
My best friend Kate informs me, with some evident and frankly justifiable disgust, about just how many people seem to think it’s in any way interesting to tweet how far they’ve run that day. So Christ knows how she’s going to feel about me blogging about a run, but there you go.
Eagle-eyed regular readers will have spotted barely any updates to my reading list sidebar in, well, about six months. Two words explain this: Timothy Ferriss. Ferriss is a Californian ‘lifestyle designer’ and if that phrase fills you with horror then I have to tell you that when my partner Sarah ordered Ferriss’ book on body hacking The 4 Hour Body, I was horrified and somewhat sarcastic with Sarah about it, so what follows is, apart from anything else, a kind of public apology. Because about a week after the book turned up from Amazon, I picked it up from Sarah’s bedside to relieve a bout of insomnia, and found myself three hundred pages in at 5am. I would call this, without a hint of irony or exaggeration, a life-changing moment. And that’s why I’m writing a rare post about events in my own life: because not to do so at this point would be disingenuous. The 4 Hour Body and its predecessor, The 4 Hour Work Week (which we
might term more of a life marking manual, and which I will be discussing elsewhere), have had a more profound effect on my real life than most of the science fiction, political philosophy and history which normally receives attention here.
I won’t go into detail about the many areas The 4 Hour Body covers. For one thing, there’s over 500 pages of it and for another, it’s received plenty of attention elsewhere – and not always positive, it should be said. I will say, in headlines that it has led me – and Sarah – to utterly re-assess our diet and exercise regime, and much else about our general effectiveness professionally and personally.
What I wanted to talk about specifically was what reading Ferriss has done for my running. I’ve run – or jogged, as we used to say – on and off pretty much since leaving school. My standard run for most of that time has been 10K, which I’ve always run in an hour, give or take. Nothing to write home about, but nowt to sneer at either. Even when I’ve taken considerable periods off, it’s only ever taken me a couple of runs to get back up to 10K, and with a recovery of maybe 3-4 minutes.
And yet, and yet... I’d had for some time the sneaking suspicion that I could do rather better than this and as early as the summer of 2011 I’d dipped my toe into a bit of interval training and improved my overall time.
And then I read the 4 Hour Body, which has extensive coverage of running technique. Ferriss set himself the challenge of running an ultra-marathon without the usual prerequisite training of lots of long runs, instead opting for short distances – fast, along with a whole rota of strength training techniques associated with cross fit training. Now here’s some controversy over what happened to Ferriss’ challenge to himself, as two years on from the book’s publication, he seems still not to have run an ultra-marathon. But I set myself a rather less demanding one: to run the Brighton half-marathon without ever running any preparatory long runs. Because what I wanted to concentrate on was technique. Ferriss experimented with various running techniques and especially the famous Pose style of running developed by the Russian athlete and trainer Dr Nicholas Romanov. While Ferriss doesn’t wholeheartedly endorse Pose running, he does take away the following as having the most impact on his running performance:
- Take short steps, and fast
- Land on the balls of the feet
- Pick your legs up behind you
- Lean forward
- Keep your arms and hands up and still
I changed my style to accommodate the technique recommended by Ferris (very painful on the calves for three or four runs). I stuck to short runs, mostly on a treadmill, increasing my speed, eventually running 5K in around 24.30. I also, latterly, adopted the protocol Nate Green recommends: 10 x 20 sec 11kph, 10% incline bursts with 10 sec rests (actually Green suggests 12% and 12 kph – but this was killing enough). Also in there: weights and swimming – lots of swimming. Oh, and the dreaded kettle bell dead lifts and swings. More about those bastards some other time. In all my prep, six months of it, I did just two 10K runs, just to see if I was kidding myself. Nothing longer.
And the result? The race was this Sunday, and I can report that I ran it pretty comfortably in 1:48.42, a time with which I’m very happy. Pretty sore the following day. 48 hours on barely a twinge.
So, why write about this here? Because I think this all demonstrates the principle which underpins much of the 4 Hour Body and much of The 4 Hour Work Week: MED, or minimal effective dose. Boiled down, the principle is straightforward: what is the minimum amount necessary to achieve the maximum results?
It would be all too early to characterise this as self-help snake oil salesmanship – a lie that great results can be achieved without hard work. But let me be clear about something. The kind of MED training I undertook over the last six months was emphatically nowhere as easy trudging on a treadmill for an hour a time at 10kph or so (the Nate Green protocol, by the way, leaves me nearly puking). What I have cut down on, instead, is the amount of time involved in training. That’s where the "minimal" comes in. It has, for me, been revelatory - not least because it runs counter to many of the ways I've tackled life's challenges in the past - and MED is a mindset I am attempting to apply to much of my life. I’ll report back here and, where appropriate, on the UC blog, on how it all goes.