To respond to some comments to that post (on Facebook, mostly), it is true that it is possible to structure a year so that university distance runners can do all three seasons. The way to make that happen is to make sure that club and university coaches are on the same page in terms of the athlete’s plan. To be honest, this is where most of the conflict comes into play. It doesn’t have to be so. Melissa Bishop managed to qualify for the Olympics last summer training out of the Windsor Lancers program, while her club was the Ottawa Lions. Another Olympian, Sara Wells has both her club and university groups in the same place, at UofT. This can be done. Charles Philibert-Thiboutot shut down his CIS indoor season to make sure he’s healthy for the outdoor season. In his case, his club coach and his university coach are one in the same. In the Quebec context generally, however, there seems to be a resistance from club coaches to committing to the full CIS season. I think the root of this problem is that we are unclear about the role a coach plays in the long term development of an athlete. Or, another way to put it, is that there is too much “peak by Friday” mentality, and not enough big picture thinking.

The FQA can take the lead on changing this by restructuring some of the incentives that are designed to target coaches. There are some issues here in that the government gives money for a particular program, and the FQA can’t just re-purpose it as they please. This is too bad though, as a bottom-up structure works better than top down. Let the people who are involved in the sport on the ground decide what to do with the money. Anyway, the following assumes we can figure this out and use the funds that exist in a different way.

As I mentioned above, funding the base, and funding the top should be the two priorities. This is actually nicely analogous to training for distance running: build a good base with lots of easy miles, and by working on top-end speed–leave the specific work (which falls in a kind of mushy middle in terms of volume/quality/recovery) for after that. So: funding clubs at the development or base level means, I think, funding coaches. Paid coaches, and educated coaches are coaches who will do right by the athletes. Some people decry the coaching education system as bureaucratic, and value years of on the ground experience more highly than they do a weekend course. Those years are valuable, there’s no question. But don’t discount coaching courses, not necessarily for the committee-designed curriculum (it’s often repetitive and boring), but for the opportunity to spend a weekend with other coaches, talking, and sharing those years of experience. THAT is valuable.

To end, here’s another controversial schema: Coaches need to be specialised. An athlete should have more than one coach over the course of his or her career. Imagine a system where each club is structured like this:

At age 9-14, provide a coach who introduces kids to track and field, understands that they are probably playing a few different sports, and has the goal of making things fun. This coach would be judged not on the number of medals his or her athlete won, but on how many kids graduate to the next level. Provide funds for coaches based on the number of kids who move on.

From age 15-18 (pre-university), a coach who understands the struggles of being a teenager, who encourages athletes towards their strengths, but still builds a base for the future career. Again, reward the coach who keeps the most kids in the sport.

From age 19-23, the university coach who integrates the athlete into the varsity program, shares with them all the university has to offer, and understands that while most people end their careers after school, the more runners who decide to keep going, the better. At this point, yes, performance matters. Varsity rosters are limited and participation is based on achieving standards. So at this point, by all means let the cream rise to the top, but keep in mind that there are 5-10 more years of running career to follow a university degree, if the athlete so desires.

From age 23-30 (roughly) a real high performance coach works with the athlete to help him or her achieve her goals of personal bests, records, wins and national teams. The groups are going to be smaller at this point, because athletes will have to make tough choices about whether or not to continue in the sport. But the more athletes we bring to this point, the more will choose to go on, and the more true high performance success we will have. This only works, however, if we’ve built the base from the bottom up.

For athletes aged 23+ who are not high performance, but because of the great experience they had in the sport, they are happy to continue to try to improve themselves, a coach to work with them towards those goals.

As you can see, in this system, an athlete has four different coaches. This is great! Four people to learn from. Most coaches want to be the HP coach. Of course. That makes sense. But it’s potentially disadventageous to an athlete to be stuck with the same coach his or her whole life. A 14-year-old or even a 17-year-old for that matter, does not need a high performance coach. He or she needs a coach to help him or her through adolescence, and hopefully, that coach will show the athlete how the sport of track and field is a great place to grow up, and maybe even stay a while.

This isn’t what we have now. What we have now is a system where a coach can make his or her bones off a single high performing junior athlete. “Discover” one great talent, ride him or her to international success, and get all kinds of praise and funding as a coach. This is fun for the coach, but it doesn’t help grow the sport.

We need to prioritize and reward coaches not for athletes’ performances, results, records, medals, etc, but for how many athletes they graduate to the next level. This is key. The best development coach is not the one with the fastest athletes, he or she is the one with the MOST athletes who continue on to the next level. I think we can recognize a few of our best coaches here: from a big group comes a fast group.

Another comment that came up on Facebook, via Steve Weiler of the London Runner Distance Club, was that part of the problem in development was segregation of age groups, both in competition and in training. This is a great point. The coaching development structure above would work best in one club, where all the coaches are talking to each other, getting ready to move the athletes up the chute. A big practice, with all age groups around, is a great thing. And sure, maybe there is some overlap where some real high performing juniors might benefit from some work with a high performance coach. The goal of this suggestion is not to hold back athletes with real potential, but to ensure that those whose potential might not yet be apparent are supported and given the opportunity they need.

