversimplifying this? Are there coaches who emphasize Zone 2 training out there who will refute my logic? Very possibly yes to both. But I do think there is some merit to a tech-light, simplistic approach to what we used to call old-fashioned “base” training.

I’ll check back with him in a few months. If he has remained injury-free and he has had a consistent build of mileage, he’ll be ready to start mixing up the HR zones in his training.

For now? The only “zone” he should be in is out the door, building a mileage base, keeping it simple and going back to basics.

This guy is pretty well-known in the mid-Hudson Valley running scene, mostly for the pure joy he exudes while running and racing. For many years, I’d see him running along busy roads in the Poughkeepsie area, going long and fast, invariably with a smile on his face.

Over the years, Marist athletes would return from a run over the Walkway Over the Hudson or the rail trails that connect the beautiful bridge, with the pronouncement: “Coach, we met a guy out there, and he was so HAPPY to see us! He said to say hello.” I knew immediately who they were talking about.

Over coffee, he surprised me with the news that he is “taking a break” from running right now. After racing at Disney World in early January, like so many of us he succumbed to the lack of motivation brought on by the recently completed (we hope!) brutal winter. Will he return, eventually, to running? I think he will.

But what if he does not? What happens when we become the title of the famous book: “Once A Runner” … then what? While we all aspire to keep moving and keep running, inevitably there will be a final finish line for us all – in running and in life.

I’m blessed to be acquainted with inspiring runners in their 60s and 70s who show no signs of either of those inevitable finish lines. But so many of the men and women who we knew back in the 1980s and 1990s are no longer running or no longer with us.

Although I am still running a few times a week, I feel like I’ve been stuck in that purgatory between former runner and current runner. I say that matter-of-factly, with neither resignation nor self-pity. I feel blessed and grateful to run a few early mornings each week with men who are my best friends. But my days of running 6-7 days per week, and my days of participating in running races, are over.

Where does that leave us? You can take the runner out of the running, but you can’t take the running out of the runner. Once a runner, always a runner.

Those miles and those races become a part of who we were -- and thus, integral to who we are. There’s a level of understanding about the sport that lifelong non-runners can never grasp. Runners and running are a special fraternity.

My cheerful coffee pal from last week reads this column; I don’t feel the need to use his name. I’m confident and hopeful that he’ll be back on the roads and rail trails, smiling and waving and eventually racing again.

If my friend never laces up a pair of running sneakers with the intention of going out there to log some mileage, he will forever be proudly tagged with the title of runner. He knows that in his heart. We all do.

1-Be present. Being there every day, or as close to that as possible, as much as life will allow. But also, giving as much undistracted attention to the athletes we coach, especially when in conversation. This is much more difficult in our Age of Distraction, but it is something we should all aspire to achieve every day. Some days are better than others.

2-Be observant. Kind of the same thing as #1 = look and listen for clues to how athletes are doing on a daily basis. Check in on them. Stuff like that. Again, some days are better than others.

3-Be caring but also detached. The “detached” part might sound negative – “what, coach, you don’t CARE about your athletes?” – but I do think it’s essential. And it’s a launching point for today’s discussion.

Our athletes are like a family. They love each other. They care for each other. They see each other every day. As I’ve said several times already in this post … some days are better than others.

But one thing they absolutely do every day – at practice, when I see them, and all the hours when they are away from the coach – is they TALK. This is absolutely refreshing. If they are talking, they are less likely to be distracted or on their phone. In talking with each other, sharing their thoughts and their emotions, they form lifelong bonds.

This is where the “detached’’ part comes in. Although I hear their conversations – usually snippets of them – it is not intended for me to be PART of the conversation (unless, of course, it is directed at me). Their lives are their lives. In most cases, my contributions to their conversations would be irrelevant and uninformed. Chiming in to what they are talking about with some Stupid Dad Joke might seem harmless, but it is usually met with an eye roll and a mind-your-own-business glance. So, most days, I just shut up and listen/not-listen.

But!!

Every once in a while, some of those “snippets” catch my ear, and on occasion they need to be addressed. And that’s what today’s post is about (finally, I know, me and my long-winded intros).

