A race application is a contract between its organizers and the entrant. As such, when signed and paid for by the runner--or his coach--he is justified in expecting certain things in return. In the very least, the race should start on time, the course he selects should have been accurately measured and reflect the description advertised, results should be prompt and accurate, and some form of refreshment, such as water and fruit, be provided.
For his part, the runner should be in good health, have sufficiently trained for the event, and behave honorably by being accepting of his performance within the context of the events competition.
This past weekend I witnessed a race that, for the most part, failed to keep its end of the bargain. It started late, was--and Im guessing here--somewhere around a quarter of a mile long (.20144, according to a GPS), and the final results not only inconclusive, but delivered rather tardy. It was a big disappointment.
Once you've committed your week's training to participate in a particular event, there's not much you can do but go through with running it. Unfortunately, in the matter of the distance, its effects will linger on, long afterwards.
When a race is obviously long, as this one was, it is aggravating to consider what might have been. Could it have been a PR day? What will people think when they see a published time well off your usual? And lastly, what of the lost opportunity of running another, more satisfying event?
It's worse when the course is short, especially if it is just short enough to set a PR, but not so much as to be certain of inaccuracy. You go away with mixed emotions. You hope that you earned that PR, but doubt will eat away at any satisfaction you might have.
For the past 40 years I have spent a lot of my time analyzing race results. Probably too much time, I should admit. However, as a result of this, sometimes I can read between the lines of results and make an educated guess that something doesn't add up.
Let's say a high school athlete runs a seasons best time in their first cross country race, and fails to come close to that time for the rest of the year. Or a runner sets a spectacular PR on a course, which he doesn't return to, and fails to equal that time for two or three years? What about an entire team, made up of individuals who have run consistently all year, then every single one runs a 40-50 second PR in the last race of the season? Are these scenarios the result of good coaching, a monumental peak, inspirational weather, or a short course? Taking an axiom from flea market lexicon: If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
In 1983 I wrote an article called In Search of Accuracy for a magazine that I published at the time. In preparation, I followed a group of men who used a 100 foot steel tape to measure and mark a half mile course on a cement path adjacent to a centrally located park. Subsequent to that, a professional timer who wished to certify a race course in case it produced an age group record, would ride a bike back and forth over the measured half mile. The bikes front wheel would have either a Clain-Jones, Jones-Oerth, or Senechalle device attached to it, clicking away approximately every 4 inches, or roughly 50,000 for a 5K. Then he would immediately take that bike to his proposed race course and, before the temperature or humidity changed the diameter of the wheel, measure his course without changing riders, as a weight difference would alter tire pressure.
After measuring a road course, the individual files certification papers for review by the state certifier, under the auspices of USA Track and Field. If approved, it receives a sanction. Any records set on that course will be reviewed by a road race technical committee, and forwarded for final consideration at the Annual Track and Field Convention.
Sound like a lot of work? Not if you set an American record and find out it won't count because the race director didn't spring the bucks for the sanction.
Anyone who cares about accuracy is willing to get it right. Consequently certified USATF courses are accurate to a fault: a short course factor prescribes adding 16.4 feet (5 meters, or 1/10 of 1%) to a 5000 meter course, and even the presence or absence of parked cars are calculated into the time of measurement.
Now ask yourself, have you ever witnessed a cross country coach go through this much trouble? If so, he deserves both a medal and our most profound respect. He has also earned the trust of everyone who runs his race.
We know that such things as sand, temperature, hills, and the level of competition affect our finish times. However, so does the care a race director takes when he measures a course.
Heady stuff, but it goes to show you just how much time and effort can be devoted to getting it right. One individual who has earned a reputation for such diligence is John Boyle of Alta Vista Sports. Many consider him the most trusted professional road race consultant in Florida, and his reputation reaches well beyond our state's borders. On any given weekend, the Alta Vista Sports crew can be seen 1000 miles away from its home base in Deland. As an expert in his field, John's thoughts on the subject are illuminating, to say the least.
Its really difficult to certify a cross country course, because you cant ride a bike on it. You have to use a wheel. Not only that, but you can't guarantee that the points will remain. Perhaps you could certify one meet, say for a world championship, but not come back to it. Cut the grass and theres no longer a true definition. Its the same thing with a beach course. You may try to use the ramps as reference points, but the sand is constantly changing.
Boyle, who has been coaching for nearly 25 years, adds, A lot of cross country courses are inaccurate, high school courses more so than college. Over the years Ive seen variations of as much as a quarter of a mile. A kid would run a 16:30, then a week later would run 18:30. Anyone who sees someone with a fantastic time in cross country should look back and see what the kid did in a two mile the spring before.
John offers this advice: You can't be perfect in cross country, but you can be careful.
This article is intended neither as an indictment, nor an accusation. It is a reminder. Your honesty in producing a 5K (3.106856 miles, or 16, 404 feet), and not a 3.05 mile course, will affect every single runner who participates in that event. Furthermore, it will help to determine all star selections, who goes on to the next level of competition (districts, regionals and the state meet), college scholarships, and maybe even who continues to run past high school. Would you be willing to gamble that much on hoping that no one will notice, or that everyone will be happy with their times? I, for one, would rather be accurate than popular.