Another potential qualm with this is the idea that a coach gets to know an athlete, and this relationship, developed over many years, is key to athlete performance. I agree that this is true, but if we are talking real world-class athletes, then an international career would last maybe 10 years, starting in the early 20s, and stretching into the early 30s. That seems like plenty of time to get it right, with the youth years divided among coaches who are specialised in that area. Other than Galen Rupp, what international athletes have had the same coach since they were 14 years old? Mo Farah changed coaches mid-career. Reid Coolsaet hasn’t been disadvantaged by the fact that he only started working with DST after high school. This is a red herring.

The object here is to think about a global system. It is easy, as an individual, to think of yourself (coach or athlete) as an exception. But if we are going to have a system that supports and promotes young people in the sport, we can’t focus on the exceptions. We have to consider the base.

Two last interesting things: You can go on the FQA website and see how many coaches are registered with each club. What I find interesting about this list is that there are a lot of clubs with only one or two coaches. It’s not possible for them to properly move athletes up the development train this way. Unless, they propose only to service one particular age group. That’s cool, but then you need to have another club to feed them into. This is ok (not all clubs have the resources to be “full-service”), but it makes it harder to ensure a similar development philosophy.

Another thing I noticed is that there are way more male coaches than female coaches. This is a common problem, you might say. Ok, maybe, but how does Corsaire Chaparal manage to have 9 female coaches!? That’s amazing. They have 19 coaches registered. They’ve pretty much got the right ratio there. I am willing to bet their club has a coaching system similar to the one described above. We should all strive for this, and, if coaches and clubs were rewarded for numbers, rather than results, we’d actually end up seeing a lot more results.

I think this is a funny gif as it represents the impression many in the track and field world have of our officials: curmudgeonly, picky, awkward. It’s true that there are many officials that rub people the wrong way. There are also many who do a great job keeping the meets going and making sure the athletes have the best opportunity to perform. But it’s always the bad apples who stick out.

It seems to me most of us consider them a necessary evil, and we deal with it the best we can. But when we’re having a conversation about how to better market our sport, the place of officials needs to be discussed. If you recall, most would-be track fans are looking for some excitement, some personality, some way to connect with the athletes on the track. It’s rare that we get a Steve Prefontaine or even a Gabe Jennings (remember him?) who does more than just race: he makes the fans jump out of their seats.

Unfortunately, when a fire does start to burn, track and field officials are there to throw a wet blanket on it. Take the CIS championships this weekend: the Western Mustang men’s 4x800m team won the event, on an emphatic kick from anchorman Scott Leitch. Let’s back up a bit and go through the history here. The race was a battle between Western (and Leitch) and Guelph and their top half-miler, Anthony Romaniw. Romaniw is someone who fans might pay to see race. His coach, the normally reserved Dave Scott-Thomas, described “Romo” as “an artist on the track.” He also referred to the runner’s in-competition antics in this tweet:

Others have less charitably referred to Romaniw as a “hot dog” likely due to his tendency to give the crowd a little show at the end of races. Whether you agree with it or not, Romo’s races are appointment viewing. At the OUA championships, he routinely jogged down the finishing straight, looking around for his competition, with plenty of room to spare. In the 4×800, Guelph won a decisive victory, with Western coming 3rd. Romaniw also won the 1000m and 600m, easily, ahead of Leitch (and everyone else) in both cases. In the CIS 1000m, Romaniw eased off and let his teammate Steve Holmes win, presumably because Holmes will be graduating this spring, and his buddy wanted him to go out on top. For a change of pace, in the 600m, Romaniw sat in the pack until the final 150m, then exploded around 5 guys, chased down Leitch in the stretch, and won. The guy is fast, interesting, and exciting to watch.

So back to the CIS championships 4×800, and Leitch, who with a blistering last lap, looked like he had finally gotten the better of his Gryphon rival. Romaniw, again, shut it down in the final straightaway, with room to spare between himself and 3rd place. It looked like he had gone too early, taking the lead in the final lap, being challenged unnecessarily by a lapped runner from York. So all things considered, it looked like a good rivalry match-up, something that potential fans could anticipate, perhaps going into the summer: the “cocky” Romaniw and the headband-wearing Leitch. Cool.

But, shortly after the race, the results were updated to indicate that Western had been DQed under rule 125.5, which is essentially track’s “unsportsmanlike conduct” rule. Turns out Leitch had “spiked” the baton as a celebratory gesture and some officials didn’t like it, so they laid down the law. As with Romaniw’s alledged “hot dogging” you can decide for yourself if you like that sort of thing or not, I suppose. But if we are going to say, on the one hand, that we want more personality in the sport, more excitement, and more drama, then we can’t have officials who essentially outlaw any such thing.

Given Romaniw’s seeming affinity for grand gestures, I’d like to see him give his 4x800m gold medal (of course Guelph moved up to the top of the podium) to Leitch. There’s precedent for this: Reid Coolsaet did the same in the Canada Games in 2001, after Daniel Blouin finished 3rd, but was disqualified for mooning the crowd after his race. The CIS 4×800 had all the elements people want in a track race: it was an exciting, close race, with some great personalities involved. Western won that round of what is sure to be a great on-going battle. It seems a shame that the final result doesn’t reflect the true outcome. All because of an official.

