Megan is breathing hard off my right shoulder, nudging the pace enough that I am beginning to gasp. Even if I wanted to slow down&--which I do (and don't)--I couldn't, because I'd trip the girls next to me, and that would be bad. I hold on as four of us take the turn on our local track in tight formation, which is kind of fun because it seems, well, so Olympic-like. On the straightaway, Megan drops the hammer. How does she do it? We're running faster than I think I can, training for what seems like an impossibly fast half-marathon goal (though perfectly doable, according to Megan).
Megan Kossar, 43, is a mother of two and a licensed clinical social worker, a combination that makes her at once compassionate and merciless. I'd met her a year earlier at the San Jose Rock 'n' Roll Half-Marathon. We'd finished about the same time, and she encouraged me to apply to join her women's racing team. The Impalas, based in San Francisco, are legendary in Bay Area running circles. These women win local races and are featured in newspapers during the Olympic Trials. The team was, in other words, out of my league. Megan insisted, assuring me there were multiple pacing groups, and that I'd be fine. I rambled on about not being fast enough, the drive was too far, and other excuses, until she shook her head. "Michelle," she said. "You'll get faster with the group."
Impalas warm up at Kezar Stadium in San Francisco half-marathon 20 years ago, the thought of a repeat performance, let alone running one millisecond faster, left me nauseated. But then I went to breakfast with my friends, and we talked about the race, pacing, training. And so began my quest for faster times. I read about speedwork, volume, fueling, and I began playing with midrun pickups. I raced 5-Ks, 10-Ks, a marathon (another "never again"). But of course I did it again (you've been there). I studied courses: Was it flat? Were there lots of turns? What would the weather be like? On that day I first met Megan, I ran my pie-in-the-sky personal best half-marathon (1:34:52). Could I run any faster? At age 43?
Pose the question to any Impala, and she will laugh. Every team member, it seems, has a success story. Michelle Meyer, 27, one of the speedsters, set a nine-minute personal record in the marathon after two years with the team. Janet Cain, at 63, remains competitive; her recent half was 1:41--three minutes faster than three decades ago. Then there's Allison Howard, 34. She chuckled when a teammate told her she could slice huge chunks off her race times. Six years and three babies later, Howard lowered her PR in the half-marathon by 12 minutes, and she's bettered her marathon PR by 33 minutes.
"The magic of the group is that each time one person takes a step up, everyone else follows suit," says Tony Coffey, the Impalas' head coach, who's been with the team for a decade.
The Impalas, of course, are not alone. Training groups have helped countless runners get faster for decades. The most profound example of the power of the pack is U.S. distance running itself, after the U.S. team's dismal showing in the 2000 Olympic Marathon. Two brothers, Keith and Kevin Hanson, had begun to address the dearth of training opportunities for U.S. elites with the 1999 launch of a Michigan-based team, now known as Hansons-Brooks Distance Project (Desiree Linden's group). Other groups followed, including Nike's Oregon Project (Shalane Flanagan; the group has since been renamed Bowerman Track Club) and Team Running USA (Meb Keflezighi and Deena Kastor; it's now called Asics Mammoth Track Club). U.S. distance runners have since taken the podium at the Olympics, the World Championships, and such major marathons as How to Truly Run Relaxed, Chicago, London, and Boston.
Training partners provide accountability and motivation at every level, says Jamie Kempton, a former high school and college coach who led the Rockland Road Runners, in New York, until January. Whether you're Shalane Flanagan or a back-of-the-packer, you are more apt to show up and finish a workout when someone else is counting on you. (Okay, Flanagan would show up regardless, but she was happier when former teammate Kara Goucher was there, too.) And the pack mentality extends beyond accountability when your training partners are a tad faster than you. As Betsy Keever, 39, an Impala, puts it, "Being around a group of speedy ladies has significantly raised my own expectations of myself."
