Article Response: Chuck Klosterman on the Limits of Human Speed

Original Article: Is the Fastest Human Ever Already Alive? (Grantland.com)

In his Grantland.com article, Chuck Klosterman[i] didn't take an opinion one way or the other, but an idea purported is that there are limits to human speed, and the fastest a man can possibly run 100 meters is 9.44 seconds. That’s it, no faster. I think that's a load of bull because it fails to acknowledge two propelling forces that will enable people to continue exceeding standards set by their predecessors: increasing global mean standard of living and the continuing evolution of our species. 

Standard of Living
If you know 19th c. British literature, then you know Oliver Twist; and if you know 21st c. network TV melodrama, then you might know J.D. McCoy. These two fictional characters have almost nothing in common, and that's exactly my point. Oliver Twist is the iconic street urchin of pre-Industrial Revolution England. He subsisted on a regiment of gruel and emotional neglect. His life may not have been the 'typical' life of a child in that time or place, but he certainly wasn't an outlier either. Conversely, if you haven't seen Friday Night Lights[ii], J.D. McCoy is the uber-coached, uber-put-upon son of a dad trying to live out his Joe Montana-dreams vicariously through his moody, hormonal son. There's lots of ways to benefit from the luxuries of the American middle class lifestyle-Joe McCoy (J.D.'s father) just chooses to do it by making his son run stadium stairs until the boy developed something Oedipal[iii]. The kid turned out to be a helluva QB, though.

Now, imagine putting Oliver Twist and J.D. McCoy on the same high school track team today. Poor Oliver's feeble, malnourished musculoskeletal system wouldn't even be able to cover 100 meters before J.D. McCoy crossed the finish line, drank a MetRX protein shake, and tweeted about how much he hates his dad. I have no evidence to indicate the genetics of these two characters differ in any appreciable way, I just mean to demonstrate this: the world today is richer, allowing us to focus on more frivolous pursuits such as running from one point to another with no obvious or productive purpose[iv]. J.D. McCoy didn't have to endure the hardships of life as a street-urchin. Instead, he spent his summers at passing camp and playing Madden. 

Meaning: with the same 'equipment', our world today can achieve better physical achievements on average than in the past[v]. It's a safer bet to assume this progress will continue than not. 

Evolution and Genetics

As a species, we will continue to evolve and accumulate better genetics for athletic pursuits, and we have the incestuous hook-up culture of individual sports tours to thank.

Though they swear they won't force their kids into playing tennis, would you ever bet against the Steffi Graf-Andre Agassi children in a junior mixed-doubles match against Jaden and Willow Smith? No, of course not. Even if the spawn of Graf/Agassi have never seen a Tennis court in their lives, the instant they pick up a racket would be like Harry Potter gripping a magic wand for the first time[vi]. These kids may not be guaranteed tennis deity, but they have a better chance than your kids. 

And with the closed social networks and high school social politics of international, dual-gender tours of international sports (tennis, track and field, swimming), it's only natural that more of these world-class athletes concede to the inevitable and produce super-mutant-freak-athletic babies bound to dominate the sporting world in ways we haven't seen. Andre Agassi/Steffi Graf, Ryan Hall/Sara Hall, I'll even throw in Maria Sharapova and Sasha Vujacic

[vii]. 

None of these children will be surefire record-beaters, but they will increase the probabilities of a super-Usain Bolt being created. And this effect of mutual attraction of high caliber athletes will trickle down to lower levels with the aforementioned proliferation of recreational sports. The more our relative global affluence allows one to do ridiculous things with one’s free time like run marathons, the better one can identify those with superior genes in these sports; and the better one can identify a genetic peer in the opposite sex, the more one will be compelled to jump their bones[viii]. For example, it was obvious from the very beginning that the “Saved By The Bell” wedding would be Zach and Kelly instead of Slater and Jessie

[ix]. Opposites attracting is B.S.