Once, after a similar yell I started taking exaggerated giant steps, to prove a point; that it wasn’t my fault I kept falling, the sticks were out to get me, and there was nothing I could do about it. But damn, he was right. I was dragging my heels. And I didn’t fall as much if I took his advice and focused.

Maybe I’m bigger now, and stronger, so lifting my heels isn’t something that I need to focus on as much as I used to (had to). But all those twigs are sure as hell still there. Some are obvious, some not so much, some I have to climb over. When I learned how to walk without face-planting all the time, I learned how to focus on me, I learned how to do it without thinking about it. I learned a lesson.

This is it folks.

I can’t believe I just spent two months in Kenya. Living, breathing and acting out the dream. I was able to really buckle down and train like I’ve never been able to train before. And I survived (knock on wood). I completely took on and even embraced the lifestyle, I ate local foods day in and day out, I jumped into the program that the local guys were doing, and I’ve come out the other end unharmed and hopefully fitter than ever.

I want to thank everyone who has been reading along and following my experience. It consoled me to know people were interested and curious with questions. It gave me something to do during down time, and encouraged me to constantly reflect on my purpose for the here and now, my job; my running. So thanks guys! And thanks for all the encouraging words.

Although I will thank them in person, I also want to use this space here to thank the family that has been so gracious to host me for the past two months, especially the strong mother of the house; Juliana. She gave me a place to stay and sleep, cooked my every meal, washed my clothes and worried about me if I wasn’t home at the usual time, or if I was feeling run-down or under the weather. Her, her oldest daughter Purity and the many helpers that have been in and out of the compound kept the days comfortable and made me feel at home. I owe them any successes I have as a result of my training and staying healthy throughout my stay here in Kenya.

To the many friends I’ve made here, especially my running mates; what a journey. The stories we’ve exchanged during the countless runs, sit-downs, visits and lounging moments have been special to me. Simon, my Maasai friend, became my guide, my interpreter, my buddy and someone I trust my life with. We’ve spent every day together, as running mates do; any of my friends from back home can understand the bond that can develop within a very short period of time. It is family; it is blood, sweat and tears. Simon and I explored, I had many firsts in Kenya, and he had some too, like his first milkshake or his first apple. So Simon thanks for sharing, man.

I’ve finished my last workout here in Kenya; I ran it yesterday at the track. It was 10x 400-200-200. I wanted to get going at my 5k race pace that I intend to run on March 2^nd. I anticipated it to be pretty tough. It’s funny how the mind works, most of the time if I think a workout is going to be easy it ends up knocking me on my ass, but if I psyche myself up then usually I can handle it. I man-handled this sucker. My splits were dead on, and I stayed nice and relaxed the entire time, so it was a real confidence booster. I’m really excited to see what it means when I come down from altitude.

I’ve thought a lot about the training as a whole since I’ve been here. I’ve run a ton, with triples. I’ve been consistent; no injuries, no days lost from being sick. I’ve either been really lucky, or my habits were just right. I worked really hard to keep my legs and body right, I massaged with my stick, foam roller and golf ball every day, usually at breakfast after morning run. I took naps almost every day too, I’d give in to feeling tired every time. My easy runs were slow, sometimes deliberate, sometimes because I was too wiped to run any faster. Without hard proteins (meats) I ate like a fiend, my meals at lunch and supper were huge, and I’d usually have to sit or take a nap before thinking of doing anything else (there’s nothing really to snack on). And I didn’t do much of anything else during the day, it really has been the dream, I often passed on trips to Eldoret or invitations to go visiting during the week; I was just too tired, or knew that walking for two hours would set me back for the next workout.

I have to admit, Kenya is one of the few places in the world that you can get away with this life style, which is precisely why there are so many good Kenyan runners. The rest of us have to work, at least a little, and even that little bit is enough to take away. University is a good place, if you can be focused enough, studying can take up relatively little time. I wasn’t really. But I believe I can be in the future-haha. I’ve learned how to incorporate serious resting into the day, and still be able to read my books that I brought, and write my blogs and respond to emails. Having sketchy Kenyan internet has taught me not to waste time. Running three times a day has taught me not to waste time. Hearing about a runner my age run a Canadian record has taught me not to waste time.

Sometimes I compare myself to other runners. They’re usually ones that are better than me. But I don’t do it to bog myself down with all the things I haven’t accomplished. I do it to look for similarities, or patterns, in a way to confirm my own choices, or to explore different ideas about my progression. Without any recent race times from my legs, and having been at altitude for a solid amount of time, it’s difficult to compare, so my imagination has opened up to what I think may be possible and it’s wonderful.

I have only four more days. On Tuesday I fly to Nairobi then spend the day waiting for my flight to Paris. Sometimes I think about how quickly to an end my stay has come, and other times I feel as though these days are the longest ones I’ve had to endure the whole trip. I’m looking forward to coming home, and believe it or not, I’m looking forward to winter. It has felt unnatural to be witnessing it from away and not feel it and enjoy the season. Sure some winter days suck, but every year of my life has had a winter. I’d rather not have a gap year.