A few weeks ago, I overheard an athlete say: “Yeah, I got a good night’s sleep last night and I feel completely rested but my Sleep Score was pretty bad.”

A few days ago, I overheard an athlete say: “I figured out if I do this or that (I don’t recall the details), it will improve my HRV!”

Also, I’ve heard some version of this refrain: “After that track workout, my VO2Max score went WAY up!”

Holy 2026, Batman!

I didn’t hear this sort of chatter at practice 10, 20 or 30 years ago!

Look, I know that we all have devices, wearables that provide us with a ton of data – even me! My aging Garmin watch was purchased as a refurbished model online, more than six years ago, for less than 100 bucks. It gives me all I need to know: Time of day, length and pace of walks and runs, my heart rate, steps, even how many hours I sleep at night. Basic and functional, although it doesn’t hold a charge for too long.

The many subsequent models of Garmin and Apple watches provide runners with a lot more information, some of which was mentioned earlier. So do other wearables like Whoop and Oura. I’m aware of the technology and I’m not one of these old farts that say, “Arrrgh, throw away the damn watches and go by how you FEEL.”

Unless that old-school snarl is warranted. Which it is, at times. Which is the point of this post.

I’ve always been a big believer in heart-rate data. Well before wearables told us how many beats per minute our hearts were pumping, I instructed our athletes to keep track of their morning, resting HR. Knowing your HR allows you to train in certain “zones” and perform the run focusing on the appropriate energy systems.

Data is good!

It’s your relationship to the data that needs to be corrected at times.

Keep it simple.

Analyze the data and allow it to confirm or verify how you actually feel.

If there is a discrepancy between the data and how you feel, default to how you feel. Most of the time.

An exception? If your HR is consistently higher than normal – not one isolated run, but rather a pattern over numerous days or weeks – that could be a clue to adjust and adapt your training.

Otherwise? Use your data as a guide and keep track of trends. Don’t freak out about a one-off poor sleep score, one easy run where your HR was high, or a dip in your HRV (heart-rate variability) or VO2Max when you feel you are getting fitter and stronger.

One rule of thumb from me? The more complicated the data, the more likely the occurrence of an isolated bad or inaccurate reading. Don’t read too much into it. Look for trends in the data. But even then, don’t blindly trust your wearable. If something seems off or not right, consult a coach (if you have one) or a trusted source in your running community as a sounding board.

Again, I am not anti-data. Athletes that I coach know this, as I will occasionally quiz them on their HR numbers, especially on workout days. Data can be parsed and used as a tool for improvement. When data leads to unnecessary anxiety and stress, it’s time to reevaluate your relationship with your wearables.

The term “the devil is in the details” actually refers to NOT overlooking small things (like all the data points you get from your wearables) and how they can impact the larger, more important things. But in the context of this post, “the devil” could be your wearable and how you let it unnecessarily infiltrate your mind with negative thoughts.

Numbers are objective. How you react to them, and what you do with them, is ultimately what matters the most.

My mother is a devout Catholic and my children always got a kick out her phone calls (or voicemail messages) on Palm Sunday (today) because she holds the day (and the upcoming Holy Week) with such reverence. Most years, before everyone grew up and scattered (and before my mother moved into assisted living), we would be together a week later for Easter Sunday, so there was no reason for voice messages on Easter. But Palm Sunday? Always a call.

My Italian/Catholic heritage is integral to who I was and to who I am, and there were some unique traits to it:

—The aforementioned reverence toward Catholic traditions, rituals and holidays.

—The humongous and long-lasting Sunday meals, memories of which I still treasure.

—The stronger focus on “name days” rather than birthdays. In our culture, the Feast Day of the patron saint after which you were named (and you were ALWAYS named after a saint and/or likely some near or distant relative) was a bigger deal than your actual birthday. In my case, that day was/is June 29 (my actual birthday is August 31).

Anyway. This is a busy time of year with coaching and track travel, so my posts have been more scattered. Stay tuned for a future post (next week) on our over-reliance on smart watches, and other running-related topics to follow.