Other examples of mutual attraction of athletic attributes:

• A very fast-running woman who I work out with sometimes is married to a very fleet-footed man whom she met in college, and whom also ran collegiate track . She described her initial attraction to him as noticing his ‘cute legs’. What other type of person would think this, let alone be attracted to a male’s lower appendages?
• My friends Matt & Emily (married). Matt had already run a few marathon when they met, then ran with Emily as she finished her first 26.2. How could you not prove yourself as ‘spouse material’ after that experience together?

The consequence: More mutually-athletic couples -> Super-genetic babies -> Higher probabilities of Usain Bolt 2.0.  These improvements in the gene pool won’t be quantum leaps[x], but almost imperceptibly incremental. Don’t think about going from Henry Ford’s Model-T to a Lamborghini. Instead, think of going from a Lamborghini to a Lamborghini with slightly modified headlamps that reduce the drag coefficient by 0.1%. The progress is slight, but it’s still progress.

Putting It All Together

More athletes with good genetics + Better resources and knowledge of training = continually increasing athletic performance.

This trend will only stop once:

•  The entire world has achieved such affluence that robots take care of all our needs, freeing us up to engage exclusively in recreational activities[xi], and 
• We’ve bred out all of the ‘fatties’ in the gene pool.

Barring an epic technical revolution (like Google colliding with a Star Trek Warp Drive in the Large Hadron Collider) and Nazi-style eugenics coming back in style, I don’t see either of these conditions becoming satisfied anytime soon. Thus, 9.44 seconds for the 100 meters isn't an asymptotic boundary for performance. Rather, there aren't any limits until a human comes along that can literally launch himself from the starting blocks past the finish line in a single, 100 meter-long leap that nears the speed of light. However, the Sun will likely swallow the Earth before this happens.

---

[i] The best writer of the MTV generation.

[ii] And that is virtually everybody, which is a shame.

[iii] Author’s conjecture.

[iv] The idea of expending so much energy for ‘fun’ would sound as foreign to Oliver Twist as ingesting Uranium would to us.

[v] Or rather, we are more likely to be born into a family situation with the resources of the McCoy's today than we were 150 years ago. In fact, 150 years ago, the concepts of 'weight training' or 'sports nutrition' didn’t even exist. Who knows what we are completely ignorant of today that will be commonplace in 75 years? The article even notes that we have no idea why a sprinter applies as much force as they do against the ground. Maybe we'll figure out some day that is because of superior neck muscles, leading to a revolution in neck-exercising routines? Point: we just don't know, and what we don't know, we can't improve. 

[vi] I’m assuming. This can’t be proven because we all know magic isn’t real. Tennis genius, however, is.

[vii] This baby will surely be freakishly tall, feminine looking, and imminently unlikeable (a dominant genetic trait from the father). 

[viii] Term of science.

[ix] Oops, spoiler alert. Also, I seriously doubt Jessie could shoot a basketball, making her a poor match for BMOC A.C. Slater. This proved prescient as A.C. went on to host Extra and various shows on Animal Planet, while Jessie Spanos is MIA after she moved to Las Vegas and took her clothes off for money.

[x] The type purported in X-Men, which made the movies completely unenjoyable for me.

[xi] And we all know how that ends: Skynet.

The Beginning of The End of The Beginning

Tomorrow I’m kicking off my summer racing season with the North Face Endurance Challenge Bear Mountain 50k. After that, I leave New York for good. I’ll spend the summer running the mountains around Boulder, CO; then compete in the White River 50 around Mt. Rainier in Washington. After that, it's down to Dallas, TX – where I’ll begin my post-graduate school career. The summer will be intense and challenging, and that’s exactly how I want it because once I reenter the professional world, I’m accepting that my growth stage, at least as a runner, is over. I’ll begin a new phase that will be less about ambition and more about realization. My running will change from an exercise in dreaming about what I could be to exploiting what I actually am.

