The Joy Of Running

But our Cambridge opponents were going very strongly. Just when I was almost bogged in the "Slough of Despond," I commented with forced cheerfulness to an opponent, "I like mud, it makes the course more interesting, doesn't it?" Such unexpected heartiness evidently discouraged him, and he fell right back.

After two more miles came the long climb up the "Toast-rack." I contrived to come up to a Cambridge man, and as we reached the top I dragged myself past him with my last reserves of energy, saying as I did so, "Well, that didn't seem as bad as last year!" On this discouragement he too suddenly dropped back, and I managed somehow to reach the finish in first place in 41 minutes 54 seconds, the fastest time for this course since 1922.

Sometimes I think it is a pity that it is not possible to improve the situation in track races by appropriate comments between the runners. There is a happy social atmosphere about cross-country running not found on the track, connected partly with the cheerful confusion of improvised changing rooms and partly in sharing together the ups and downs of the course.

My training was very light, if not inadequate, at this time. My earliest system in Oxford was to train four days a week, alternating slow runs of one-and-a-quarter miles with faster runs of a half to three-quarter miles, and to run a fast time trial of three-quarter mile a few days before the race.

This method has several disadvantages. So much running on the track became boring, and I lost the sense of freshness which comes from putting on spikes only for an important race. Further, this method did not strengthen me—it merely kept me in running condition. Provided I did not race too often, I was able to run races near my best times, but without showing any decided improvement.

I ran almost entirely on nervous energy summoned for the occasion, and I needed time afterward to recover. The night after my races I was too tired physically and too excited mentally to sleep. The muscles of my legs would ache. Large quantities of salt are lost through excessive perspiration, and if I did not eat salt immediately after the race I was wracked with cramp.

Then Jim Alford, AAA coach, lent me an account of the training methods of Gunder H�gg, the Swedish world record holder for the mile. H�gg used a method called fartlek, meaning speed-play, in which he ran almost entirely on grass. He alternated gentle running with fast running over distances from 100 yards to a mile. The aim is to give speed and stamina to the athlete, imitating the games which children play involving short bursts of running and recovering. I began to modify my methods along these lines, and this principle has formed the basis of my subsequent training.

On March 18, 1950 I lowered the Inter-Varsity record again with a 4-minute 14.8-second mile.

On July 1, 1950, the day after my exams, I ran a 4-minute 13-second mile against the American universities at the White City Stadium, with a last lap in 57.5 seconds, my fastest time in England up to that date.

The next day I traveled to Finland with David Dixon and Nick Stacey, who had followed me in turn as president of the Oxford University Athletic Club. We were invited by the Helsinki University Club as a gesture of friendliness toward Oxford, and hired out like circus performers to local athletic clubs for track meetings, in order to cover our travel expenses.