Thanks for reading and for following along!

Dutifully, I did as I was told, during a long track trip to Richmond over the weekend. It is, indeed, a “good, quick read” by an immensely popular and talented writer. And runner! I highly recommend.

Yes, the book is “about” running. But it is as much of a personal memoir of Murakami’s writing and running days during his “prime years” – his early 30s through his mid-50s.

It’s really neat how he weaves running and writing, as they are intertwined throughout the book and certainly during his career journey.

Murakami speaks about how writing and running provide him with internal validation. The acts of writing and running are the ends and not the means to an end – classic process over outcome, which is one of my favorite concepts.

When he first started writing novels – and the thought came to him came completely out of the blue, as he was lounging in the sun, watching a Japanese league baseball game – his stated goal was not positive reviews nor book sales. In fact, his first, hand-written manuscript was mailed to a publisher without his making a copy of it! Just the act of writing is what matters to him.

Of course, several decades later, Murakami is one of the world’s most famous, successful and lucrative authors. In the memoir, he credits running – which he started doing, shortly after his writing career blossomed -- for being a wellspring of writing ideas.

But make no mistake: This is a running book. Murakami talks about the ups and downs of his running training. He discussed his regular marathon habit – at least one per year for more than 20 years. And there are several “race reports” mixed in there as well.

Although the book was written about 20 years ago, and Murakami is still alive and writing, a recurring theme – especially toward the book’s conclusion – is the inevitable effects of aging on his running. He has some poignant moments. He talks about the “blessed right to grow old” and how “the honor of physical decline is waiting.”

One line that really stuck with me: “Learning something essential in life requires physical pain.” That came during one of his later race reports, when the effects of aging came into stark relief.

At times, Murakami became self-deprecating bordering on self-loathing, all the while insisting that no matter how slow he went, there would be NO WALKING (in fact, he wrote that he wants that on his tombstone!).

What does Murakami think about when he is thinking about running? A lot! He wrote a whole book about it!

You too, apparently, have a lot of thoughts and I appreciate your sharing them in the comments of the previous post. Please go back and check them, there’s some great stuff there.

The most surprising feedback on the post was from my (non-running) sister-in-law! She texted me: “It’s funny because when I’m on a walk I’m clearing the cobwebs in my head and I think about everything. It was an enjoyable read and it makes you think what do you think about doing anything.”

Thanks, Carol! And thanks to Dave and Paul for the idea for this topic, which is endlessly thought provoking!

Both men are avid readers of this column (greatly appreciated!) and when I see Paul he often feeds me great ideas for posts. With a little prodding, this run was no different.

In collaboration with Mr. Wise, their idea was this: What do we actually THINK about when we are running? Paul’s very simple answer was: Running!

Mr. Wise said that sometimes on solo runs, he will try to solve a complicated math problem like 256 x 73 (I don’t recall if those were the exact numbers, but you get the idea). That blew my (rather feeble) mind.

Trying to solve long multiplication or division in your head, without a calculator (obviously), requires a pretty heavy cognitive load. Try it. Chances are, if you are walking, you’ll have to stop in your tracks to make your brain work extra hard. Doing that while running? Challenging!

But then again, these guys are always up for a challenge; they are still running strong, in their mid-60s and mid-70s, respectively. And like so many non-solo runs, the conversation tends to be free flowing and varied.

Which makes their question even more interesting. What do we think about while running? I would say the answer to that, in a non-solo run (with one or more others), would depend on the topic of the on-the-run conversation. In other words, our own thoughts tend to be guided by the conversation in which we are engaged. Our regular weekday morning group prides itself on rarely talking about running, while running.

But on solo runs? What then! Math equations? Work issues? Family? Your next race? The list could become seemingly endless.

This much is true: Your brain works differently while running. An hour spent in vigorous forward moment, propelled only by your body, is processed far differently than 60 minutes of non-activity. Runners know this instinctively, and it is one of the many reasons they come back for more.