See you in a few days,

Dragon

On Monday after lunch after hill work, we left, determined to discover this other place, a place I’ve heard so much about.

From Mosoriot we managed to get a ride from an Indian picking up people willing to pay as he made his way to Eldoret. There was a little small talk, but not much. We got dropped off at the airport so that I could book my ticket to Nairobi, one thing off the to-do list. When we left the airport we waited on the side of the road for maybe 5minutes until another car came along willing to give us a lift. Hitchhiking is a popular thing here, or jumping into a Mattatu, either way, it’s not difficult to get a ride, especially when you are a Mzungu. When we reached Eldoret it took some time to find the Mattatu center that had vans going to Iten. Along the search we grabbed some sweet bananas from one of the many fruit kiosks that line the streets. I can eat pretty much anything that has a natural barrier, like bananas, pineapples and mangos. The fruit is delicious because it always comes in fresh and everything in Kenya tastes and smells better..

When we got to the Iten bound Mattatus we met another Canadian heading the same way and jumped on the same ride. His name was Jeff and he was training for a half-marathon and has done a lot of research on altitude training.

We arrived in Iten without fuss. We hopped off directly in front of the High Altitude Training Center (HATC); the entrance to it was framed by sypris trees with wooden fences on both sides, and a rocky drive-way leading down and down. We walked down with Jeff chatting about this or that then as luck would have it Eric Gillis came down the drive-way from a run. As it was late in the afternoon, we had to get our sleeping arrangements figured out.

The center is a resort. There’s a pool, a gym and something that sounds like a buffet for every meal. It’s expensive and was way out of our budget for one night. So we jogged down to the main part of town to look for a hotel. After a couple tries (this is high season for athletes in the area, so things get booked up) we found one bedroom with two beds and took it. We ran back to HATC, chatted with Reid and Eric a bit for the following day’s plans, and then walked back to the hotel. It was more of a hostel. The front counter to the building was butchery, so we had to wait in line, or rather; we had to wait for everyone waiting for meat to be served. They had a hunk of meat behind the counter with a man using a hack saw to piece it up. Then the lady at the counter would weigh it, rap it once in newspaper then put it into two plastic bags. Customers would watch the process, pay and hustle out. Our room was behind the butchery, through a tight alleyway, past several open bars, a pool table and a restaurant. Once up a set of stairs and on a balcony, it didn’t seem that bad. The two beds where almost double beds, but the mattresses where too big for the frames so they had a deep bowl shape to them. I was going to sleep in one of the beds with Simon.

We went hunting for food and found it at a busy place called Hillside. The place was packed because it was the Presidential Debate. We finished up quick then returned to the hotel and hit the hay.

The next morning we met up with Reid and HATC and jogged over to the track. The place was teeming with athletes. There was one big group of about 70 guys doing repeats, then a couple of smaller groups of 3-20 guys doing other workouts. It was busy. Reid rolled out some 1200s along with Simon, while I did 800s at the same pace. You really had to fight to keep your position on the track with some groups going faster and slower. When we finished we jogged back to the center and Michael, Simon and I got to take showers. Amazing. At the resto on the premises we had a bite to eat and chatted about races and training and whatever else. But time was ticking, and we had to get back to Mosoriot to get in our afternoon run. So headed out to catch a Mattatu back to Eldoret.

While waiting on the side of the road a small pick-up pulled up behind us to take a look at a souvenir kiosk by the road. Simon and I looked in, low-and-behold Mo Farah was at the wheel. Some words were exchanged, and Simon told us Mo was going to give us a lift back to Eldoret. Yep. We all giggled inside then hopped in.

Mo seems to be a pretty cool guy. He likes his Somalian music, especially the songs that are written about him. He’s also aware of how boring track can be, we had a conversation about hairstyles and facial hair, and changing it up for races, to make it more entertaining. He’s a big fan of Pre’s stache, or any stache for that matter. It was a cool car ride.

My days here are numbered, I’m going to miss the Chai.

I enjoy discussing the big questions in our sport with Laurent. He’s not afraid to argue. Neither am I. It’s fun. We had a good chat the other weekend as he was updating the scoreboard for the Ontario/Quebec/Maritimes juvenile challenge at Claude Robillard. It turned on the question of what role the CIS and its programs should play in athlete development in the larger sport of track and field.

Right now in Quebec, we have some schools that are real high performance centres, and others that are just trying to get off the ground. The question that was asked was where do universities fit in the athlete’s career? From a distance runner’s perspective, running in a CIS program means a big cross country season that ends mid-November, followed by a short, but intense indoor season that ends either at the end of February, or early March, if you qualify for the CIS championships. This is about 5 months of intense training and competition (at least the way most programs work), and although it leaves a good amount of time to build up for the real track season in the summer, one might view trying to peak three times in one year to be too much, and many university runners take the summer off competition. A break after CIS in March, then some easy build-up in April during exams, then back home to a local track club, maybe some road races, or some track to keep sharp, then in July and August start building mileage for cross.