Over the last 9 years, since I went from a pudgy high school senior to manic endurance runner, I’ve never been able to keep up with my ambitions. When I stepped on my first treadmill, I anxiously anticipated the day I could last more than 20 minutes. When I finished my first 10K, my thoughts immediately turned to the next hurdle: a 15k. Half Marathons followed, then eventually, the Marathon. Once I entered the ‘Ultra’ category, however, I felt satisfied. While there is still room for me to progress in terms of distance, I feel reasonably satisfied that my life won’t be incomplete if I never finish a 100 miler. Accomplishing myself at the 50 mile distance should be enough to tide my appetite.

Me and my Dad after my first organized race, the LMU 10k in April, 2003

After the White River 50 in late July, I’m hanging up the Ultra boots (at least for a while), to reprioritize and focus on my new job. If I can redirect the energy, sacrifice, and enthusiasm I’ve channeled into my running, I’m confident I’ll succeed just as much professionally as I have athletically. Without bogging one down with too many details, I won’t be able to approach my new career half-heartedly. That means no more obsessing about getting enough sleep before my next workout; no more distractions from my work responsibilities to obsess about my fitness and preparation; and more early mornings filled with emails instead of speed work. With less time and energy for my running, I doubt I’ll be able to train properly for a Half Marathon, let alone any Ultras. Never before have I willingly taken such a step backwards in my running career.

Running the Lost Dutchman Half Marathon in February, 2009

Instead, my racing and running will be defined by what is possible after I meet my other priorities; while in the past the converse has been true. Maybe I’ll refocus on 10Ks and 5Ks to build my speed, or maybe I’ll just run Halfs at a recreational pace. I don’t know the outcome now, but I do know things will change.

After the Niagara Falls International Marathon in November, 2010 - the start of a great Winter of racing

So now, I’m starting the beginning of the end of the first phase in my running lifetime. These last 9 years have been the opening act. I have no idea what will happen in the next phase, but there’s no utility in fretting about that now. Instead, I’m paying attention to running a good 50K tomorrow at Bear Mountain, which will give me a good expectation of what I’ll be capable of later in the Summer at the White River 50 Miler – the closing scene on the beginning of my life as a runner.

-John

We Don't Take Shortcuts

I was out in Central Park for a long run the other morning. In the sport of distance running, adjectives that pertain to distances and speeds are all relative, so let me clarify. I’m training for a 50 mile race this summer, and have been very diligent in changing my definitions of short, medium, and long. These days, a short run (which I try not to ever do) is anything under about 9 or 10 miles. A medium distance run is something in the neighborhood of 10 to 15 miles, and a long run everything else.  For this particular long run, I set out the door aiming for anything above 20 miles.

On that particular morning, the crispness of the onset of Spring was in the air. There was just enough humidity and warmth in the air to draw out people in short sleeves, but still enough coolness to partner them with a fair amount of those in tights and jackets. As a runner, this is the perfect climate for a long run; cold enough to not be inhibiting in any way, but warm enough to enjoy being outside with the hope of better things to come that is embodied in the first few days of Spring. Crisp air, brightened sun, and a few bold flowers blooming early.

The patrons of Central Park shared my enthusiasm for the changing season, as they were out in full force. A busy day in Central Park is a unique setting; one where the tether of the real world has been severed in a peaceful scene of serenity, all the while being besieged by the largest and most vibrant metropolis in this hemisphere. It’s a fleeting escape from reality, but a functional one. Additionally, it’s the only piece of nature accessible by the millions of residents of Manhattan, and as such, the main loop around the park is more like a circulatory system of runners, walkers, and bikers than it is a running path.

It was into this atmosphere that I set out for my big run of the week. But getting to this point wasn’t a short path. Since my last long run just 6 days ago, I’d put in close to 55 miles of work. I’ve gotten to the point in my training plan where I really don’t want easy days anymore. When great painters were in their prime, I doubt they ever looked at any piece as just a time killer until their next great work. I don’t want to take any individual run for granted or not feel the strengthening burn that comes at the end of a difficult effort. So, as I set out on this particular long run, my legs were already burdened with the accumulated fatigue of a long series of hard working days.