When running solo, generally your mind toggles between focusing on your body – how you feel in the moment, how fast/slow you are going, the steep hill coming up, the cadence of your steps and your breathing, the data emanating from your watch – and other free-ranging thoughts, almost like a state of daydreaming.

Focusing on just the physical aspects can be a mental grind. It’s what makes treadmill running so unbearable for many. It is when your mind wanders that the magic happens. Or, at the very least, your mind can be unleashed from its daily torpor to work through problems or questions, math or otherwise.

It has been years since I have regularly run by myself. These days for me, it’s either a group run or a solo walk, and those solitary ambles are accompanied by audiobooks. As a result, I cannot adequately speak on this topic, other than the on-the-road conversation -- between gulps of air on the hills – with Mr. Wise and Paul.

So, I am opening it up to you all. Please share with me in the comments, or email me at Peter.Colaizzo@marist.edu, or even text me at 845 309 3640, what’s on your mind while you are running.

Two closing thoughts:

1-Although I have yet to read it, there is an excellent book that I think broaches this topic: “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running,” by Haruki Murakami.

2-The title of this post was inspired and suggested by Mr. Wise -- while on the run. I knew I wouldn’t recall it, so he was smart enough to text it to me later in the day!

Look forward to hearing what you have to think (and say) about this.

Read more

This is the point where I should probably insert the usual, obligatory “back in the day” paragraph. Feel free to start rolling your eyes and mumbling the following things to your screen: Yes, Pete, we know. Back when you started running, none of these tools existed. Yes, Pete, we know, back when you started running, no one stretched before or after running (that’s actually not true, but it works for effect here, right?).

Anyway. There are myriad recovery tools – it’s an entire industry now!

I’m around college athletes – not just runners – all day. They spend a lot of time utilizing these recovery modalities: Massage guns, cupping, ice baths, contrast baths, Normatec boots. You name it, they’ve got it.

Now, for once on a topic like this, I won’t be cynical. I think the emphasis on recovery is great!

Perhaps the most ubiquitous of all recovery tools for runners is the trusty foam roller. You probably have one of these lightweight, portable torture chambers that are used to quell muscular soreness and tightness. Maybe you have a vibrating foam roller, too. If you own one, you probably swear it makes your legs feel better and recover faster, even if it hurts like heck while you are doing it.

This leads me to the provocative title from a recent Marathon Handbook email:

Is Foam Rolling Useless for Recovery? Here’s What the Data Actually Shows

A controlled study comparing vibrating foam rolling, regular foam rolling, and static stretching reveals what actually helps runners recover from muscle soreness—and what’s mostly just hype.

The article details a study in which participants were subjected to simulate hard, downhill running on a treadmill, with the desired/achieved goal of creating muscle soreness. Then, they were tasked to either: a. use a foam roller, b. use a vibrating foam roller or c. use simple, static stretching for recovery.

The differences in the effectiveness of all three were negligible. This could lead you to the headline conclusion: Useless!

My take on these recovery tools has been the same for years:

1-Make sure it doesn’t make you feel WORSE rather than better, even in the short-term.

2-If you feel that it helps you recover faster, then keep using it! The belief effect is powerful in this case (and, really, in all cases).

However, I absolutely LOVED one of the article’s concluding statements:

For training decisions, I’d treat rolling (vibration or not) as an optional comfort tool—fine if it helps you relax and keeps you consistent. But put your real recovery budget into things like sleep and diet (we know those work!)

Sleeping is absolutely the most effective – and low-tech and inexpensive! – recovery tool. And fueling properly – before, during (for longer endurance efforts) and afterwards – is also the most direct way to positively affect your recovery.

Again, this post is not intended for you to go ahead and ditch recovery tools that work for you. You don’t need to throw the foam roller into the bonfire pit (besides, that would be noxious environmentally!).

Just remember that your bed, your pantry and your refrigerator – places you visit every day – hold important recovery tools as well.

Pollan is an accomplished author – I highly recommend his book “How to Change Your Mind” on the history of psychedelics – and he makes complex topics accessible because of his relatable writing style.