It seems to me that the role of the CIS is kind of like U23 in triathlon: a development stage so runners can get good competitive opportunities, and prepare for their senior-level careers. Steve Boyd, one of Canada’s top masters runners, and cross country coach at Queen’s university, suggests that the CIS is “the last age-group.”

The FQA would like its members who are part of the CIS to be available and to compete in the summer season, the “real” season for track and field. This makes sense, after all, this group of athletes are in fact, our best runners. What I would like to suggest, however, is that this is the hidden development problem we face, and why Quebec has not been able to build up a strong national team presence, nor a depth of distance runners at the post-collegiate level. Our university runners should not be our best runners! Instead of putting pressure on CIS athletes to compete year round, the FQA should focus its mandate on keeping runners in the sport when they graduate. It would be awkward at first, and disappointing for some, but in the long run, this tactic would build a stronger sport culture overall.

Here’s the thing. Most people would view the fact that our best runners are only 20-25 years old as a sign of a hopeful future. Indeed, the group of runners at the top of the distance running heap right now are good and fast runners, but this does not mean that they will be for years to come. This is no slight to these guys. Even among the best them, there is caution, and a tempering of expectations. But you have to ask the question: why are there no 25-30 year old men (the women’s side is in similar shape) in the rankings when that is supposed to be the peak age for record-breaking and lifetime bests?

I propose that the reason is that we push our U23 cohort (and everyone younger than them) too hard, with too much competition (three peaks a year), such that they get injured, or leave the sport, or are more interested in the less intense road race circuit. Another argument could be made about how we are mismanaging our youth athletes, but I’ll leave that for another day (Have you heard of Raphael Cote-Dubuc, Dave Boily or Nicolas Bouillon? They are the top 3 15 year-old 1500m runners from 2008. They would be 20 years old this year. Where are they now?).

I’m not saying CPT or Annie Leblanc should not race in the summer or try to make national teams. There are a handful of exceptions, as always. That being said, did you know that Philibert-Thiboutot broke the Quebec indoor 1500m record without any specific 1500m workouts under his belt? He and his coach are wisely using the indoor season to prepare for a bigger outdoor season. There’s a precedent for this, as Geoff Martinson won a CIS medal in the 1500 on a similar strength-based plan. A few runners who are strides ahead of the competition can do this. The problem is there are very few of these types. The bulk of the CIS cohort treat indoors as their main season, and this can be damaging.

(A short digression: I was a CIS coach for 10 years. A sort of blessing in disguise in our case was that Concordia was too disinterested to help us start up an indoor track program. This was good for the athletes we had, as they tended not to get burned out by the winter season. On the other hand, it was tough for recruiting, because there are a limited number of distance runners out there willing to come to a program that only offers cross country. So I didn’t have to make a choice as a coach about what to do in this case. This is a good example of how what is good for certain individuals may not be the best for the collective, and vice-versa. I think that explains why I am both anti-indoor season, and also why I left because Concordia wouldn’t give us one.)

There should be a top tier of senior level athlete that is well-taken care of, motivated to stay in the sport, and supported to perform at the national and international level. The reason we don’t have this is not because we haven’t identified talent, or pushed people hard enough: it is because we have identified talent too early, and we have pushed people too hard. Anecdotally, a big reason for leaving the sport I’ve heard from people is that they are turned off by our competitions. Either that, or they are injured, or they can’t afford to balance training and life post-school.

Our best runners shouldn’t be our university runners. It makes sense that we want the existing group to have full outdoor seasons, because if they didn’t, track meets would be essentially just kids meets. But are we just keeping them in a cycle of competition where we burn them out early?

How do we fix this? I don’t propose banning university runners from the summer season. That’s an individual choice, and the federation shouldn’t meddle with that. No, we need to do things at the lower levels in order to have the effects trickle up to the top.

Numbers and longevity are the two main goals we should strive for as a sport. Last year (2011) at the FQA coaches’ meeting, Rova Rabemananjara gave a presentation on how to increase Quebec’s representation on Canadian national teams. The solution is actually pretty easy: get more people in the sport.

Surprisingly, we are not in as dire a circumstance as one might think. There are over 30,000 kids who participate in cross country at the elementary school level. We lead ALL OTHER SPORTS. Let me just repeat that. IN ALL CAPS. MORE KIDS RUN CROSS COUNTRY IN ELEMENTARY AND HIGH SCHOOL THAN DO ANY OTHER SPORT. Unfortunately, only 1% of those kids go on to run xc in CEGEP. And half that many run at the university level. 36,356 kids, down to 361, down to 137.

Fighting to keep our university runners around and competing in the summer is like closing the barn door after the horses have run away anyway. We are doing a horrible job at keeping kids in the sport. In the past, I’ve suggested that there was a “gap” at the CEGEP level, but these numbers, from 2010-11, show that the college level is already beyond CIS participation in Quebec. There is a gap in track as the numbers there go from 12,000 to 0 for CEGEPs, and back up to 181 for universities. We need to fix that, too.