Plenty of recreational runners across the country have had similar success thanks to running clubs, casual groups, and fast friends a few doors down. Andrea Holt Jackson, 48, a physical therapist in Mt. Juliet, Tennessee, was a 2:22 half-marathoner when she began running her midweek miles with a speedy 5-K neighbor. "I was doing speedwork and didn't even know it!" she says. Last November, Jackson shaved 15 minutes off her half-marathon time.
Clearly, if I wanted a chance at getting faster, I needed to join the team. Maybe you should join one, too.
Running in the Cold
The first day with a new group is not unlike the first day of school. I arrived early, feeling like the kid who takes the front seat in class. It was early February, and on deck that night was 1.5 miles at tempo pace (comfortably hard), followed by 3 x 1200 meters (three laps, or three-quarters of a mile) at 10-K pace. I've always loved speedwork, but I felt intimidated by the women in matching blue jackets descending the bleachers, some with racing flats in hand.
Megan (bless her) welcomed me: "So glad you're here." Coach Tony explained the workout and split us into four pace groups. I tucked into Group Three, finding a spot in the five-runner pack behind Megan. The pull of the women was energizing, and scary. We hit the tempo mile in a pace 15 seconds faster than my usual. I managed to nail the 1200s, and no one snickered at my labored breathing. No one did the following week, either.
"With a group, you're more willing to grind out harder workouts, more willing to hang on," says Andrew Kastor, head coach of the Mammoth Track Club (and husband of Olympian Deena). "It's the pack mentality."
This human phenomenon has a name, "social facilitation," or performing better in the presence of others. The term dates back to a study published in 1898 on cyclists who clocked faster race times when competing in groups. Coaches have observed this trend, and put it to use, for years. During her buildup to the 2004 Olympics, Deena Kastor hired three 5-K specialists to pull her through repeats. The strategy was so successful that once back home (bronze medal in hand), she hired former steeplechaser Mike McKeeman to help pace her to American records. Both reached new heights: Kastor set the new American marks in the half (1:07:34) and marathon (2:19:36). Mike eventually qualified for two Olympic Marathon Trials.
I had my own Mikes. Megan, of course, but also Janet, a petite legal analyst in the San Jose city attorney's office; Julie Anne, a mom and physical therapist, who smiled and giggled a lot; and Jac, who seemed to come and go with the wind. We ran 800s, 1200s, mile repeats, on the road, on the track, uphill, downhill. I followed, I led, and I soon came to realize I'd been settling for "hard enough" in my solo speed sessions. This was, of course, precisely the point. "Getting out of your comfort zone is how you'll see results," says Andrew Kastor.
Such a strategy isn't limited to formal speed sessions. Ashley McDonald of Coralville, Iowa, joined a group at her local running store for long runs. "We were hitting 8:45, a pace I hadn't been able to do on my own, but we were all talking and it was fun, so I went back," says the 28-year-old project manager. Later that year, she shaved 14 minutes off her half-marathon time.
There is a learning curve to running with fast friends--namely, pacing. Too-fast repeats early in the workout at times left me trailing behind in the end. The Impalas' Coffey says poor pacing is the number one mistake new Impalas make. "Human nature takes over," he says. "You feel like you have to justify your presence."
Poor pacing isn't just frustrating; it can compromise your training. "If the workout is four by a mile and you're running so fast you can only do two, you're not getting the desired training effect or the appropriate volume," says Coffey. "Being too ambitious early is almost always counterproductive." Speedwork, he says, is as much about learning to pace as it is about training different energy systems in the body. Fast running generates greater forces, so muscles and tendons need time to adapt. As your fitness and strength build, you can safely take more risks. "The latter part of your training is the time to push, to test yourself in training as you would in a race," he says.
They Compel You to (Happily) Run More
What I hadn't expected from running with the Impalas--foolishly, in retrospect--was that training with the team would be fun. I loved feeling a part of something. Loved the energy at the track. Loved the fast girls shouting, "Looking good, ladies!" as they zipped by. We'd holler (or gasp) back, "You, too!" The happy consequence of all this camaraderie: more miles.