You may be surprised to recall that, other than journalism, I studied philosophy in college back in the 1980s. I was drawn to the subject by an energic and fascinating Italian professor whose thick accent reminded me of my aging relatives in Yonkers and the Bronx. He would say things like: “What does it all mean? You know what it means? I tell you what it means. It is all boooolsheeet!” I was hooked!

So, a book on a philosophical topic by an author I truly admire was a natural way to spend the weekend.

I’m not going to recount Pollan’s journey through the history of consciousness study nor the many new fascinating academics who are researching it, other than to relate it to artificial intelligence. He spent a long and compelling chapter on AI and consciousness, parts of which I had to re-read to even partially comprehend.

He mentioned the concept of the “singularity,” which is the theoretical point in the future when AI will meet and eventually exceed human intelligence. Depending on who you are and where you stand on this topic, the singularity is either overwhelmingly exciting or exceedingly frightening.

Count me in the latter category.

On Monday morning, I was recounting my weekend reading journey with a student-athlete during our weekly meeting to discuss her training for the upcoming week. She blurted out, “oh, I don’t like AI.” Of course, I challenged her on this.

Specifically, I asked her: What if you Googled “what type of threshold workout should I do on Friday?” and it came back with a really good idea, better than the one I’m concocting for you? Oooh. She found that intriguing!

I probed more. I explained to her that if she fed enough information about herself and her running – all of it readily accessible to the greedy grip of the World Wide Web – AI could spit out a pretty spiffy training program. I didn’t ask her how she felt about THAT.

That’s the “exceedingly frightening” piece to the singularity.

AI. Machine Learning. Large language models. It’s a lot to fathom. It also opens a lot of doors for data-hungry runners, which is quite a large subset.

Have you heard of an app called Runna? I’m guessing some of you have. If not, look it up. It provides expert coaching for runners, and it is in part AI driven. I’ve heard positive reviews of it. I’m not here to bash it, nor to fire off dire warning flares about the dangers of using AI for running training – or anything else.

That’s the “overwhelmingly exciting” part of this.

Look. I’m no expert on this – or many – topics. But here’s my take.

Artificial intelligence is as good as the folks who are programming it and the information fed into its massive memory database. That’s a seemingly simplistic take. But when you fully comprehend the sheer volume of data that AI has the ability to parse, you realize the enormity of its possibilities – and the scope of its power.

Remember: AI lacks human qualities such as feelings, empathy, emotions, etc. That was one of Pollan’s points. But, the more it improves and grows, the closer it becomes to us, you know, humans.

So to get back to running – as, you know, this is a Substack about that topic! – can AI help you with your running? Absolutely yes! Can such apps as Runna make coaches like me obsolete? Possibly! Is that scary? You bet!

So go ahead and dive into it. Feel free to ask Google AI and ChatGPT and any other really smart search engine your running questions. I hope you find nuggets of wisdom in there that might lead you to a personal-best time.

But remember not to lose the human touch – not yet, anyway. Older runners with seemingly infinite stories – my friend Brian Baker comes to mind, but every running community has men and women like him – can provide you real-life and real-world insights that can help you too.

You can scroll your phone to coaching apps. You can surf through Strava looking for great workout ideas. But I contend there is still great value in human interaction that you can get from group runs or from listening to a knowledgeable coach or even reading up on the history of training methodologies.

Yes, AI can condense all this wisdom into a pithy paragraph in less than a second. But an hour’s run still takes 60 minutes. And the intelligence you can gain from that time on your feet is anything but artificial.

Here’s how it is described in the article:

Simply put, Jeffing is a technique that intersperses walk breaks with running bouts to help ward off fatigue and boost endurance. This type of cardio, or aerobic, workout goes by many different names in the running community — run-walk, run-walk-run, the Galloway method, and, of course, Jeffing.

The last two are nods to Olympian Jeff Galloway, who began using this method in 1973 while instructing a beginner running class at a university. (Galloway himself has no particular preference for which term is used. “I’m honored to be a verb,” he said.)