We need to figure out how to keep people in our sport. I would suggest that there is a simple solution, that is in some ways already underway. Fewer competitions for younger athletes. This idea comes from the LTAD (Long Term Athlete Development) model. While it is certainly open to criticism, it seems as if most clubs and coaches are operating without any kind of model, other than: intervals twice a week and a race on the weekend. This is probably why kids leave the sport. The LTAD suggests that at 15-16 years old, the athlete should be “training for competition” and then at 17-18 “training to win.” Yet it seems as if we put this idea of “training to win” in kids’ heads as early as 11 or 12 years old!

There’s a saying: if you love something, let it go. The same applies to athletes. The LTAD suggests they should be doing more than one sport up until the age of 14 or 15. We are being used in this regard by many other sports. Those 36,000 kids running cross country are likely made up of a big group of hockey, basketball and soccer players. So we need to recruit some of those kids to our clubs, make a deal that, yes, they can still do other sports, and the more athletes we get, the more likely it is some of them will stay. That’s it. It’s a simple equation. Just show as many kids as you can a good time and some will stick around. Some of those will be good, and some of those will be very good. But if you pin your hopes on one 11-year-old girl who has great natural talent but hasn’t even grown into her body yet, you are going to be disappointed. And so is she because she could have been doing so many other things, and maybe gone on to greatness in something. Even if it isn’t track, why should we deprive someone of that opportunity?

Some ideas for racing. Either just straight up reduce the number of meets, or modify the meets so that only a few events are offered. Instead of 400,800,1200,2000, offer just a 1200. That way, you get all the kids together in one race. This is more fun, and the meets run more smoothly. There’s less pressure on the kids because 1200 may not be everyone’s best event, so some weeks, the focus is less on the race, more on training and learning the experience of the race. You can offer a 2000m the next week. Maybe some kid who would never have done it has a try and is surprised by how well she does. The “competitions en gymnase” that are happening around the province are a great way for the under 15 group to experience competition without too much stress, as long as coaches don’t put too much pressure on the athletes.

By the way: I certainly don’t think that we should ask less of our athletes. Just that we need to shift the balance of the load. I don’t think this is at all in conflict with my post from earlier this year regarding cross country distances. I think an appropriate challenge is motivating. There is also a big difference in the atmosphere of competition between cross country and track seasons.

Reducing the number of meets is probably a good idea though. This would reduce the burden on coaches, parents, officials, and meet organizers, not to mention athletes. When I’ve suggested reducing the number of meets in the past (at the RSEQ XC coaches meetings), I’ve been told that it is an impossibility, and that programs rely on these events for funding, recruiting, and promotion. I think the only element of truth there is related to funding. The rest is b.s. Perhaps clubs would need to look elsewhere for funding options. It’s a bit of a catch-22: put on the meets to fund the club that no one joins because kids leave the sport because there are too many competitions or cancel the meets so the club doesn’t have funds to support the athletes who stay longer because they haven’t been burnt out.

Back to the elite senior group. What is the connection? The longer people stay in the sport, the more likely they are to become elite. This is a simple matter of math. Don’t focus on quality when they are young, focus on quantity. Keep focusing on quantity until they are out of university. Then pick out the quality.

This is perhaps where the FQA could step in, by modifying the “Programme D’Excellence”. Instead of funding elites from 18-22 years old, shift some of that “relève” money to the clubs for development of their base, and move some of the “elite” money away from those 20-23 who are in school, and reserve it for those who choose to commit to training post-collegiately. Essentially, place the burden of supporting student-athletes on the university system. Trust them with that, and trust them with development over 4-5 years, where we don’t place demands on these athletes to compete in the summer.

My reasoning for this is simple: the top athletes in Quebec aren’t making a choice whether or not to continue in the sport as they undertake their studies. Being in school is an ideal training situation: flexible schedule; subsidized training, coaching and travel to competition (for the most part); and plenty of high level competition opportunities. It’s after school ends that people are left wanting. Support athletes at this moment of choice, rather than when they are in a pretty safe environment to begin with, and maybe our senior rankings will include more 25-30 year olds, and more national team members. If you look at those who do stick around, it is because they are in a collegiate-like training environment.

Extend this support to clubs as well. Instead of throwing all kinds of money into a mushy middle, fund the base and fund the top. Push kids up through the system with fun and a ton of support, let the universities take over at the more difficult moment of transition between junior and senior ranks, and then reward those who decide to stay on after school, who have a real shot at making national teams.

There’s much more that we could do, but this would be an interesting start. I have more ideas, but this is already too long. A related idea is how to spread out coaching to match athlete development. I’ll post that separately.

To sum up: we have some great university, U23, or Espoir athletes, but we are pinning all our hopes on them in the absence of a true, senior, international cohort. The way to build a strong Quebec presence on national teams is to keep people in the sport as long as possible, and to focus on supporting athletes in difficult transition areas: high school to CEGEP and post-university graduation. Focus on the extremes: quantity in the base, and quality at the elite level. The elite level starts after university.

I tried to tempo the senior men’s 12k provincial championships for Nandi County today. I started out easy, real easy, dead last. Through 4k I was smiling and calling back at the crowd; the announcer kept calling me the foreign runner, which is accurate enough, but I called out I was from Canada, they like knowing where the Mzungus are from. I probably passed about 20 people who had taken off way too fast for their fitness level and overtook runners who were DNF’ing left and right.

