For quite some time now, I have adhered pretty strictly to a physical fitness routine of running and weight-lifting four or five times per week. Since I first embarked upon this regimen, I have grown to enjoy and look forward to my trips to the gym. This is quite a departure from my college days, when I was eight sizes bigger, twenty pounds heavier, and more inert than the vending machine that supplied my late-night meals. Lately, however, my running has stagnated (and may have in fact worsened) because of my waning motivation.
To overcome my inertia, I looked to Roger Bannister, John Landy and Wes Santee for some much-needed inspiration. They are the stars of Neal Bascomb's The Perfect Mile, a non-fictional book about three men on separate endeavors to run a four-minute mile. Each person's story is unique but the underlying theme of each runner's journey is his absolute devotion to the sport. The Perfect Mile describes what it takes to be an athlete, and what athleticism really is at its finest. For Bannister, Landy and Santee, it was about making every moment spent on the track worthwhile and meaningful, and making sacrifices in order to dedicate themselves to the task of becoming better, faster, stronger runners. John Landy, for example, had a virtually non-existent social life during his training months, when he would run upwards of fifty miles per week, rain or shine. And when Roger Bannister was not on the track, he was in the lab using his background in science and medicine to study the mechanics of running and to implement training tools. As someone who used to hate the very idea of running, I am deeply inspired by their passion.
The Perfect Mile is a story of endurance, of pushing the body to its outermost limits, and of achieving the unthinkable. At the outset of their quest, Landy, Santee and Bannister were not even certain that humans were physically capable of running at a speed of fifteen miles per hour. And since they've broken the barrier, human endurance has reached new heights. In fact, the current record for the fastest mile is under 3:45, a tremendous feat of athleticism by any standard.
I don't intend to win any marathons, and I definitely wouldn't call myself an athletic runner. But when I have trouble completing a short three-mile run, I remind myself of the diligence and effort it took these men to run the mile in four minutes -- to conquer the Everest of track and field -- and suddenly, my own personal goals are put into perspective and within my grasp. So I'll lace up my sneakers and work towards reaching them, one stride at a time.
To overcome my inertia, I looked to Roger Bannister, John Landy and Wes Santee for some much-needed inspiration. They are the stars of Neal Bascomb's The Perfect Mile, a non-fictional book about three men on separate endeavors to run a four-minute mile. Each person's story is unique but the underlying theme of each runner's journey is his absolute devotion to the sport. The Perfect Mile describes what it takes to be an athlete, and what athleticism really is at its finest. For Bannister, Landy and Santee, it was about making every moment spent on the track worthwhile and meaningful, and making sacrifices in order to dedicate themselves to the task of becoming better, faster, stronger runners. John Landy, for example, had a virtually non-existent social life during his training months, when he would run upwards of fifty miles per week, rain or shine. And when Roger Bannister was not on the track, he was in the lab using his background in science and medicine to study the mechanics of running and to implement training tools. As someone who used to hate the very idea of running, I am deeply inspired by their passion.
The Perfect Mile is a story of endurance, of pushing the body to its outermost limits, and of achieving the unthinkable. At the outset of their quest, Landy, Santee and Bannister were not even certain that humans were physically capable of running at a speed of fifteen miles per hour. And since they've broken the barrier, human endurance has reached new heights. In fact, the current record for the fastest mile is under 3:45, a tremendous feat of athleticism by any standard.
I don't intend to win any marathons, and I definitely wouldn't call myself an athletic runner. But when I have trouble completing a short three-mile run, I remind myself of the diligence and effort it took these men to run the mile in four minutes -- to conquer the Everest of track and field -- and suddenly, my own personal goals are put into perspective and within my grasp. So I'll lace up my sneakers and work towards reaching them, one stride at a time.