In terribly awful timing, as I was preparing the post, we just heard the sad news of the untimely passing of Galloway at the age of 80. We’ll proceed with the post, now in honor and in tribute to a truly great man in the annals of long-distance running.

I have long been a proponent of the run/walk method in covering daunting distances like the marathon. Surprisingly, I have been rebuffed with criticism by those to whom I was trying to advise: “No WAY, Pete. I’m not stopping. I’m running the whole way!”

Exasperated, I tried to calmly explain that they were missing the point. Walking is not STOPPING. The run/walk method does not include inertia. It is a surprisingly simple – and incredibly effective – way of extending your distance well farther than you thought you could go while feeling good doing it.

It’s important to note that Galloway is not some new-age hobby jogger. He was a big-time, serious runner in his early days, an Olympian who counted as training partners and friends such luminaries as Frank Shorter, Bill Rodgers, Amby Burfoot and numerous others from those glory days of the 1970s.

Galloway’s run/walk method has worked for hundreds of thousands of runners – most of them in the middle to back of the pack. He was the champion of the everyman/everywoman, making the gargantuan marathon distance attainable. He has a rabid, loyal following.

And, while it’s a cliché to say that “he will be missed,” the magnitude of his loss on the recreational running community is difficult to fathom and comprehend. Fortunately, his run/walk method is firmly entrenched. It’s here to stay. It has worked for tens of thousands of runners, maybe even millions, according to this announcement and remembrance posted on Facebook.

Sadly, we lost someone truly irreplaceable today. We are heartbroken to share the news of the passing of Jeff — a husband, a father, a grandfather, a coach, a mentor, and a believer in every single one of you.

Jeff spent his life proving that anyone could cross a finish line. He celebrated every mile, every walk break, and every finish. He coached millions, but found fulfillment in each of your stories of personal accomplishment.

Jeff had an almost supernatural ability to look at any person, any age, any fitness level… and see not what they were, but what they could become, in fitness and in life.

He was genuinely thrilled by every single accomplishment, whether you were crossing the finish line of your fastest marathon or nervously finishing your first mile. To Jeff, both were worthy of celebration because both required you to believe in yourself and take the risk of trying.

Jeff did not just make runners. He empowered people to believe in themselves.

He is survived by every person who ever crossed a finish line and thought, “I didn’t think I could do this”.

Run easy. Walk proud. And thank you, Jeff, for always believing in every one of us!

Long may he run!

As with many of these posts, the phases of my coaching life have an impact on my (writing) mindset. We just concluded an emotionally draining – and successful! -- weekend at our indoor conference championship meet. It capped a very long, equally emotionally draining – and equally successful! – indoor track season.

I am currently typing this on Monday in the midst of yet another mammoth snowstorm. That matters, too. We are in a mini reset period between seasons – we will resume track training for the outdoor season in a few days. Being hunkered down on a snow day allows for some reflection. A time to pause and reset.

Before continuing, credit must be given to my good friend Ken Schneider, who gave me the idea for this post while we were on a run last week. As with many conversations on the run, it was stream of consciousness and it may be difficult to replicate his exact point. But I will try to do that with this post.

We were discussing how “recovery” is an often overlooked topic in running. I countered with several posts in which I have addressed that issue – it’s also a hot-button topic with my athletes. But he wasn’t simply referring simply to running less or running easier. He meant – and I hope I’m getting this right, buddy – REALLY recovering. Really resetting. Unplugging. Unwinding. Tuning out. Turning off a constantly whirring mind.

This concept transcends running. It is something we all struggle with and all of us fail to achieve. Pause. Stop. Quiet. Just be. Yes, it sounds like a meditation teacher. But again, these are things we cannot do, for one very simple reason: That glass case that we have with us at all times, the one on which you are almost certainly reading this post.

You know. That glowing object that pings us, cajoles us to action, makes us worry about the weather, compels us to check our work emails during non-work hours (whatever THAT means these days), and allows us to mind-numbingly while away hours upon hours watching videos and consuming content in a steady stream of brain stimuli.