The adrenaline from my once-a-week workout with the team lasted into the week. I ran farther on Thursdays. I extended my weekly long run to 14 miles. Sometimes, I bumped Monday's easy five up to six. Factor in the higher volume of the Impala speed sessions and the longer warmups and cooldowns, and my weekly mileage ballooned from hovering at 30 to landing consistently at 40 or 45.
"Anything we enjoy we're going to do more," says Dean Hebert, M.Ed., a certified mental-game coach in Arizona and a former 2:36 marathoner. "For most runners, feeling a sense of social obligation drives their behavior to run more. And so their fitness is aided by the added motivation."
The power of a group's welcoming atmosphere, or a training partner's ear, is hard to overstate. In conversations with 20 runners contacted for this story, all of them--no matter how much I asked about mileage and race results--returned to the friendships they formed over miles, and the motivation to train that came with them. McDonald, the Iowan, was so excited to report her progress to her long-run companions that she increased her midweek miles and added speedwork."
For many, like Impala Michelle Meyer, running with others led to more consistent speedwork. "If it's just me, I go out for six 800s, do two, and say, 'Forget it,'" she says. "But the team makes it challenging and fun." Others did longer long runs during a training period. Steve Jakubcin, 39, of Alpena, Michigan, didn't run more, he trained smarter. "I was a fan of slow, steady miles," he says. "But thanks to [his much-faster friend] Eric, I now look at the quality of work I'm doing, not just the volume."
When coach Kastor thinks back on the fast men who ran with Deena, the first benefit he cites is, "they made training fun." The work could have easily become a grind, and her miles, or the quality of her miles, could have suffered. "The emotional and psychological benefits of running with others may be the greater payback," he says. "The by-product is that you get physically stronger." Or as coach Kastor is fond of saying, "a happy athlete is a fast athlete."
Due to a long commute, I ran with the Impalas once a week, which suited me because I enjoy my solo runs. It also helped me avoid running easy days and long runs too fast--a reason to limit miles with faster friends. "One or two intense workouts a week is enough," says Kastor." More, and you risk not being recovered."
Running in the Cold
The upside of large training groups is that they usually have a range of abilities. More often than not, you'll find a pacing partner. But if you're searching outside a club, is there an ideal fast friend? "It's someone with a half-marathon time no more than five minutes faster than yours," says coach Kastor. "You'll gain from his speed, but you're close enough that he, too, can feed off your energy." But there are no hard rules. If you and a faster friend are both free at 6 a.m., schedules may trump pace, but you'll need to coordinate training days. Your four-mile tempo run could be your partner's easy day. You can tailor the workout to accommodate wider gaps in pace. Brenda Sumners, of Ottawa, Ontario, and two friends start their 12-mile run together. After a few miles, one friend takes off. At the halfway mark, the other friend chases the runner out front, while Sumners pushes her pace to keep him in sight.
CA Notice at Collection Kezar Stadium, in San Francisco. Under discussion was her recent age-group placing, and my upcoming Humboldt Redwoods Half-Marathon in Northern California.
"You're totally going to PR," said my always optimistic friend.
"I don't know," I replied. This was typical of me. Noncommittal, a little unsure. "You're faster."
She ignored my attempt at deflection. "In practice. You beat me in races."
This was only partially true, but I loved her for saying it.
When a training partner nails a workout or does well in a race, we spin our own story of possibility--or like Megan, they tell you flat out what you're capable of.
Still, a teammate can push only so much. You have to do the hard work. As a cautious racer, this means not holding back but running at the pace my training suggests I am capable of. Megan, however, tends to hammer from the gun, which has gotten her into trouble--blowups, missed goals. The Impalas taught her, like me, to trust her training and her race plan.
I started Humboldt with a fellow masters teammate, Christina Applegate, who had a similar goal. We had only recently met, but she spoke as if it were a foregone conclusion that we'd rock this thing. After a conservative first mile, we accelerated. Christina fell back, telling me to rally on. I crossed the finish in 1:32:15, two minutes and 36 seconds faster than my best, and 23 minutes off my first half-marathon 20 years ago.
And now, inspired by my new friends and teammates, you know what I want to do: Go even faster.