As I progressed through my run with a methodical economy of movements, I felt the benefit of my months of training up to that day. Every time I stayed out on the trail for just an extra mile or 15 minutes, I was purposefully augmenting every muscle in my legs like steel hardening in the furnace. Now, 14-15-16 miles deep into a run, the task still felt as simple as ‘focus on your form, keep your good posture’. At this point, I felt I was a product of my own making (at least as far as my conditioning went).

It was then, around mile 16, that I made a spontaneous, yet critical decision. I approached a fork in the trail. Veer to the left, and I’d continue for another revolution around a 1.5 mile loop. I could do this loop a few more times then turn towards home and finish right around 20 miles and satisfy my goal. However, veer to the right, and I go down a southward spur of the trail that would take me much further from home, and commit me to many more miles. By taking this route, I’d be both accepting and subjecting myself to a hearty surplus of miles above my stated goal. I’m glad to say I veered to the right.

The instant before I chose my direction, I was apprehensive and lazy – I was content with the shorter route and coming in right at my distance goal. However, that would have been the easy way out. We, as runners, don’t take the easy way. By taking the longer route, I faced a larger obstacle, greater discomfort, and a more trying experience overall. When I finished it successfully (as we all almost always do with the right application of mental fortitude), I was a better runner for it.

We don’t take shortcuts. If we did, then why are we even running at all? That’s like cheating in solitaire – it’s pointless and self-defeating. Taking a shortcut while running is succumbing to your perceived limits, be they a 3 mile run around the neighborhood, which could have been turned into 3 and a half; or 20 milers that could be defining experiences in a training cycle with a simple and split second decision to go the long way. You save perhaps a few kilo-calories of energy and a couple of minutes, but the opportunity cost is a workout that exceeded anything you'd expected or thought possible.

Keep on movin',

-John

Rivals and Accountability

One of my favorite writers, Chuck Klosterman, wrote a phenomenal social-observation essay on the importance of having a 'Nemesis' and an 'Archenemy' in your life. The former is a person you begrudgingly and surreptitiously like, but outwardly hate. You're Archenemy is someone you compete with and revile to your core. In a footrace, you'd want to finish first, you'd like your Nemisis to finish somewhere in the top 10%, and you pray to your God that your Archenemy gets trampled at the start. I agree with everything Klosterman said, but want to add one more role; a person in your life that fits somewhere between you're least favorite brother and your Nemsis; the person you'd want to finish 2nd: you're rival training partner.

This is a guy who is at about your same level of ability, has about the same goals, and about the same intensity as you. In fact, you're remarkable similarity and parity creates the reason why you want so badly to best this person in anything that could possibly be perceived as a competition. 

One of the beauties of running is it enables perfect comparability. Results are black and white: you either finish ahead of someone or behind them. There aren't any ties either. There are close finishes, but really no ties. This clarity of results creates a dimension in which you and your rival can finally and definitively distinguish yourselves. The two of you may be comparable in every other respect, but you can always earn the pride and esteem that comes from victory by beating your rival. 

In addition to being someone similar to you in most ways, your rival also has to be someone you at least kind-of respect. This is because it has to mean something to you personally to beat them. It also means you should probably have de-facto respect for yourself since the rival is your near doppelgänger. 

The social dynamic that is the lynchpin of rivalry-driven results is accountability. Your rival probably knows what you are up to: how long your long-run is or how fast your tempo runs are. Because of this, you better know yourself what your rival is up to. If your rival ran 17 miles for their long run, they will earn a minor victory unless you run the same distance & effort. Falling short will only be a tiny admission that this was an instance in which your rival was able to rise to the occasion, but you weren't. This is a constant check for every workout to make sure you are always giving your best effort, as your pride and competitive vigor shouldn't accept these small defeats easily. If you do you can be sure your rival will surpass you eventually, and earn a smug grin the next time you meet and compare training progress. These outcomes will foreshadow your long term triumphs or failures.