At about 6k the familiar heavy feeling started to settle into my legs, and my tempo was turning into a very tough effort. I still had good pop in my legs, but my breathing was hard, and I was starting to struggle. My head was wobbling forward, my vision was starting to tunnel, and I was starting to make deals with myself. Initially I wanted to do the entire 12k as a solid long tempo effort, but, after such a big week, it was looking like I was going to dig a pretty big hole by finishing it. So I decided to hold out to 8k, the race distance I’ve been completing lately. At 8k I knew I was going to stop soon, but didn’t want to stop in front of the crowds. The stadium at the track (the race this time was in Mosoriot, on our home track and adjacent field) was full of spectators, and a good portion of the loop was lined with people who I wanted to avoid after dropping out. The crowds behave like any crowd at a sporting event, like soccer in South America or Hockey in Canada; they yell and jeer and chant; it’s pretty intense. So I kept running probably closer to 9k, and pulled out under the shade to cough up all the phlegm and crap in my mouth and throat; the altitude does weird things. It was pretty hot, and most of the races’ times were slow, some were thinking that the loop could’ve been a little long. There’s no real way of knowing.

After the race Simon gave me the run-down that Nandi County has the strongest runners in the country. A team of 6 runners will qualify for Nationals then a bunch of individuals will find their own way to Nairobi (nationals). He said it’s likely (and usually happens) that the 6 team members finish in the top 10 at nationals. Then from around the country there are a few others who break up the Nandi dominance. It made me realize the depth that I’ve been competing against. It’s like World’s. In the junior men’s race it’s even more obvious; only because the top 30 guys running probably have an average age of 28. I tried spotting for what I thought would definitely be a junior runner, he seemed to be back in 40^th or so. Most coaches and officials kind of laugh it off. I think it contributes to the running dominance in Kenya, these guys continue to compete into their late 30s to get full years in senior divisions. Easily. I don’t hear about many western runners who do that. Regardless, racing here is tactical, difficult, and eye opening.

Maybe to keep me relevant, maybe because of a serious interest of my thoughts, or maybe for my reflections from here in Kenya, my Coach sent me this article; http://www.grantland.com/story/_/id/8904906/daring-ask-ped-question

It’s a serious, frank, refreshing and developing look at the doping conversation in professional sports today. What struck me most was the sour realization that there is a dark reality to our sports, many of our heroes and likely; the kind of results we get excited about the most.

The topic of doping and performance enhancing drugs has come up before in conversations with my Maasai friend Simon. According to him, most if not all of the top level athletes dope. It comes from the managers that pick up these athletes, and who, like the athletes and their families depend on winning to finance everything, so doping helps gain that edge. Talk about doping is a lot like talk in Canada about the newest, lightest shoes. When an athlete does better than expected, sort of out of the blue, others speculate that it must be a new drug, from this or that manager (who is known to give out PEDs to his athletes). Some hope they can get their hands on it. Simon knows it’s wrong. But he sees it as a problem for those Kenyans who know it’s bad and chose to stay away from them. It results in athletic, economic, social inequality and an inability for people to have a fair shot at success (there’s a word I can’t think of that fits nicely into this, damn it).

What it comes down to is that this guy Simmons is right. Doping should be a hot topic in sports, and commentators should be talking about it more. I think the secrecy of the topic reflects on how the greater public knows that it damages and ruins the sport but they’d rather not talk about it, and just enjoy the wonder. The discussion does need to happen. It’s weird for me to be so close to it. Simon told me that there are a couple guys in our group who dope. All they do is the hard stuff he says, they don’t jog, they don’t use their bodies, almost like they are zombies. It’s something I don’t really want to believe, but sometimes the signs are too obvious.

It’s scary when you dwell on it for long. What about our track heroes? If some are doping, and they get beat, and our heroes are the ones who come out on top, what does that say about them? Should we be suspicious? Should we talk about it? Most of our heroes are from track, and most likely competed in the last Olympics, which according to Simmons, clears them (thank goodness). But the world of track and field is its own, just like Basketball is its own.

Somehow, us distance runners are caught in a loop where we don’t see a lot of money come from our running. But, managers dealing with Kenyans and the like have found a way to make a very good living, and become wealthy off of their athletes. There’s a lot of money somewhere. The drugs in our sport easily reflect the competitiveness of our world. So, how is it that we are caught in this vacuum where funds slip through our fingers and syringes are forced into our forearms?

Not everyone dopes. I don’t. I’ve never been offered drugs, nor have I seen someone inject themselves. Most users are pretty secretive of it. I knew of it in my old school, and I know it’s around here. It’s an unfair advantage that makes a lot of people a lot of money.

The organization that I’m here with is hosting a marathon in about a month’s time (after I leave). The winners of the men’s marathon and women’s marathon win tickets to Canada for two weeks. In this time they’ll race Toronto Waterfront Marathon. I doubt the organizers for the Marathon here have set up any kind of doping control. This is one of the last things on their plate. But, just like water-stations, starting and finishing lines and marshaling areas have become a must at races, so too I think doping control must become a regular thing. Once the athletes know and realize that they will be regularly tested, fans will be more at ease with the presence and talk of doping and its control. If that happened, our sport would be clean in a year.