Surely, you’ve heard of dopamine, the chemical released by your brain when stimulated by much of what we do on our phones. I’m not going to say we’re “addicted” to dopamine, but we sure are attracted to its feel-good qualities – most of which are triggered with cell phone use.

The problem is this: That brain stimulation is akin to revving your car’s motor; it’s constant activity and noise, and it burns a lot of energy. Even if you are not physically active, the brain signals to your body are akin to physical activity. It can wear you out. It can cause stress. It can cause anxiety.

Running can help to alleviate that, for sure – a “healthy outlet” that we hear about all the time. But even running adds fuel to the fire. We post our runs on Strava, we post our race activities on social media, we check others’ runs and races on social media.

When do we rest our brains? When do we reset our thoughts? I don’t have any pithy advice here for you other than the obvious edict to “stay off your phones,” which we all like say and we all never do.

I guess the ‘advice’ would be to focus on recovery in all areas. The obvious one is the physical recovery – having “down” weeks, doing shorter, easier runs, taking a day off when needed. The less obvious is mental and emotional – dialing back your brain – which in turn will allow your body to rest a little as well.

Ken, buddy, I hope I got this right. For everyone else, I hope some of this makes sense. And remember? Shoveling and snow blowing counts as cross training!

One that I really like, and one that I repeat often, is: “Hills pay the bills.”

There are other variations about the importance of doing hills in running training. “Hills are speedwork in disguise.” “Hills build character.” Stuff like that.

No matter your mantra, hills are the subject of today’s post – thanks, as usual, to the excellent daily email newsletter Marathon Handbook. In this linked article, titled “The 5 Best Hill Sprint Workouts For Explosive Speed” and subtitled “Improve your power and speed with hill running,’’ the theme is the same: Hill sprints are important.

As a coach, I happen to agree with this. A lot. In fact, we have our athletes at Marist do 2-3x short hill sprints at least once per week after easier distance runs. There is a perfect uphill dirt path right on campus that we utilize (or, at least in the winter, the past tense “utilized” is more accurate because the dirt path has been covered with ice and snow).

This hill is perfect for many reasons: 1-It’s dirt/gravel, and thus a soft surface, which we cherish. 2-It’s short, and can be traversed in 10-15 seconds, which is the ideal duration for hill sprints, where shorter is better. 3-It’s convenient. Runners can do the hill sprints at the end of their distance-run loop, and then do a 5-minute jogging cooldown afterwards and be back inside.

So … why should you consider hill sprints? I’ll let the author of the article, Katelyn Tocci, who is a certified running coach, answer that:

Hill sprints are short bursts of an almost all-out effort running uphill, followed by rest. They are a combination of HIIT and strength training workouts, with some plyometrics worked in! Hill training is an excellent way to improve your strength, power, and overall speed.

She also lists four other bullet-point benefits, the most direct of which is this: “Prolonged endurance and time to fatigue.” If that doesn’t sound like the magic bullet, I don’t know what does!

A few of my thoughts on this:

--If your experience with hill running or speed work is limited to non-existent, proceed slowly and with caution.

--If you are already running on hills, this will be a natural addition.

--If you are already doing dedicated speed workouts, this will be a natural addition as well.

No matter which of these scenarios fits your description, this is a dynamic, eccentric workout and should be added into your training regimen in a deliberate manner. The author suggests it should be weaved into your training program once or twice per week.

With the proliferation of rail trails – most of which are pancake flat -- over the past several decades, hill running has sometimes been relegated to the realm of trails. Seeking out a short, steep hill for some quick hits may jumpstart your fitness.

Hills pay the bills!

Alex Ostberg’s “The Running Shoe Myth That Won’t Die” flips on its head all that I’ve ever believed about running shoe advice, and probably all that you’ve ever heard about the subject, too.

Not to oversimplify, but …

Here’s what I’ve always believed, concepts that have been reinforced in countless Runner’s World articles – not to mention trips to specialty running shoe stores.

--If you have a high-arched -- and thus rigid -- foot (I fall into this troubling minority), you should gravitate toward running shoes with lots and lots of cushioning.

--If you have a low-arched foot – far more common – you are likely a pronator and you need motion control or stability running shoes.

--If you are one of the lucky ones – with a neutral arch and not much pronation (inward roll of the foot) or supination (outward roll), then you can wear neutral shoes. And, in theory, you are far less likely to get injured.

This is the same advice I’ve doled out to generation after generation of college athletes, in an effort to keep them healthy and injury-free.

Speaking of injury. The whole model of the running shoe industry has been aimed at “correcting” foot abnormalities, addressing the uniqueness of your gait, and thus helping you avoid injuries.

Well, according to Ostberg’s article, that model is based on several flawed premises.

Really! Now what, then?

The solution, apparently, is so simple as to be comical. We’ll get to that in a few paragraphs. For now, here are some of Ostberg’s startling thoughts:

One large-scale review study of pooled data from over 11,000 runners across 12 randomized trials found no convincing evidence that matching shoe type to foot posture reduces injury risk.

Stability shoes did not meaningfully outperform neutral shoes. Motion control did not reliably prevent injury. And foot morphology (flat, neutral, or high-arched) failed to predict who would benefit from which shoe.

Despite decades of confident retail messaging, the assumption that footwear can fix a runner’s biomechanics and reduce injury simply hasn’t held up.

Holy COW!

You might as well tell me that flannel shirts are not effective (nor stylish!) at keeping you warm in the cold-weather months. This is blasphemy! What do we MAKE of this?

I’ve been pondering this post for more than a week. I’m finally getting around to completing it, because it is such a ground-shaking concept.

For many decades, this was an important topic to me. As a high-arched human being, my natural shock absorption is poor. The shock of each running stride – which, really, is just a series of jumps from one leg to another – is sent right up through my musculoskeletal chain. Back in the 1980s and 1990s, when I ran a lot, I had every running-related ailment you could name.

As a result, I searched and searched for the perfect running shoe. I made some bad choices. I remember one, specifically, that was a clear blunder. Etonic came out with a running shoe that purported to be “anti-supination” and would help correct the outward roll of the foot so common to high-arched supinators.

A ha! I found the shoe that would fix my problems!

As soon as I put them on, they felt awful. It was like I had strapped 2-by-4s to my feet. They were rigid, stiff, they made my feet hurt. While I didn’t get injured, running was Not Fun and my feet ached all the time. Suffice it to say, I only bought one pair of them.

After a while, I finally found a shoe that worked for me, and I ran with it (literally) for about 25 years. That was the Asics Cumulus. Then, after my first 24-hour ultra back in 2018, I was introduced to the magic high stack of the Hoka Bondi. I’ve never looked back. My feet feel great and I’m loyal to my Hokas.

You know what the magic formula is? It’s so simple, so smack-your-hand-on-your-forehead obvious that I’m embarrassed not to have figured it out 40 years ago.

If the running shoes feel comfortable when you put them on, they are the right shoes for you.

That’s it!

Again, from the article:

The best predictor of injury risk isn’t motion control, midsole hardness, or heel-to-toe drop. It’s comfort.

Rather than relying on biomechanical screenings or rigid prescriptions, research increasingly suggests that runners do best when they choose a shoe that feels most comfortable.

Comfort likely reflects the integration of multiple variables into a single meaningful signal. When a shoe “feels right,” it allows the runner to move in a way that aligns with their natural patterns instead of fighting them.

A 2025 study found that runners who reported higher perceived comfort and ideal cushioning had significantly lower injury rates over six months. Comfort was the strongest predictor of remaining injury-free.

Now, before my friends down at Fleet Feet Poughkeepsie print this post out and toss it in the trash, let me add one more thought: Getting expert advice from running specialty stores is still a good idea!

Even if Ostberg’s article disputes the effectiveness of their biomechanical analyses, stores like Fleet Feet have helped thousands of runners and they know how to match you with the proper shoe.

So, when they bring out box after box for you to try on, remember that the best guidance is simply how they feel. Take them out for a test run in the parking lot. If they feel good on your feet, you’ve got a match.

Sometimes, the dumbest clichés make the most sense: If the shoe fits, wear it!