If I come back to Canada and run 30 minutes flat for 10k, most will say it’s part of the regular progression, and maybe altitude didn’t really work as well as some would hope. I’d say if I ran 29 flat then most would start saving and planning their trip to Kenya on the spot. If I go and run 28 it would be out of that regular progression, amazing, and some might think suspicious. Maybe altitude did wonders. Maybe training full time and resting properly is what I needed. Maybe there’s a darker side. But regardless, I would probably have to be tested for the latter two results. This kind of thing doesn’t happen everywhere or at all competitions. But it should. There’s obviously enough money to do it.

I hope I run 29. 28 would be dandy. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Honestly, running is an amazing hobby to look forward to everyday, and I’m so glad I’m good at it, but its not worth being fatigued in all other aspects of my life. Frying myself last fall left me beat up,  lethargic, moody, cramping, sore, and slow. It got a little out of hand, and therefore I’m glad the Fall turned out like it did. I learned another valuable lesson – you can’t will your body into shape when it resents you. If you don’t listen to the warning signs, it will eventually shut you down.

I spent about half of last year surviving on 6 hrs of sleep and paying zero attention to my eating habits. In a country so consumed with calories and diets, I really just wanted to believe that none of that mattered. Once again, I was mistaken. You can get away with less than optimal eating habits for awhile, but it will always come back around. Starve yourself of the basic nutrients you need, and you will suffer the consequences.

Unfortunately, though I am trying harder in the recovery, eating, and sleeping part of my life, I’ve still had what I consider to be the chest cold of death. The awful thing has stuck around for nearly three weeks, and cost me a few good sessions and a day off from running the week prior. Ironic, maybe, but part of life living with a two year old in day care – you get everything.

For someone that claims to hate doubles, I’ve ran twice three days this week. I plan to keep up this trend (1-3 times each week depending on the mileage goals) because it actually helped me recover much better between the hard days. Most weekday mornings I typically get 11-13 miles, but the length of those runs is still difficult for the body, especially when I’ve got to get up at 4:15 to get that kind of mileage in. If found that I can easily get 6-7 miles in my lunch break without it interfering with my work. Also, the lunch time run helps with productivity in the afternoon, major plus!

As for the racing plans. My first half is Mercedes. It probably going to be well short of amazing, but it will be a start to whatever running brings my way this year. Regardless, I’m going to enjoy it, one stride at a time.

This past week’s log

Monday: 1:36 w/ strides

Tuesday: AM: 40 min PM: 43 min w/ strides

——————-
Run Happy!

M.

I haven’t had a good coffee for about the same amount of time.

I’ve slept in, past the sunrise only twice.

I shower using a bucket of hot water, splashing it on my body with my hands.

I eat ugali with almost every meal.

Meat is a luxury; I get excited when I find out I’m going to have meat.

I haven’t had a cookie in 37 days.

I drink a full glass of fresh milk from the farm with lunch and supper.

On days after is rains I have to look for a solid small stick to dig the mud off my shoes.

The days I run triples go by in the blink of an eye.

I always eat well on Sundays.

I’ve been scared for my life only twice; once while dreaming of robbers hacking away at Michael in the next room, and once after a hill workout, when we all jumped into the back of a small Toyota pick-up. There was probably twenty of us in the box and 4 or 5 guys in the cab. In the box, guys sat along the edge and walls and tailgate, then there were seven or eight standing up with a hand on the cab. The driver; Abraham, Diamond League 800 dude, was driving fast as hell down a paved road towards Mosoriot. I was imagining him taking a sharp turn, or hitting one of the many potholes on the road, as fast as we were going, and throwing every one of us in the box up in the air, helpless. And we die. I vowed to never take a ride with him again. I haven’t. Man I was terrified. We were going so fast I had to hold my hat down, with my eyes watering, and hold my breath, because the wind was stealing it from my lungs. None of the guys in the box were a fan of Abraham’s driving.

Time is moving fast. Sometimes I get the feeling I haven’t taken enough pictures, and that I haven’t trained enough, or that I’m worried I won’t be where I want to be when I get back. Then I remember I’m in Kenya; Hakunamattatta.

I ran the same hill workout I did two weeks ago, but this time around it was way easier. I’m pretty sure last time I was running a fever after, and was probably sick or something. But this time around I stuck with some guys that were well ahead of me before, and my times going up were getting faster, and the rest was shorter. All good signs. This morning we jogged 35min easy at 6am. Then at 9:15 we ran over to the hill, 25min warm up. The workout was about 47min long, then we jogged back, for a total of 100min. When I got home I showered then tried to nap, but it just turned into a deep snooze. After lunch I laid back down; I was pretty tired. We met at 5pm for a 40min easy jog. We ran a regular loop that usually takes between 40 and 45 minutes, but we shuffled it in 50. We were tired.

It’s been a good day; just like all the others.

Dragon